My window tells me it’s hunting season in the forest; the animals arrive in droves. Wild turkeys nosh in the ragged edges of high grass near gas wells and fence lines. Deer sample delicacies in my front yard and garden, stepping gingerly through the rock garden in stiletto heels like yuppies at Starbucks. A possum steals cat food from a bowl by the front door. Last week a puma cornered my cat under the house. Truckloads of humans skid down the gravel road, slowing only for open fields that show promise. Beer cans pitch from open windows while search lights lase the night with surgical precision. A mama bear and three cubs pad gently over wet leaves toward the beaver dam where something surfaces and dives again with a splash. Everyone is laying up stores for the long winter ahead.