For a change a changeable sun has started to shine from behind a changeable cloud. The Potterer goes out, takes a rake and looks to see if the soil is wet or dry. And discovers some sort of prints in the yard. They cross the lawn, coming from the fence, and go to the creek bank. Large tracks, far apart as if it had been an elk, or a bear with shoes.
Under the bushes soil had been uprooted too, the moss overturned. No tracks on the other side of the creek nor the other side of the fence. The Potterer then reads in the newspaper that a bear had been walking about in the city, 50 kilometres away. Men were sent to look, searched and searched, asked an old lady, but still found nothing. Bear expert Peep Männil was asked, what now? Männil said that a bear has a bear’s mind and will do what bears do. The Potterer photographs the tracks, might be the same bear but it must have learnt to fly? Flying bear? Maybe someone knows.
In the yard there is still a little snow to rub oneself with. The Potterer didn’t take the bird feeder down yet, puts sunflower seeds and some hazel nuts there in the mornings. The tits mind their own business now, they are not particularly interested. But a male bullfinch turned up, and then, a few days later, the female bullfinch is here too. Probably the male boasted to the female that he had a dinner table laid out.
The Potterer can be proud – he is behind the boast and has helped to promote the hopefully happy union. Or its continuation – who knows. At noon the male bullfinch however suddenly acts strangely, sits at the glass door to the yard, huddles, looks inside. She-cat Ooper returns the stare from inside. The Potterer opens the door, the cat slinks out, peers at the bullfinch, it doesn’t move. The Potterer wants to lift the bullfinch quietly up on the shovel, to bring it behind the fence to recover. But hop! the bird takes off - and is gone. Nothing wrong with it. Wonderful yard!
After using the sauna it is still possible to find snow to rub yourself with. Man discovered firemaking earlier than had been believed until now, maybe 1,7 million years ago. When did the first man start rubbing himself with snow? The Potterer takes the birdfeeder down. The woodpecker arrives, looks here and there, and then reprovingly at the Potterer. The Potterer goes and puts the birdfeeder back.
The weather is as a bad coin. There is no spring and it seems that it won’t come either.
The Potterer puts hazelnuts in the bird feeder. The squirrel comes. The squirrel’s name is Bird. Why else would it visit the bird feeder?
The woodpecker comes too, snatches a nut in the beak and is gone. Wherever it intends to find an anvil to get at the nut?