I love purple flowers! Any and all purple flowers…except this one: 

The musk thistle—scourge of Midwestern pasturelands! This prickly plant with the pretty rose-purple bloom is considered a noxious weed and falls under the Kansas Noxious Weed Law, which mandates land owners eradicate it from their properties. I am quite familiar with this weed because enforcement of the law was part of Bill’s responsibilities when he worked for the Plant Protection Division of the Kansas Department of Agriculture.
 
The reason musk thistles are considered a noxious weed is because they are extremely invasive, choking out good grazing grasses, and livestock won’t eat them. Seed dispersal occurs 7 to 10 days after blooming. A single plant is capable of producing in excess of 10,000 seeds. Seeds can remain viable in the soil for a decade or longer. Think dandelions, except thistles are not edible!
 
According to Bill, the life cycle of the musk thistle is variable. Usually it’s a biennial or winter annual (requiring two growing seasons for the plant to reach maturity); but has also been observed as a summer annual, completing its maturity from seed during the same growing season.
 
Reproduction of musk thistle is totally by seed. Seeds usually germinate anytime there is sufficient soil moisture, but most germinate in either late summer through fall or in the spring. After germinating, the plant develops from seedling to the rosette stage and remains in this stage the majority of its life cycle.

The key to successful musk thistle control occurs at this stage by spraying with an herbicide such as Tordon, Milestone, 2,4-D or several others, in the spring or fall. Unfortunately, some herbicides will also kill other plants so careful application is critical.
 
If eradication isn’t started at this point, the plant will soon bolt and look like this. 

Then it rapidly reaches the flowering stage as shown in the first photo. Here is a closer look at the head which looks like a rose-purple powder puff.  

Once the powder puff turns white, it’s ready to blow seed all over the countryside. When the seeds find a landing spot, the whole process starts over.

These next two pictures show the progression of stages once the heads form. The first shot is of the stalks and the second is of the heads only.
​

Eradication at this point is a labor-intensive search-and-destroy mission: Grab a small pair of pruning shears, heavy gloves, a hoe or shovel and a bucket(s), then head for the pasture. Comfortable shoes/boots, a hat, sunscreen, insect repellent and plenty of cold drinking water are also a good idea. This chore could take a while!
 
The purple head is cut from the plant and dropped in the bucket. If any heads have progressed to seed stage, they must be removed carefully to prevent further dispersal. Old feed sacks, rather than buckets, work better to contain the seeds. Then the entire stalk, including roots, has to be dug up. Since there isn’t any danger of the stalks reproducing, they can be left where they lie as long as there are only a few. If this is a mission of major proportions, the stalks should be gathered up and removed from the pasture.
 
To dispose of the decapitated heads, Bill uses feed or large dog food sacks, folding down and securing the tops so seeds won’t disperse, then puts them out on trash day for future burial at the landfill. 
 
Here is the reason for taking heavy gloves along on this mission. Notice the spiny appearance of the plant in the top photo. These spines grow on the stalk, leaves and directly under the bloom. I know from personal experience just how lethally sharp those tiny spines are. Get one embedded in your finger/thumb/hand and you will shriek a barrage of vulgarities you didn’t know you knew!
 
The spines are thin, barely visible, and can penetrate skin then disappear, leaving no entry wound. The only evidence is a painful red bump that develops within a few hours. Extraction surgery is the same as for a wood splinter. However, since the spine is light-colored, I never see it in the wound; just have to squeeze and hope it floats out in the blood. Then I douse the wound liberally with alcohol as a back-up plan to flush out the spine and also ward off infection. In case you’re wondering, yes, I am current on my tetanus shot! Whether or not the surgery was successful can usually be determined in a few hours by light pressure on the wound sight. If there is no jabbing pain, then the spine was successfully extracted. There will likely still be some pain from the needle excavation.
 
Another type of musk thistle control is biologic and uses two insects, the rosette weevil and head weevil, to help reduce the spread of the plant. My husband, Bill, who holds both Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in Entomology from Kansas State University, co-authored an article along with professors in the Entomology Department there. The article, “Biological Control of Musk Thistle in Kansas,” is available to read in pdf format at www.bookstore.ksre.ksu.edu/pubs/L873.PDF.
 
