It was a bit embarrassing, but Maria caught me singing to Zip in the yard near the pasture in our afternoon meeting chair. Zip was bliss when I scratched him under his chin, and he fell asleep in my arms.

But being open is being open, and I was pretty content myself.

Zip has gotten under my skin (you can call him Zud.)

After that, he went off hunting. No luck today that I know of. (Above photo by Maria Wulf).

Zip hunting his nemesis, the chipmunk in the stone wall. So far, it’s chipmunk five, Zip zero.

We’re calling him “Prince Zip” these days. Whenever we return from chores, he’s abducted to a different place to hold court and keep an eye on his kingdom. Boy, is he at home?

I’m not the only one spoiling Zip.

Zip kept staring at the pasture, and I saw why; a robin caught a worm, pulled it out of the ground, and swallowed it whole. Impressive.

Zip usually chases the hens out of the apple tree; today, he relented and let one of them hole up there for a while. Zip is the absolute commander of the land around the farmhouse and, of course, the barn. He chased Zinnia out, and we had to feed the hens their work 20 feet away. The barn belongs to Zip.

Zip is ferociously territorial about his barn; he doesn’t like anybody coming in there except to feed him.