Four o'clock in the morning. I am awakened by a series of spine-tingling howls and growls through the open windows on the front and back side of our house.
I spring to the window but see nothing in the darkness.
Coyotes. Who are they executing this time: The neighbor's cat? A fox? A racoon? Hopefully it's one of those damn rabbits.
Silence. Adrenaline rush.
Sleep is now out of the picture.
As I walked out onto our deck, a startled bobcat walked out from under it. It looked like a small tiger with its magnificent striping.
"Lois, there's a bobcat out here," I yelled quietly to my wife.
The bobcat walked slowly to about fifteen feet from the house and gazed back.
Then, from the side of the house charged a doe mule deer. The bobcat was reluctant to move, but the doe was persistent and chased it away.
Maybe the doe was just protecting "Lightbulb" -- the fawn my granddaughter Libby named.
