Another banal post, hopefully slightly livened by a Wallace and Gromit reference. The weather is fabulous after nine days of rain. The path where I walk crosses Tinker's Creek twice. Each time there is a bridge. When I was coming up to the first bridge this morning, a deer was coming across it towards me. The deer froze, about two-thirds of the way acrtoss the bridge, head lowered, only it's ears moving. I could see it was trying to decide whether to bolt back the other way and I felt obscurely guilty...so I turned away, as if I hadn't seen it. Which was ludicrous since we had made deer/human eye contact. But I heard it's hooves on the tarmac and when I turned back it had finished coming across the bridge and was disappearing into the underbrush.
Also seen, a tiny dead mole, lying on it's side as if asleep, one pink paw like a zipper pull on a suede coin purse.