And then this morning – nothing but a solitary robin, looking in vain for what Samuel Pepys called “my morning draught” – tho Sam’s was usually draft ale, not slow drips into what I must admit was slightly muddy water.
My first thought was, could deer have done this? Raccoons couldn’t, could they? And then when I saw the woodpile tumbled, the reluctant conclusion that it was simply Bad Boys. There are some, on the street behind us, justifiably angry about the damage a young visitor of mine did to Their Fort last year.
Hardly justifies calling the cops – and these days the security system protects against the intruder who used to enter after and do nothing but empty our wallets and leave -- (the cops once set up a camera and caught him in our laundry room – but that’s all they ever caught.)
So I went out front and hijacked a strange man to come around back and help me lift the thing up into place. And I guess from now on I’ll leave the backyard light on at night – for what that’s worth.