A little forkhorn has been hanging around the yard for a couple weeks - gorging on the massive acorn fall from the oaks around the house. (He's probably also interested in the doe that's been around all summer raising her fawn, although I'm not sure he'd know what to do with her!) I've taken to calling him "Punk", 'cause he reminds me of a teenage punk kid - all full of himself and thinks he's the greatest thing the sun ever shined on, but he don't know his left nut from a chert rock and if you said "boo" to him he'd trip over his butt trying to get out of the way.

I sat on the deck this morning and almost spilled my coffee laughing at him trying to eat acorns and watch me at the same time.