We also share our moist, green habitat with some thirty species of birds, ranging in size from Blue Heron and Turkey Vulture to Hummingbird and in color from Cardinal to Bluebird to Goldfinch. Our sky is filled with dozens of songs ranging from Chickadee to Wood Thrush to Barred Owl. In the morning, I hear two geese moving into their day and a rooster from a few houses over.

In the mammal department, we have deer, fox, possum, rabbit and dogs across the street. We’ve not seen signs of bear, although will swear we spotted bear scat in the woods outside of Oilseed.

I once observed a fox calmly scratching fleas on the main path through the woods before it noticed me and ambled off. On another day, a Barred Owl swooped down closer and watched me for a minute.  When I took a step forward, it turned and flew back to its original perch. Jason had an encounter with what may have been the same owl a week ago in which they had a dialog, the owl making a clicking sound none of us have ever heard before and both vocalizing the characteristic “You allll”.

The deer get hunted and hit by cars but still number enough to require vegetable gardens be surrounded by seven feet of fence. Sam harvested at least two road kill deer last Fall. One he hit and the other he saw get hit. If (when) the world economy does collapse, the neighbors are prepared to augment their protein intake with venison. Road kill is local food in the same way free food found in dumpsters is.

The road to Pittsboro from Moncure is a vulture smorgasbord, offering every flavor carcass imaginable. We tootle down this road kill buffet an average of ten times a week and have seen everything from deer to chicken. There’s a chicken plant on up the road and sometimes they lose one to the asphalt god.

Until Friday, nothing has been killed on our piece of property by the road; the stretch of grass and asphalt I’m watching Bob mow from the window behind my monitor. Both Bob and I saw the dead squirrel alongside our ditch as we pulled into the driveway after work but we got caught up in potluck preparations and forgot to go out and drag it off.

The next morning, while checking my email I saw a Turkey Vulture swoop down closer than I’d ever seen one and land on that squirrel. “We should drag that off.” I said, hoping the ‘we’ part wouldn’t turn out to be me. “No doubt the vultures will carry it off.” was Bob’s sensible answer.

And then this morning, Garth told us he saw Ickle Bickle dragging a large, grey carcass, alarming him for a moment when he suspected it might be Kome. Which made our day because Bob didn’t have to mow around a pile of squirrel. I’m always amazed at how everything always seems to get taken care of by one of us around here.

On his way past the Abundance office, Lyle said he was looking for Bob. “I need to talk to the knower of all things.” For an instant I thought he’d said the mower of all things, which made sense to me because Bob mows like no one else I know.

Bob mows at work and at home and sometimes he mows on down the road.  By the same token, he also knows an awful lot.  “Not always right, but never in doubt” is what Bob jokingly says about himself.

If something is going to happen, Bob generally knows about it before the rest of us.  He was so good at forecasting sales trends in a company we worked at, that I gave him a crystal ball that Christmas.

Bob knows when to leave and he knows when to stay.  He called our departure date from Texas so close that it was less than a week after we pulled out of town that his employer missed making payroll.

But back to the mowing.  When we lived in Virginia, one of the first things Bob bought was a John Deere riding mower which he used to mow the horse pastures on our seven acre mini-farm.  A year later, what had started out as chest high grass gone to seed was looking like a golf course.

He knew when to leave that place, too.  We sold our little horse farm and left the country to manage a one hundred and fifty acre jungle resort with twenty horses.  We traded five horses on seven acres for twenty on one hundred and fifty without the necktie and mortgage payment.

I believe all those hours spent mowing those pastures gave him time, space and solitude to really weigh the reasons to stay against the reasons to leave.  He eventually came to the conclusion that stewardship could be every bit as rewarding as ownership but without the risk.

I’m not the first person close to Bob who noticed that he likes to mow.  His daughters knew this before I found it out.  The year we got together, I thought I’d get young Emily and Amy involved in celebrating his birthday.

“Okay,” I said, “Your Dad’s birthday is coming up – what should we get him for a birthday present?”  It grew quiet as they gave the matter some thought.  And then five-year-old Emily broke the silence with, “A lawn mower?”