At dusk, Arkan jr. arises. The moon rises as the sun sets. Perhaps the moon’s gravity helps pull Arkan up from her hiding place in the reeds and cattails.
The ducks squawk, the bullfrogs croak, and it’s hard to sleep any longer. A combination of wanderlust and a hunger for the kill move Arkan out onto the flatlands. She looks around her hiding place by the pond of “recycled” waste water used now to water a golf course. The aeration fountain powers water 10 feet into the air.
Arkan hops downhill, dodging the tree removal equipment. In this neighborhood, they are removing 100-foot pines, firs and cedars that are dying in their failed efforts to survive in suburban yards. She dodges the dogs and cats, and slips into my backyard pond to wait for prey.
For several autumns. juvenile bullfrogs, 4 inches long, have abruptly appeared in my backyard pond that is favored by the native chorus frogs for mating. If she stays, She’ll eat every small chorus frog that happens by. She’s here again. I’ve asked her to leave. I’m draining the pond today to drive her out.
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a nature refuge.
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