In a nutshell, biological control consists of collecting these weevils from musk thistles in one area and releasing them in the area you want to control. As their names imply, the rosette weevil resides and populates in the rosette stage of the plant; the head weevil in the head of the flowering plant. The weevil infestation damages the plant, reduces its size and decreases the number of seeds that disperse. This process takes several years for the weevils to become established in sufficient numbers to significantly reduce the number of plants. In the meantime, herbicide applications and the manual seek-and-destroy method described above need to be used. For more information, please refer to the article at the link above. Don’t be afraid: except for the Latin names of the weevils, the article is not loaded with technical jargon. I struggled with science in school and I understood it! Of course, I’ve been hearing about musk thistles since Day 1 in our relationship.
 
As I stated in the beginning, musk thistles are a scourge with no redeeming qualities. However, I read on one website that the author of the article used them in her bridal bouquet. What?? Not to worry. They were fake ones purchased at Hobby Lobby. But they must have appeared to be fairly realistic because they fooled her grandfather, a rancher.
 
I know many farmers and ranchers who wouldn’t be amused!

​Pretend you hear the opening notes of the “Dragnet” TV show theme song:

​Ladies and gentlemen, the story you are about to read is true. No names have been changed to protect the innocent.

The crime spree began in July, 2014. The first episode, “Dragnet!” was posted July 26, 2014 at http://www.fromhighheelstogumboots.com/gumboot-tracks-blog/archives/07-2014. Something had raided two bluebird houses in our yard. One contained eggs; the other, newly-hatched babies. Both were now empty. The prime suspect was Blackie, a black snake observed by me earlier in the spring, casing the premises using peony bushes for cover.

When Blackie returned to the scene for another meal heist, he was captured in a dragnet of wadded up bird netting attached to the pole beneath the bluebird house. Bill took pity on him, cut him free from the netting, perp-walked him across the road and released him into a neighboring pasture to do community service cleaning out the rodents.
 
A year later in June, 2015, Blackie slithered back to the scene of the crime, like the crack addict who can’t resist one more hit. But this hit would be his last. He spent at least one day, maybe two, trapped in the netting and succumbed to heat and sun exposure. No more “Baby Blue(bird) Plate Special” for him! Crime scene report and photos posted June 11, 2015, at http://www.fromhighheelstogumboots.com/gumboot-tracks-blog/archives/06-2015.

Fast-forward to June 5, 2019. Bill was planting zinnia seeds when he saw a trapped black snake dangling from the bird netting attached to the bluebird house pole.

​For four years, we hadn’t caught a black snake raiding this bluebird house. Blackie was dead. Was this new predator his progeny?
 
There was no immediate danger because the former occupants had raised their young and vacated the premises. Bill tugged on the snake’s tail and got a “hiss” in response. No, it wasn’t dead. He finished planting zinnias and went back later to deal with the would-be nest robber, intending to show him the same leniency as he’d shown Blackie on his first offense. But this next generation would not live to carry on the tradition. Like his predecessor, he succumbed to heat and sun exposure. 

​The question remains: Are we dealing with copy-cat criminals working alone or the next generation of a reptilian crime ring? And if the latter, was this latest predator Blackie’s progeny? We’re keeping the file open pending further developments.

​I’ve been compiling notes and pics of plants, animals, mushrooms and one force of nature event from around the farm to share in a nature-related post. 

The irises were gorgeous again this year! Well, except for one. When I first saw it I thought it was some kind of mutant iris. My comment was the border around the falls (they’re not called petals) looked like dingy laundry. Then, inspiration struck: “Dirty Water,” a top-ten hit on the pop charts in 1966 by the Standells. Hence, I nicknamed this iris “Dirty Water.”

Other first-time bloomers this year:

Last year I posted a blog on October 22nd about paw-paws. Recently, I detoured through the patch during an evening walk and found this cluster of six. Then, when I turned around to walk out of the timber, I saw a cluster of four. Previously, the most paw-paws I’d seen in a cluster were three.

Last spring, I discovered a quirk of nature that even Bill had never seen: two oak trees joined by burls that grew from both and met in the middle. We have no idea whether or not this is a rare occurrence but I researched and couldn’t find any information. 

Remember the post, “Potential Widow-Maker Project,” from July 10, 2015? http://www.fromhighheelstogumboots.com/gumboot-tracks-blog/archives/07-2015
I posted this pic of Bill hanging an old gate as an extension to the trellis our bittersweet had out-vined. 

Then this pic of the finished project, which Bill lived to tell about! 

Here’s a current pic of the bittersweet this year. The berries haven’t popped yet. Bill also transplanted wisteria here. Hopefully it will bloom next spring.

