The rains have finally left the Blue Ridge. All summer, I’ve been building a remote (understatement) tree house for the Big Cat Kittens and Mama. They will have to find it on their own. Bakers use those big plastic buckets for their icing bakery products. Then, they throw them out. I find them and cut the size down a bit. I use a base paint, and then I paint them forest green for camouflage. I put water in them and hang them from trees. Birds love it. During this last drought, the bird baths were a big hit. Then, the big birds showed up. Everyone gets a bath. I cannot name the big birds. It could be trouble. As I write this, they’re outside the cabin. Building a very serious mansion of a nest. Not really twigs. But sticks. Finally, my mouse problem is solved. I usually get song birds (cat birds, a favorite), or turkey buzzards. The cold is already biting the morning air. I learn stuff from my guests. Mainly, what I’ve learned is that I am the guest. Not the other way around. I did not chop enough wood this summer. I should have nine cords out there, not two. No chain saws. Too noisy. And the minute I leave to ride into town on my bike, I am in your world. Which is in no way, shape, or form, my world. That feather on the ground is the result of seventy million years of genetics at work. My shine corn is what I have faith in. I love it, and so do the birds. It has been a difficult year for wildlife. If I can make it better for the animals, that is why I am here.