Photography can be trying at times. For me, the troubles aren't just limited to the camera I carry. The trail camera that had been taking snapshots for years at the neighbors' pond finally decided to call it quits. 

While age and wear may have had something to do with its demise, Kennedy might have had more to do with it. He insists on biting or butting the camera.  He gets scolded when I catch him, but I'm usually too far away to make an immediate save. 

Despite my best efforts, Kennedy insisted on terrorizing the trail camera. However, he held no prejudice against just the pond camera. He has attacked all the game cameras. 

However, some of the resulting photos can be entertaining after my anger has subsided. Most are up close and personal photos of Kennedy with me in the background wearing a disgusted look.

Meanwhile, I get to view what shenanigans happen in the background while I'm distracted doing something. 

A new camera for the pond site was purchased so I could keep an eye on things.

​However, it didn't seem to be making many captures and there were no nighttime shots. Then there were no photos at all. Dead batteries seemed to be the culprit this time.

Then the camera reset to factory settings.

I checked it the next day and the display said the memory card was full. This seemed suspicious. There were over 1,000 photos on it. After checking the card, it had been a windy day and the swaying fall grasses had tripped the camera.

​Someday I will have to read the instruction booklet and figure out how to change the settings and fix the date so it isn't 2021. 

Meanwhile, the camera in my parents' backyard also was taking hundreds of photos in a week. I suspected that weeds or leaves in the wind had triggered that device as well. However, that was not the case. My parents' field was a hotbed of deer activity. 

There was a series of 15 photos of two young bucks that were up to shenanigans.

As the rut was in full swing, the camera snapped photo after photo of bucks pursuing does. 

Some of the photos suggested that the bucks' attention was unwanted. One day while walking we spooked a buck that was stalking a doe. The doe was used to our presence and seemed to use our appearance as a deterrent against the horny buck. After we moved out of the area, the buck came in and doe ran off. 

The rut has since wound down. However, the deer are still on the move as deer rifle season opened Saturday. 

Meanwhile, everyone in my posse is sporting orange vests for visibility during hunting season. It was a good thing that the vests were wash and wear as Sadie and Clem decided to wear them into the pond to "fish" for some ice chunks.

​That's just the nature of things 'round here. 

​Kyle, “The Goat,” Applegate, 10, of Sawtown, passed peacefully from this world Wednesday, Nov. 16, 2022, at a veterinary office in Seneca from possible urinary stone complications. 

​Kyle was born March 5, 2012, on the Fox family farm on Pinegrove School Road in Venus. He was the son of Hailey, the Alpine goat.
He then made his home with the Applegates in late spring 2012.

​He enjoyed the companionship of Brently, the Nubian goat, until Brently’s passing three years later from a urinary stone. 

​In 2015, he was joined by his half-brother Kennedy, who he leaves behind to mourn his loss.

​Kyle enjoyed freedom from employment all his life. He worked very hard at bullying his fellow pasture-mates and family dogs. He was also the unwilling star of a children’s book published in August 2015. It was titled, “Kyle: The Goat Who Ate Christmas.”

​He was preceded in death by a brother, Stan, in early childhood.
Additional survivors include his caretakers, Shane and Anna Applegate, and several canine and feline fur family members.
There will be no viewing or services.
Memorials can be made to Precious Paws, the Venango County Humane Society or to a charity of one’s choice. 

I never thought I would miss such a cranky caprine so much. I couldn’t count how many times I would say to Kyle, “I will be happy when you are gone.”
Those words said in anger and frustration could not have been further from the truth. I had to make “The Dreadful Decision” on Wednesday, Nov. 16, to release Kyle from his recent suffering. 

​He was a difficult goat to live with. He was incredibly strong-willed and stubborn. I tried several times to explain to him that other goats were not as spoiled as he was, but still he wanted things his way. 

​When Kyle and his first pasture-mate Brently came to live with us, they were very vocal. I immediately began to regret the whole “getting goats” idea. However, eventually, they settled in. Then I had the great idea to try to walk the goats. The first few times were very trying. At first, the little ones didn’t want to enter the “dark woods” because it was different from the open fields they were used to. Then they discovered that there was food or good browse in the woods, and they quickly changed their attitudes.
​The next obstacle was several creeks we had to cross. They had a phobia of water but eventually learned how to jump across.
Brently and Kyle enjoyed several adventures as youngsters until Brently succumbed to a urinary stone at the young age of 3.
I would like to believe that Kyle cared, but he didn’t. He was too self-centered to even really know. 