​Seriously, did you really think I would post a blog during calving season without pics of calves? Pictured are Petey (on the right), our first calf of the season born to First-Calf Heifer #206, and Calf #500, who we refer to as Petey’s Little Friend, born about ten days later to FCH #500. Petey didn’t waste any time welcoming his new pal to the pasture. He trotted right over minutes after the bull was born to check him out. Below—Just a couple of little boys playing in the water in a terrace ditch! 

OK, so here’s an animal that qualifies as “fauna.” Meet Bob, the bob-tailed squirrel. When I first saw him in the spring, his tail was only about half the length it should be. One of two things could have happened: Either a predator—Cricket, another dog or a coyote—chased and almost caught poor Bob; or he had a near-miss with a vehicle on the road. I’m not sure his actual tail has regrown, but at least the hair has and now looks “plumier” than it did in the spring.

Look what we saw leisurely strolling down our driveway about five yards from the house one morning in late February.

Bill saw the trespasser first and called to me to get my camera. I grabbed my little Canon PowerShot, racked it to full zoom (such as it is!), soundlessly slipped out the door and, in full “Farm Paparazzo” mode, got off a couple of shots. Luckily, the skunk’s fight or flight debate resulted in the latter, and it skunk-sprinted, actually a slow waddling trot, on down the driveway. I’m happy to report I avoided being maced!
​
I emailed the story and picture to one of the outdoor writers for the Topeka Capital-Journal. http://cjonline.com/sports/2016-02-27/josh-rouse-skunks-run-amok-near-meriden-home. He thinks I’m crazy for getting that close to a skunk. He’s probably right, but I’m also very, very watchful and careful. And lucky!

Morel mushrooms weren’t as plentiful this spring as they were in the past due to below average moisture during the winter extending into a dry early spring. We found a few, as did most people we talked to. But unusually wet weather during summer and early fall spurred the barf-up-your-socks and/or kill-you-dead varieties to pop up everywhere. There are types and formations I’ve never seen before.
 
Like this fairy ring, also known as fairy circle, elf circle, elf ring or pixie ring.

These naturally occurring rings or arcs of mushrooms can measure over 30 feet in diameter. This one I found is 20 feet. There were several smaller and less populated rings in the same area. The picture below shows a clump of mushrooms that were part of the large ring. 

The various names for these formations sound magical and Disney-esque. In folklore and myth, entering a fairy ring was usually considered hazardous. But some people believed entry could also bring good luck; one of those “enter at your own risk” debates. In reality, they are considered a turf disease affecting lawns, parks and ball fields.
 
Here’s the quick, simple but scientific, non-enchanting reason why these fungi formations with the cute, fairy tale nicknames cause heartburn for grounds maintenance staff for parks and ball fields, and homeowners trying to maintain consistently green, manicured lawns: Fairy ring mushrooms feed on decaying organic matter, such as debris left from removal of a tree or an old, thick thatch layer in the turf. The raw material is converted into nitrogen, which causes the grass in the ring to become dark green. The grass outside the ring becomes brown and thin due to fungi moving through the soil, compacting it and interfering with water penetration. My research didn’t explain why the formation is circular.
 
For me, finding fairy rings in our timber pasture was another discovery that makes our evening walks fun and interesting. I don’t claim to be superstitious, but I entered the ring to measure the diameter.
 
Money may not grow on trees, but mushrooms do!

The mushroom on the ground, far left, fell off the tree from the bare spot on the trunk. The two mushrooms to the right are attached to the base of the trunk.

​Saturday morning, Sept. 2nd, had a shaky start—literally! An earthquake of 5.6 magnitude with an epicenter several miles northwest of Pawnee, OK, was felt in several surrounding states and as far north as Chicago, IL.
 
A couple of minutes after 7:00, I was roused from a lazy slumber by the bed gently shaking. Eyes still closed, I assumed the shaking was caused by our Golden Retriever, Cricket, leaning against the bed and scratching. But I didn’t hear the thump-thump of her leg hitting the floor as she scratched. I cracked open one eye, looked around and realized she wasn’t in the bedroom. And my bed was still shaking. In my half-conscious awareness, I thought, “Earthquake?” Now I came fully awake and listened for rattling dishes and glassware but heard no clinking, clanking or crashing. Then the shaking stopped. By the time I got up, dressed and fixed coffee, the local news sources were posting the shaking, breaking news on their websites.
 
