Early this morning--shortly after 1 a.m., M. says--she is a light sleeper and will wake up when a mosquito sneezes--the dogs erupted.
Bark bark bark. Jack running to the front door, wanting out. Shelby running to the cracked-open bedroom window. Bark bark bark!
It's the way that they react when a bear is near the house, although this time, unlike a week ago, we did not shine a flashlight out the window and illuminate Mrs. or Mr. Bruin standing there next to the rainwater tank.
Today I went over to the guest house, where the motion-activated camera had been set up on the back stoop. I found it knocked over. At least it was not twenty feet away and in pieces. Only one species generally smacks things as a way of investigating them.
So is this fuzzy white image a very over-exposed black bear, shortly before he or she clobbered the camera?
Maybe I need to rig the camera up higher somewhere.
(There were six other shots in the camera--the usual foxes.)
*It's a Pueblo literary joke.