Suburban Wilderness

By Bob Howard In Personal Matters

Our property borders on a small forest.  Houses encroach areas where animals once roamed. As a consequence we find furry intruders occasionally in our backyard.  Especially in the early spring.  The other evening our daughter, equipped with her IPhone, recorded a video of a large and brazen creature lured, we guess, to our lawn by a bird feeder the squirrels had already devastated. Here's the video wherein you may hear our fearless sentinel, a small bichon frise, telling the ursine creature to scram.

Fifteen minutes from our suburban wilderness lies the urban jungle.  At the invitation of a next-door neighbor, I went with him to a venue at the confluence of I-84 and I-91.  The neighbor, as an expression of civic support for a new enterprise, purchased tickets for baseball games at Dunkin' Donuts Park, a brand new and very professional, stadium for the Colorado Rockies AA Division farm team.  

As we entered we came upon the pen where the team mascot was stationed.  A billy goat covered with a green cloak was chewing its way through some very dry hay.  The woman tending the farm animal caught the eye of an octogenarian in an Irish hat and insisted that he feed the animal.  I did.  The neighbor took the photo.

Two Goats

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