I'm sorry, I can't hear you...

...over the screeching cacaphony of the blaring of the numerous false alarms.

Okay, people. Threat down. Crisis averted. We got some light rain showers, a bit of wind. It was fun while it lasted. The forcasts are anticipating that Fay might well dump out in the Gulf and manifest herself as a proper hurricane and come back around to wreak her vengeance on us when our defenses are down sometime during the weekend. Frankly, since this storm has not really done a single thing that has been predicted it would do at any point along its track, I'm not sure anyone will be paying that much attention.

My husband's sinus surgery was rescheduled on account of TS Fay. We spent the day moving yard implements from the old shed to the new shed. The old shed leaks and apparently had (or still has) a slight rodent problem. That probably explains why there is a very large snake that has taken up residence underneath the plywood floor. Lately, living in my house is like filming an episode of Wild Kingdon. I am the resident field biologist, so any time an identification is needed or a rescue op is to be undertaken, it usually falls on me. Yesterday we discovered two newly hatched soft-shelled turtles, each about the size of a silver dollar - one in the neighbor's front yard and one in my back yard. Each one was carefully transported to the pond on the next block by me and my son. I'm used to finding red-eared sliders in the pool, so this was a first for me. Later in the day I was called outside to identify a spider that my husband had found in the shed. I thought it looked like a black widow (it had the large spherical abdomen, long thin legs, and red "hourglass" marking), but was paler in color than I had seen before, so I was also thinking it might have been a brown recluse. A little internet research confirmed that black widow spiders are sometimes brown with lateral striping, and that the brown recluse isn't that common this far south. Either which way, nature will try to kill you. Constant vigilence! Then there's the duck that has decided that my yard makes an excellent all-you-can-eat bug buffet. Not even ducks, plural - just one single duck. It wouldn't be so annoying if I hadn't just told the new neighbor that I'd never seen ducks on our street in all the years I'd lived there (and it's been a lot of years, trust me), or if it was a charming species of duck instead of a hideous Muscovy. The ducklings are precious. What they grow into, though, is a hissing, pooping, foul tempered breeding machine that, judging from the results of a quick Google search, some people think is some damn fine eatin's.