Round Ten

Feeling pretty defeated after two weeks of 'possum wrangling and no opossum to show for it, I called the Wildlife Control company in my area. I got a voice message saying to leave a message. I didn't. I decided I'd call them tomorrow. I had a little more fight left in me although I'm not sure where I got the energy having spent most of the night listening to Santy Claws tap dance underneath my house.

I needed a new plan. I bought some luncheon meat as suggested by my trapper-neighbor. It was either that or marshmallows and luncheon meat was half the price. If I catch the neighbor's cat, he gets a free trip to no where. Not like I haven't fantasized about that! After much contemplation, I selected the "Honey Turkey" flavor thinking Santy Claws would like that best. I ran into my friend at checkout and told her I was grocery shopping for a opossum. A OPOSSUM!!! Unbelievable. She laughed.

I also moved the trap. Obviously it wasn't working at the shed even though that is where a Santy Claws hole is located. I went to the other known hole on the other side of the house next to the driveway and unblocked it, removing all the chicken wire, boulders and boards. The place where I first met Santy Claws. I thought, "It has come full circle...." I unblocked the hole, set up the trap just right so he couldn't get wily and trip it, sprinkled tuna juice and salmon juice all around, and strategically placed the honey turkey front and center on top the apple cores, blueberries, tuna, and bananas that were already in the trap although a little soggy from the last rain. I placed boards over the trap to shield it from the rain. I blocked the shed hole. This was my last hope. If it didn't work, I planned to call Wildlife Control and pay some big bucks to have a brave soul venture into the crawlspace and yank the Santy Claws out by his tail. Why can't I catch a opossum like everyone else? Woe is me.

The great thing about this new set up is it's right under my bedroom window. For the last two weeks I'd been getting up in the middle of the night to peer out the window in hopes of seeing the success of my efforts. It's been exhausting. I hoped instead of hearing hours of tap dancing I would hear a nice big BANG as the trap door closed shut. I left my window open so I wouldn't miss the excitement.

At 11:30pm I awoke to a slight, soft rattling noise. Hmmmm...one is never sure about noises in the middle of the night. I listened and waited. Then another rattle...rattle...rattle...BANG! BANG! BANG! Santy Claws was not too happy about being a prisoner. It sounded like he was annihilating the cage or someone was rolling it down the driveway. I just laid there smiling.

Awww...so cute.

 

I considered letting him sit in that trap until morning as punishment for his bad behavior, but I knew I wouldn't get any sleep. Considering how clever he is, I was afraid he'd somehow figure out how to open the door and sneak out. I wouldn't get another chance for sure. And I wanted to let him loose in the dark so he would feel more comfortable in a strange place.

He was so cute!  Fluffy fat body with a tiny little face and beautiful, beady eyes. When I'd get close to the cage he'd get real still and stare at me. Not a mean bone in his little body. No growling, snarling, hissing or showing of fangs. I kinda wanted to cuddle with him. He also ate all the food so at least he would be full and satisfied when I dumped him out in the middle of no where.



"OK, I ate everything. Now let me out."

At exactly midnight, Santy Claws had a new home about two miles away, up a logging road, in the woods, where I dump all my garden clippings. Lots of places for him to hide and far from a highway. I can't believe I was driving around in the woods at midnight.



A Opossum Possessed! LET ME OUTTA HERE!

Adios, Santy Claws! Don't come back! I'm so happy he's no longer using my insulation for a bed and overjoyed that he was not poisoned and dead under my house. You can't imagine how wonderful I felt! Total satisfaction.

For about a day...the next morning the tapping started again. Santy Claws must have a friend. I need some more Honey Turkey luncheon meat. Maybe I'll buy some marshmallows for his dessert.

The joys of country living.

Ocean Adventures, Part Seven: A Horse is a Horse, Of Course

This is the coolest sculpture I've ever seen! That includes Michelangelo's David and although I cried when I saw the Pieta, this horse still rates higher.