​While Kyle may not have had anyone to share his pen with at the time, he had a very young Sherman to chase him around. 

​Many years later, Gus would take up Sherman’s goat chasing mantle. 

​Meanwhile in 2015, his half-brother Kennedy was introduced to him. Kyle was not excited to share his pen, but was somewhat delighted to have someone else to bully and push around. 

​He and Kennedy butted heads many times.
​
Kyle also butted heads with me on several occasions, but in a more figurative kind of way.
There were several times when he decided he didn’t want to go on his walk at the time when the rest of us were going. He was then locked in the pen while everyone else went. He quickly vocalized his opinion and could be heard for several acres as the rest of us continued our trek. 

​He continually kept butting the door of the shed while I tried to get his food ready. He had no patience.
Kyle also seemed to be able to detect which flowers I didn’t want him to eat. This spring I never saw the new tulips I had planted because he picked them off as soon as the buds formed.
The same thing happened to my peace rose bush.

​For more than 10 years, Kyle’s ornery attitude just became something we delt with on a daily basis.
As my husband and I discussed this void in violence at our home, he recalled some other memories. 

​He said his favorite was Kyle having a verbal disagreement with an impact wrench from afar.

We kept hearing Kyle snorting and were a little concerned there was something in the yard that was a threat.
​
Upon going outside, every time an impact wrench sounded in the distance, Kyle would snort in a haughty reply. 

​He also was very irritated by the leaf blower and voiced his opinion at that piece of equipment as well. 

Other memories surfaced as well as I searched through old photos of the black and white alpine.
​
There were photos of a little Kyle too small for his collar. That stage didn't seem to last very long. 
Other pictures showed the aftermath of Kyle’s tendency to unhook things from his pen.

There were several times he got his head stuck in the hay bag or his feed bucket. I used to just chalk up the incidences to karma. 

​There were other shots that seemingly showed tender moments with Kennedy. They were most likely taken moments before Kyle then headbutted his half-brother.

 Several images of Kyle modeling a Santa hat additionally appeared. A torture he will miss this year.
​
I still can’t fathom my feelings of loss for such a big bad bully. 

​However, I still have a lot of memories and many, many photos of the cranky caprine.
Nonetheless if Kyle could come back from the afterlife and haunt us, he totally would.
​
That’s just the nature of things ‘round here. 

Sunsets and sunrises would definitely be photos that could be attributed to divine intervention and inspiration. A rainbow on my birthday also fell into this category. 

Additionally, this year’s fall foliage display was unquestionably divinely inspired. I am personally addicted to the brilliant leaves and must take a photo of just about every one. ​

I believed this season’s eruption of color to be one of the best I have tried to photograph over the years. The early trees were striking and appeared to maintain their colors before dropping their leaves.

​Even after the earlier trees were finished, the oaks were truly grand this year. Driving to and from work, the hills around the Allegheny in Oil City and Franklin appeared to be on fire with an array of hues.

The oaks simply lit up the areas with lovely October golds and fine red burgundy colors. In previous falls, the oak leaves were usually just brown and then down.  

This year the maple in our front yard did not disappoint either. It was its bright gold color. With a little experimenting with the lens ball, I was able to fit the whole tree into a photo without crossing the road. 

“People talk about perfect timing, but I think everything is perfect in its moment; you just want to capture that,” said American author, chef, restaurateur, food personality, producer, and former attorney, Eddie Huang. 

This made me ponder that everything is perfect in its moment and photography is surely important in capturing that moment in time. Sherman usually comes along at the right time too for many photos.
Other quotes echoed that waiting for the right timing, may in fact be a waste of time. 

“If you keep waiting for the right time, it may never happen. Sometimes you have to make the most of the time you have,” said author Priya Ardis, in her book “Ever My Merlin.”

That seemed like an awesome goal to me to make the most of the time I have, especially when duties like work and chores often take a lot of that time. 

Lastly, a quote from one of my favorite authors to quote, Mark Twain pretty much summed it all up.
“Don’t wait. The time will never be just right,” said a quote attributed to Twain.

"So, is timing everything?" I wondered. It is as long as we make it the right time. ​

​That is just the nature of things ‘round here. ​