Relative Something

It was a cold morning yesterday and if we had any pumpkins there would have been frost on them. We do have a lot of leaves, though.

The temperature dropped far enough below freezing that the surface of “Paddock Lake” developed a layer of ice.

Since I’ve been pondering our role in the ongoing rescue of our four thoroughbreds, I took a few pictures of them in the early sunlight as they were gobbling their mix of cracked oats and corn.

Swings with her fresh application of mud.

Mix’s nose.

Mia

Light

Eight hours later, we showed up for the afternoon feeding. I was out scooping manure, and Cyndie was inside, measuring portions into their buckets. Mia was halfway down the slope toward the waterer, munching hay from one of the nets hung on the fence. Suddenly, I noticed Mia had flipped around 180 degrees and was standing on alert, looking to the south.

I scanned the distance to see if I could find what was grabbing her attention. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, my eyes moved back toward Mia, and that’s when I spotted what she was reacting to. A very large bald eagle was standing about five feet in front of her on the shore of the now iceless Paddock Lake.

It’s odd that I hadn’t noticed it when I looked around the first time. The eagle’s bald head stood out with its bright whiteness, and it was so incredibly tall compared to all the little pigeons that are about to get their own zipcode due to a population explosion.

I couldn’t be certain how long it had been there, but because Mia had just noticed, I’m guessing it hadn’t been very long. I don’t even know if it had enough time to drink because, as Mia approached the eagle took off.

Luckily, I had gotten Cyndie’s attention quickly enough that she came out just in time to see the big bird’s departure.

A huge eagle landing in our paddock while we were milling around felt like a nice ‘hat tip’ of appreciation from the universe to let us know things are good here.

It also tells me I’m not the only one noticing that little puddle seems to be forming into more than just a puddle. I’m feeling all the more justified in granting that watering hole a real name.

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