Early the next morning, everyone in the wildwood could hear Dakota barking. He’d heard a noise outside the crazy woman’s cabin. Sure, he knew it was probably nothing but at least everyone would know this dog was alert and on the job. Besides, if he was awake, no need for anyone else to still be sleeping. He was proud to be so focused.
But it was something. A clever barred owl called Mary had recently emerged from her self-imposed hibernation. Instead of flying south to Miami Beach with her family, she preferred to just stay put until the weather was more agreeable. Other critters that loved the old gal would stop by with crackers and a little may apple wine – enough to keep her going during the winter.
But now she was really hungry. She’d been waiting for dawn when the mice begin venturing out looking for seeds and berries. Mary knew exactly where they’d be and soon there were three warm furry ones snacking on huckleberries that had dropped during the night. One of the mice, a young dark one called Bertrand, was sniffing a berry. Mary had already begun her downward glide, approaching downwind. A second later Bertrand was screaming inaudibly in Mary’s strong talons. Those silent high pitched cries are what Dakota heard.
Mary flew back to her perch by beating her wings only four times. Only when Bertrand lay lifeless on the branch near her aerie did she announce her satisfaction with a long “hoohoo, hoo-aw.” No showboating. She was the most skillful nocturnal hunter in the wildwood. Celebration is something the young foxes would do. She feasted, and then would nap most of the day.
Near where the Pisgah creek broadened into a spring pond, Sy, a lackadaisical river otter heard Mary’s modest announcement. Sy was hungry and knew he would have to do something, but not right away. Sliding down the dewy morning embankment was too much fun. Hunting for crayfish or lazy frogs would have to wait.