This spring, I had been warned that I had a raccoon issue, but channeling the myth of the ostrich, I apparently stuck my head in the sand just a bit too long.

What were those prints on my patio? And where were my fish going?

These are questions perhaps uncommonly posed by many suburbanites, but for this nature lover and former Scout leader, it was just another day on “the farmette.”

I had chased away the great blue herons over the years, and this summer there were a couple of hawks in the yard. The newest fish, I opined, may have been weak or diseased. I chalked up their diminishing numbers to biology, and the winged forces of nature.

But then the pond walls began falling down, and I could not explain it away.

My patient pond guy was happy for the work, but I remained skeptical about

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