I love having an active back yard. Our dining room table sits beside a 12-foot window, and without fail a glance out back reveals creaturely activity of some kind: birds, foxes, woodchucks, rabbits, deer. Squirrels power-lounging on bark or stone. Showdowns between red and gray squirrels beneath the bird feeders. Fledglings begging their parents for food.

Last week I brushed the dog, and placed the pile of black and white hair it yielded out at the edge of the back bank. After the chickadees fledged in our nest box, we removed the nest and discovered its top layer was a cozy cushion of dog hair. It’s late for most nesting, but I put the hair out just in case.

10 minutes later I glanced out and saw two crows scolding harshly around the same area. I looked for a hawk, but after watching for awhile it became clear that the crows were scolding the pile of dog hair. They bent their heads and descended ever closer to it for another ten minutes, crying out in their most explosive, grating voices. They must have thought it was a skunk!

Last night I noticed a cardinal trying unsuccessfully to snatch a small moth. It caught and lost it several times before giving up. As the beleaguered moth fluttered away, a phoebe swooped down and nabbed it in one graceful flutter. “Leave it to the professionals,” it seemed to say to the watching cardinal.

This morning as we ate breakfast, my husband and I got a kick out of this rabbit peering over the stone wall between our garden and our neighbor’s driveway.

The funny part was that it appeared to be meditating on the lettuce.

As far as I’m concerned it can have the lettuce. It never tastes good to me, much though I like the idea of it. Maybe the rabbit likes it better.