Day One Hundred Seventy-Two

I have a proclamation to make, y'all.

2020 IS HERETOFORTH BANNED FROM MAKING ANY MORE ANIMALS RAIN UPON MY PROPERTY.

So far in 2020, we've had the Koi drama. We've also had a swimming bat. Remember Rainbow Marshmallow? I sure do because at sunset every night, bunches of bats appear above our yard ( ... I haven't figured out where they're coming from, and I have thoughts about whether or not I should seek that knowledge, all things considered). I immediately think one of those bats might be Rainbow Marshmallow and I hope the little jerk doesn't decide to go for another swim.

Seriously, I lose ten minutes of my life to watching for swimming bats. Every day. Still.

We've also had a snake issue this year. It's not quite as bad as the words placed in a sentence may seem, to be honest. There's a little garter snake that wants to live near the pond. It had managed to avoid capture for quite some time, but then I caught it this past weekend and escorted it to a place far, far away. And then I walked it a little bit further.

Don't get any crazy ideas, by the way. I was close-ish to the snake long enough to get it into a pond net, and then I carried it at arm's length in the net. It was seriously 8 feet away from me as we went for a stroll. A little bit of fire might have made the situation better, but generally it was fine.

So. Snake. Escorted. FAR away.

It was back again yesterday? I think? I can't be 100% sure if the same snake was by the pond or if there are two snakes. But the one that was sitting on top of a bush by the front door today? DEFINITELY NOT THE SAME ONE.

For the record, it's a long ways from the pond to our front door. I have to think that particular snake likely lives under our front stairs. I will be setting them on fire tomorrow just to be safe. Wait. Does concrete burn? I might need to learn how to make some sort of explosive device. It's better safe than sorry.

BUT THE SNAKES ARE NOT THE WORST OF IT.

There is an evergreen happily growing on the side of the house. It's about 6.5 feet tall at this point, well on its way to the majestic 50 feet it will eventually reach. Somewhere around my eye level, a morning dove had made a nest. She was pretty much a giant bird with a giant nest and giant eggs. I don't know why she decided to try to have babies this late in the year or why she built her nest in a fairly accessible location, but that is a choice she paid for.

Didja notice all the past tense back there? WAS a giant bird. WAS. All that's let of her now is a few feathers ...

...

...

...

AND HER HEAD.

Something (a coyote? that's honestly the most likely scenario) raided the nest a few days ago. Apparently it was quite the scene because there are feathers E.V.E.R.Y.W.H.E.R.E. Seriously, it looks like someone placed an explosive device in the nest. So many feathers.The babies remains seem to be scattered in one area, and then there are the mama's remains. Or, rather, her head. It's sitting a few feet from where I turn on the hose water to make plants happy.

Which is something I geniunely have to do.

And the head doesn't seem to be going anywhere.

And that's it. Good thing the girls are in virtual school because we're setting the house on fire and moving somewhere with lots of concrete and no wild animals.