Judging by the posts on Facebook, I wasn’t the only person who initially blamed a pet for shaking the bed!

We’ve been snapping photos of various forms of wildlife around our place since spring. Here is a sample of some of our sightings.
 
Spring, 2015 saw the 17-year invasion of cicadas, returning to disrupt our country peace and quiet, and assault our eardrums! Good riddance until 2032!

From time to time, we see one or two coyotes in the pastures. So far, they seem to prefer snacking on baby calf manure, not the calves! One day I happened to look out a living room window and saw a coyote sniffing its way through the yard near the house. From previous experience, I knew I lacked the stealth skills to get a photo from outside the house. So I had to make do with shooting through the window screen. The resolution isn’t good but you can still see the coyote.

We see wild turkeys frequently but all I have to show for it is this picture of a feather, which Cricket found pretty interesting!

Speaking of Cricket, here she is with one of the many moles she eradicated from our yard this year. It's frantically digging through the gravel to escape the jaws of death!

Bill took some great photos of butterflies on our butterfly milkweed.

Early one evening, I saw this tree frog on a window screen. I took this shot from inside the house. 

Bill took this one from outside. Didn’t he get a fantastic reflection of the sky in the window?

As I headed into the house one evening, I saw this toad lazing on a skull in June’s Junque Garden. I raced into the house, grabbed the camera, raced back out and snapped a couple of photos.

But something about this toad just looked off. It was lying out flat instead of squatting. And, its eyes looked kind of, well, vacant. I bent over for a closer look then grabbed a stick and gently poked at it, expecting it to leap off the skull! It didn’t leap; it didn’t change position; it didn’t even blink. I cautiously poked at it with my finger. Holy crap! The toad was dead! Not just dead, but dead-dead, as in petrified! 

OK, I knew who was responsible for this little joke--Bill! Too bad he wasn’t around to see the show!
 
On our evening walks this fall, we’ve encountered a skunk scavenging for food in a pasture uncomfortably close to the house. So far, Cricket hasn’t done an up-close-and-personal with it. I maintain surveillance on both sides of the path and we keep her close if we spot the mobile mace-sprayer! I also haven’t been carrying the camera on these encounters. Even if I did, I don’t have any attachable lenses, and the built-in zoom doesn’t have the distance to keep me out of range of a hazardous gas blast!

When I was in second grade, the teacher, Mrs. McCoy, taught us the “Paw-paw Patch” song. Here are the first two verses and the chorus:
 
Where, oh where, oh where is Susie? 
Where, oh where, oh where is Susie? 
Where, oh where, of where is Susie? 
Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch.
​
Chorus:
Picking up paw-paws; put 'em in a basket. 
Picking up paw-paws; put 'em in a basket. 
Picking up paw-paws;put 'em in a basket. 
Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch.

Come along, boys, and let's go find her. 
Come along, boys, and let's go find her. 
Come along, boys, and let's go find her. 
Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch
 
Mrs. McCoy brought paw-paws to school for us to sample. I remember not being impressed by the taste which was like an over-ripe banana. I wasn’t then, nor am I now, fond of over-ripe bananas, unless they’re baked into banana nut bread or muffins. But I liked the catchy little ditty!
 
The paw-paw is a fruit with yellow-green skin and soft, yellow-orange flesh with a creamy, custard-like consistency. The taste has been described as a cross between a banana and a mango, and is very sweet.
​
This is a paw-paw not yet ripe. It’s about four inches long and two inches wide.

​Paw-paws also grow in clusters of two or three.

Here are some interesting facts I found while researching the paw-paw:

• It’s the largest edible fruit native to the United States and grows wild in 26 states, including Kansas.
• It’s a member of the tropical custard apple family, the only member not found in the tropics.
• The paw-paw has been nicknamed custard apple, poor man’s banana and Indiana banana.
• The small trees are usually found growing along banks of rivers and streams; however, our paw-paw patch is not near a stream.
• Native Americans and early European settlers enjoyed the custardy sweetness.
• The paw-paw is packed with nutritional value: high in protein, antioxidants, vitamins A and C and several essential minerals. I was surprised about the protein; most fruits aren’t known to have high protein content.

 Paw-paws ripen in late summer or early fall and we start watching for them on our evening walks. Unfortunately, the trees in our patch are short, spindly and don’t bear much fruit because other, taller trees block out sunlight. 