The whole thing is made of driftwood from the beach nearby. The artist of Knock on Wood must have selected each piece according to its individual shape. Just think of the time and patience this took.

The work was displayed on the artist's front lawn area. It's life-sized, maybe even a little bigger than a real horse. 

I got out of my car and walked around it several times.

I was hoping the artist would come out of his home and talk to me, but no one appeared. I would have liked to have seen other works.

Truly amazing.

I found this horse sculpture on my seventh ocean adventure taken on the last day of the month. Summer is a busy time for me so it's been hard to get away to relax and stroll, but I did it!  And, I found a new beach that was close by.

First, I stopped in at the cannery and bought some crab.

Yum.

I found this little beach. See the deep foot prints? The sand was really strange. Higher on the beach was dry sand, but closer to the water it was more like squishy mud. Deep and bouncy, like walking on marshmallows.

The water was deep, too. Rather than wade in gradually, it was a drop off. At one point I was tempted to jump in and swim around, but it wasn't all that warm and I figured the drive home would be really uncomfortable.

Nice weather, too, which has been lacking and now appreciated.

The salty air smelled so good.

Hooray!

Ocean Adventures, Part Six: Disappointment

Today I attempted an ocean adventure at a little fishing village thinking their farmers' market was on Sunday. Wrong. It's on Saturday. Darn. So I thought I'd still have a look at the ocean. Wrong. The town is located in a little cove so there were no ocean views. Darn.

So I drove. I knew a beach had to be somewhere nearby and I found myself [lost] on the Lewis and Clark Trail. So glad I didn't have to explore day after day on a horse in the rain like they did. I ended up around Cape Disappointment, aptly named. So today's ocean adventure: disappointment.

The views from the hilltops were beautiful...and free.

Unfortunately, the closer I got to a beach the more often I saw "Fee Area" signs. Call me cheap or just stubborn, but I won't pay to see a beach when I have so many at my disposal closer to home. It was really frustrating.  No adventure to be found. Maybe I should have sped through the payment booth and I not paid? Maybe I would have been arrested? That would have been an adventure!

Cape Disappointment was a disappointment.

The trip home was rainy.  Typical weather for the month of Junuary. Good weather for a Sunday afternoon nap.

Ocean Adventures, Part Four: Snoozing

Today was my fourth ocean adventure. I didn't want to go. I was tired. Although it's been my intention to try to visit a different beach with each visit, it takes time to drive further and further up the coast in search of a new one. Today I just felt like being a couch potato and forgetting the beach. But it was the end of the month and there is nothing like public guilt in the form of a blog to keep one motivated toward keeping a New Year's Resolution.

In addition to not being enthusiastic, I was afraid it would be another beach much like the last and the one before. Sand, water, dunes....beautiful, fresh air, but maybe this time I wouldn't find an adventure?

I went to the beach my grandparents claimed was the best clam digging on the coast. Along the shoreline there were holes in the sand filled with water from recent diggings. I had to watch where I walked as not to fall in one. The beach was actually much cleaner than others and no traffic access which was nice.

Birds are migrating home so I thought I'd expand on my bird theme of the previous week as a back up to no adventure. YAWN.

Not a very exciting theme even with thousands of birds on the beach. YAWN.

Lots of broken shells, but few whole ones.  The tide was way out, but coming back in.

I walked down the beach, circled around looking for shells. Out of the corner of my eye I kept seeing a lump on the sand, but didn't think anything of it. I wandered toward it slowly thinking it would give me something to explore. A piece of driftwood, a log, a dead seagull. And then I got closer...

A SEAL BABY!!!!!!

I froze, staring, dumbfounded. There are warning signs on some beaches (not this one) about the baby seals, but I've never seen a real baby seal all the years I have been beach combing. The warnings say to stay away from them, at least 100 feet. Their mothers have dropped them off to rest while they go hunting. You can see her tracks in the above photo. Unfortunately, I was already within 20 feet. I was in such shock I almost forgot I had a camera with me. Then it dawned on me, maybe it was hurt or dead? He looked dead, laying on his side all stretched out. As I stood contemplating the situation, the little baby stretched, yawned, wiggled his fins, then went back to sleep. OH MY GOD! Nope, just snoozing on the beach.

