Nature Knocking on the Door

Less than a mile away from where we lived in Hopkins, Minnesota in the 1970s and 1980s is St. Louis Park, a slightly more inner suburb than Hopkins of Minneapolis. Beyond those, however, came several more outer rings—enough so that we considered ourselves quite urban. Nevertheless, we happily cohabited with wildlife, in part because a Burlington Northern right-of way passes through that region, Seattle-bound, in part because it had and still has rather extensive undeveloped pieces of land. Foxes, deer. Once a deer got itself seriously entangled in the fencing of our residence—but managed to extricate itself while we were still scratching our heads and wondering how to free it.

Now, some two decades after leaving there, St. Louis Park put up some signs along a fairly new bike path. I bring a picture of one here thanks to the photography and hat tip of Patricia Bungert, a family friend. Nature is patient but persistent. Mind you, Brigitte and I believe that Minnesota will be the last bastion of civilization still standing when all else has succumbed to barbarism—but things are looking a little chancy when the Coyote is at the Door in St. Louis Park.