Several years ago when we moved to our current farm, Bill pointed out paw-paw trees to me on one of our evening walks in the fall. The song immediately came back to me. We searched our own little patch but only found a few unripe paw-paws. Bill picked one. We took it back to the house, cut it open and sampled it. Yuck! The taste was pretty bad, even worse than an extremely green banana! We would wait for the others to ripen and try again. But when we checked a few days later they’d disappeared. I blamed the timber critters. They couldn’t climb the spindly trunks, but maybe they shook the trees until the fruit fell in their larcenous little laps!
 
This year, I out-smarted those thieving varmints. I picked two paw-paws still a little green and set them on the kitchen counter, covered by a paper towel, for a couple of days to finish ripening.

Here is the inside of a ripe paw-paw. 

Somehow in my research I missed the part about the seeds. And there weren’t just four; there were nine! 

Now for the big moment: my first taste of ripe paw-paw since I was seven years old…

Wow, was I was surprised! The taste was like a rich mango-banana custard, but the banana was mild and there was none of the overripe taste I remembered from long ago.
 
Our joint consensus was, “Let’s go look for more on our evening walk!” We didn’t expect to find more than a few, if that many, since the season is almost past and our patch is not prolific. But we did find four.

​Now we have another activity to add to our “rites of fall” list:

Here is this summer’s Junque Garden:

We planted fewer containers this year and added some new items: a few treasures we found at the Sparks Flea Market in May and a couple I found in Topeka.

I found these three blue and white swirl enamelware pie tins at Sparks last year.

This child-size wheelbarrow was a Sparks find this year.

This cool weather vane was the special find at Sparks that not only spoke to me, it “mooed!” 

The concrete yard art cardinal was a First Friday Art Walk score in North Topeka.

The barbed wire “flower” came from the Craftee Crafters Craft Mall on North Topeka Boulevard.

My glass garden “bed” features the glass garden totems I make and a “bottle bush,” a shorter counterpart to my bottle trees. The ends of the bed are two headboards and one footboard from old iron bedsteads. The side “rails” are the wood cross pieces from old telephone poles with glass insulators. Other whimsical items include a couple of tin flowers and an ear of corn, parts off yellow and green farm equipment, croquet stakes and balls and Jerome the Gnome, garden overseer.

These hanging containers are large funnels, a couple of which we scavenged from our farm, and suspended by chains from old pulleys.

This cute enamelware bucket came from an antique shop in Alta Vista when I gave a book talk at the Ag Heritage Park last year. “Raspberry Blast Supertunias” cascade over the top.

I’ve already found a couple of items for next year’s Junque Gardens, and have an idea for a project I’ll work on over the winter. Hint: The project starts with the old gate in the first picture. It's leaning against the house under the lower right corner of the window.

The zinnias are out in full force! Last year on August 3rd I posted a blog about our zinnias with pictures of our favorites: http://www.fromhighheelstogumboots.com/gumboot-tracks-blog/archives/08-2014. 

Bill planted some new varieties this year. One of them is “Zowie! Yellow Flame,” shown in the first picture. The rest in this group are "Whirligigs." But I call them all Zany Zinnias.

I got lucky and caught a bumblebee checking out one of the blooms in the first photo directly above. I think the one to the right should be called "Red Hat Society Sock It To Me!" It has a ring of purple next to the center, then bright red petals. Actually, it's another "Whirligig."

The variety shown below is called “Cactus.” The blooms are a little larger than regular zinnias and the petals curl under. 

We’ve also added hollyhocks to the colorful chaos.

Most of the daylilies and hollyhocks don't provide much of a purple presence but tall garden phlox adds a splash of pinkish-lavender color.

Coreopsis thrives along the south side of the house.

Earlier this month, as I was hanging laundry on the clothesline, I heard a rustling noise coming from the clematis beside me. It vines up a repurposed cot spring trellis attached to the T-bar clothesline post. A male cardinal flew out and landed on a nearby tree branch. After I finished hanging up the clothes and returned to the house, I happened to look out the kitchen window and saw a female cardinal fly away from the clematis and toward the tree.

I told Bill about the cardinal activity. He went out and carefully poked through the vines and found a partially completed nest on top of the T-bar, a precarious place to build a nursery!

Once the nest was complete, the female laid two eggs. Trying not to be too intrusive, Bill monitored the activity and repositioned the nest when it started to slide off the crossbar. Finally, the eggs hatched. After a several days, we took pictures while the parents were out shopping for groceries.

