I'm not sure where the Fall has gone. Seems like just last week I was still classifying antelope (well, yes, I was), and the buck mule deer were all still wearing velvet. And now, this week, their antlers are polished and slick.

And they're jousting.

The behaviorists tell us you can tell who is the dominant buck, and who will win the tussle, by which has the darker coat.

No, it's not necessarily an age thing. Or a size thing. Just that the buck that is most confident goes in with the hairs of his coat erect, looking darker, while the less confident buck keeps his slicked down, and lighter.

In this spar, that adage was correct. As in most I have watched.

In other news, spent much of the morning sifting through piles and piles of old mail looking for strutting ground data from this spring. In one case, I picked up a pile off the floor, and was startled to find bugs on my fingers.

On closer inspection, I found them to be dead bugs.

Encased in webbing.

This isn't good.

Turn over the pile of envelopes and magazines on my lap, and start separating them layer by layer.

And almost immediately find a large, shiny black spider dashing out of the papers on my lap towards my left hand and crotch.

Fuck!!

I hate black widows.

Especially when I don't know where she landed, or if my frantic swat hit her or not.

I am already up on my feet, of course, with all the papers on the floor. Frantically brushing at absolutely nothing on my jeans.

Over and over again.

Then the masked heeler is loudly ordered out of the room from her napping place under the desk, and I charge up to the kitchen.

This is war.

Whole room is soon properly nuked with RAID. And I spend the next hour watching Crossing Jordon while the poisonous mists seep slowly into every (I hope) crack in the sealed room.

Still smells of RAID.

I don't care.