I took this picture with my close up. I was really too afraid to get much closer.  So pretty - silky white fur and a big, fat tummy. Then I felt incredibly protective, not sure if I should guard the baby or just leave be. I looked around for people or dogs running loose, but only a few people around and far away so I headed back to my vehicle.

On the way back I did run into a couple with dogs on leashes. They told me they came across a baby seal that started crying and trying to follow them. They were horrified. The woman said she was so upset that she started crying. They didn't realize they weren't supposed to touch them so they drug the baby by its fins to the water and it swam off. Hmmm...that gives me nightmares. Like dragging a toddler to the street and letting him loose to run free in traffic. Anything could come by and eat the baby in one gulp. Hopefully, the mother was just off shore watching.

So I left the baby right where he was, hoped mama seal would be back soon, and that everyone would leave him alone.  I can't stop thinking about him and hope he is alright.

Hooray for a really awesome ocean adventure!

The Exit Plan

This planet has–or rather had–a problem, which was this:  most of the people living on it were unhappy for pretty much all of the time.  

from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams

The number one cause of death for people with multiple chemical sensitivity is suicide.


There have been times when I've thought, I'm too tired to go on, I'm too miserable to care, I don't want to do this anymore.

Fortunately, I couldn't tolerate the ramifications of death. No more new movies to watch or music to discover, no great books to read or experiences to have. And as a believer in the inevitability of change, I can only hope life will get better next year or the year after. Suppose it does and I missed out? This is how one thinks when there is still a glimmer of hope. Ten years ago I never would have imagined I'd be living where I am today. Unimaginable, but here I am.

More importantly, I'd be forever the person in my family history too cowardly to live. People would feel sorry for me then ten minutes later return to their lives ...without me in it. Hey, wait, take me with you! Oops! Too late.  I would forfeit my right to life and leave a legacy of pity. And it seems incredibly self-centered and thoughtless. But I've thought about suicide. I'm pretty sure most people do, if not due to despair, just out of curiosity.

Years ago I devised an alternative suicide plan. If life got so unbearable I couldn't take it any longer, I'd hitchhike across the United States.  If I'm going to exit out, might as well have an adventure doing it, see some sites, meet weird people. Planning the routes and reorganizing my life into a storage unit would at least buy me some time. I might even change my mind in the interim. Or not. If not, then I'd pack my backpack, head to the nearest highway, and stick my thumb out.

If you have ever hitchhiked, you may remember the first time. We've all seen hitchhikers on the sides of the roads, in movies, in books, maybe feeling a bit of envy or longing for their rebelliousness or free-spirit nonconformity. But sticking your thumb out the first time is an experience in itself. You ask yourself with a little disbelief mixed with pride, "Am I really doing this?" "Am I now one of those people?" I hitchhiked through Europe a few times and I've got my stories. The adrenaline rush definitely makes one feel alive. I think everyone needs to thumb a ride at least once in their lives.

Back to the suicide mission...the United States of America is a dangerous place. Lots of lunatics free to wander and drive about. The real danger for a MCSer is a smelly driver. If the driver stunk, I'd say, Thanks, but sorry, you stink. If they all stunk, I'd walk the whole way with my thumb sticking out in the direction I wanted to go. If my instincts failed me and some crazy killed me, oh well. Then I'd be the person in my family history who was a daredevil.  She died doing what she loved.  Mission accomplished. Life is over. 

Granted, I understand the glitch in my plan would be lack of energy or debilitating illness, but I still think an adventure is more productive than suicide. The adventure would be so much fun I'd forget about the mission.


Sylvia Browne says if you commit suicide, you are reincarnated right back to live the life over again. Nope, not happening. I'm not repeating this life....

Hitchhiking across the USA is also my plan if I'm ever homeless. I'll sleep under a bridge if I have to, but I'd rather do it somewhere exotic...and warm.