The baby cardinals grew and started exploring their world within the nest. One laundry day, while hanging clothes on the line, I peeked at the nest and saw one of the babies at the edge with its beak wide open, begging to be fed. I also noticed the nest was tilted down off the top of the crossbar. I tried to gently push it back in position without scaring the babies but couldn’t get it fully straightened up.

I went back to the house to shlep another load of laundry out. Back at the clothesline I checked the nest, found it tilted down again...and empty! If the babies tumbled out of the nest, they probably wouldn't survive the fall. I searched the ground around the post but couldn’t find them. Then I peered into the clematis jungle and saw one of them perched on a wire in the cot spring, about halfway down the post. I ran back to the house to get Bill. I’m not very knowledgeable about birds and he would know the best way to rescue it. He put on a glove, repositioned the nest, gently picked up the bird and returned it, cheeping shrilly, to the nest. The parents were frantically darting from tree to tree, squawking their distress with the handling of their baby. We never found the second baby.

No sooner had Bill placed the baby in its nest than it clumsily fluttered to the ground. Again, Bill picked it up and placed it back in the nest. This time it stayed put so we quickly left.

Bill thought the babies were too young for flight-training but, considering the instability of the nest, maybe the parents decided to start early.

A few minutes later, I looked out the window and saw a very small bird attempt a clumsy hop that barely got it off the ground, then flutter back down, flapping its tiny wings for all it was worth. After a few seconds of rest, it hopped airborne again to an altitude of a few inches, followed by another uncoordinated descent. Bill and I went back outside, thinking another rescue was necessary. Then we saw Daddy Cardinal in front of his flight-challenged offspring, flutter-hopping backwards and cheeping encouragement to “Keep trying; you’re almost there!” Now we understood: Because of the instability of their nest, the cardinals were moving their young—we hoped they’d already moved the one we couldn't find. We’re not sure where they set up housekeeping; but they headed toward a small tree with low branches and dense ground cover around it.

Several days have passed. Occasionally we still see the adult cardinals. We assume the flight-training has resumed and the parents will soon launch their young out into the world.

Pretend you hear the opening notes of the “Dragnet” TV show theme song:

Ladies and gentlemen, the story you are about to read is true. No names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Eleven months and one day after his original crime spree and subsequent capture four days later, Blackie, the black snake, slithered back to the scene of the crime, like the crack addict who can’t resist one more hit.  

On July 26, 2014, I posted the account of Blackie, suspected serial bluebird nest raider, at http://www.fromhighheelstogumboots.com/gumboot-tracks-blog/archives/07-2014. He was a snake of interest wanted for questioning in the disappearance of one nest of bluebird eggs and one nest of baby bluebirds. Also posted was this picture of him lurking in the peony bushes while casing the premises.

Blackie’s original crime spree ended with his capture in strategically-placed bird netting while attempting to raid another bluebird nest. When found, he was overcome from sun exposure but regained consciousness once he was freed from the netting. His claim of entrapment didn’t stand up in court. But Bill, judge, jury and potential executioner, chose leniency over a death sentence of immediate decapitation by hoe. Blackie was sentenced to lifetime community service of clearing out the rodents from a neighbor’s pasture.

It was Monday, June 8, 2015. The day was sunny, warm and breezy. We were in a temporary lull between rain storms. The ground was saturated, water was standing in fields, rivers and creeks were running high and, in some cases, above flood stage. Another siege of storms was due to move in later in the week.

So far this spring, I had not seen Blackie and assumed he emerged from hibernation and resumed his community service in the neighbor’s pasture. We’d had three successful broods of baby bluebirds and soon there would be three more. One of the early broods hatched in the house of the original crime scene, and another was due to hatch shortly. But on the evening of June 8th, as Bill and Cricket returned to the house from our evening walk—I walked a longer route and wasn’t with them—Bill found a black snake trapped in the bird netting. Blackie! Or a look-alike copycat predator.

Bill documented the crime scene with photos.

A few minutes later, I arrived at the scene and took over the photography duty while Bill used scissors to free Blackie from the netting.

As before, Blackie wasn’t moving but that didn’t mean he was dead. However, the telltale stench of death did, indicating he'd succumbed to sun and heat exposure several hours earlier.

Blackie’s nest-raiding crime spree came to a fatal end. He’d been pardoned from death by garden hoe and given the rare opportunity to turn his life around. Tragically, he just couldn’t overcome his addiction to bluebird eggs and babies.