Sunday, November 13, 2016

November 13 - Hide and Seek

An interesting old tree with a couple of inviting woodpecker holes caught my eye as I walked by on a mid-morning walk, so I stopped to take a closer look.  As I was contemplating the unusual intersection of trunk and limb, interspersed with the woodpecker holes, someone poked its head out to return my stare.
Who's out there?!

For the next eight minutes I stood motionless, the two of us sizing each other up. First the little chipmunk stayed perfectly still while it assessed the situation.

Then it climbed up the inside of the hollow tree

and stuck its head out the secret back door to see if the coast was clear on that side.

Not comfortable with what it found, it went back and forth on the spiral staircase a few times looking for a safe escape route.
Love that tail!

I was waiting for it go up to the attic and look out the third-story porthole, but it didn't oblige me this move.  Eventually it became bold enough to climb out the front door.

And finally exited its safe haven and in an instant was down the tree, running along the ground, and off to another hideaway.

The chipmunk had won this game of hide and seek, but had I been an owl, a hawk, or a fox, I wonder if it would have fared so well.

When I wasn't playing hide and seek I was enjoying another beautiful November week at the lake.  Even as the plants fade away for the winter
Goldenrod gone to seed

new beauty is revealed in the void.
Pretty, but sadly, this is an invasive species, Japanese barberry (Berberis thunbergii)

And then there are some who just refuse to let go.

It reminds of Peanuts, and Linus waiting for the final leaf to fall.

And walking one afternoon I had the sense that something was watching me, and discovered that someone else was playing hide and seek.

Tonight is the full Beaver Moon - perhaps we'll get a peek at it.

Update:  And here it is, the full Beaver Moon:

P.S.  The picture at the top of the blog is a scene that appeared one cloudy morning this week when the sun broke through a tiny hole in clouds and illuminated the far shore for about 30 seconds before closing up again.

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