I prefer to focus on the people who saw an opportunity to help one another when the tragedy unfolded. Those people, the ones running toward the smoke, they put a smile on my face.
Be good.
Smile.
Love one another.
-Mike
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Boston Bombings
Some of my readers asked if I'd write a bit about the tragedy in Boston. While I appreciate your interest in my opinion I respectfully decline to share my feelings. Wood Ticks and Laughing Fits is about laughter and personal experience. Actions that wreck peoples lives have no place at this site.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
A Fine Spring Day
The weather in our part of North Carolina has been excellent the past few days. Mid 80's in the afternoon with dips near fifty in the evening. And so goes the old saying, "Spring has sprung, the grass is riz! I wonder where those flowers is?"
Most of the time I get excited about the change in seasons. Well, I'm always excited about the seasons to be perfectly honest. But this spring is going to be a bit more of a challenge than most. You see, we added seven baby chickens to our menagerie.
Normally such small animals wouldn't pose much of an issue for a pet friendly household like ours. Dawn and I have raised ducks, kittens, puppies, rats, snakes, mice, spiders and lizards. Throw in the occasional wild caught squirrel and you get a pretty good idea of what we are used to dealing with. So, we thought it would be nice, since we live in a chicken friendly town, to raise a few hens for eggs and bug control in the yard. Little did we know that my desire for a friendly chicken with good egg laying potential would lead to such turmoil. It seems that the leghorn variety of chicken is easily affected by the promise of spring and they are mischievous as heck. Actually, spring fever seems to have affected every animal in the house!
The weather, like I mentioned, has been gorgeous, so I decided to take the chicks outside for a bit of sunshine and scratching. Normally I wait until Dawn is home to take them out but the warm breeze through the living room window was calling my name this morning. So, like any good chicken dad, I took the flock outside. Unfortunately the flock included Jasper and Sampson as well. They bolted out the door just as it was about to close and shot off into the yard with triumphant crooked tails. They are so funny when they escape. Their eyes go wide, ears are pinned back and they do the craziest sideways hop-skip as they come to a stop and survey the world around them. If it weren't so dangerous for them to be outside I'd let them out every day. But we've lost two cats in the past year to life outside and we aren't interested in suffering an additional loss.
So I located a suitable place for the chicks and set them down. Jasper stood a few yards away, watching me get the chicks settled. I figured he would be the easiest to catch since he normally lets us pick him up when he gets loose. I double checked the chicks then started to walk toward Jasper. The closer I got the more he calmed down and finally began rolling in the yard. But just as I was bending down to pick him up, Sampson came speeding across the yard like a small fuzzy panther and hit Jasper broadside. At first I thought it was a neighbor cat attacking but quickly realized that despite the claws, hissing and teeth, they were actually playing. With my plans to capture Jasper foiled all I could do was stand there and watch them race around the yard much like dogs who have been let out after a day in the house. Dawn wasn't home so I figured I'd let them have their fun for a few hours and round them up before she returned.
So I located a suitable place for the chicks and set them down. Jasper stood a few yards away, watching me get the chicks settled. I figured he would be the easiest to catch since he normally lets us pick him up when he gets loose. I double checked the chicks then started to walk toward Jasper. The closer I got the more he calmed down and finally began rolling in the yard. But just as I was bending down to pick him up, Sampson came speeding across the yard like a small fuzzy panther and hit Jasper broadside. At first I thought it was a neighbor cat attacking but quickly realized that despite the claws, hissing and teeth, they were actually playing. With my plans to capture Jasper foiled all I could do was stand there and watch them race around the yard much like dogs who have been let out after a day in the house. Dawn wasn't home so I figured I'd let them have their fun for a few hours and round them up before she returned.
I shrugged my shoulders and said a little prayer to the cat gods that they would be OK. Then I turned back toward the house and noticed something rather startling. All of the chickens were standing on the ground behind me. They should have been safe inside their cage on the porch. Normally I'd think that such a thing was cute as heck but not in this case. I had at least two predators on the loose and seven prey animals chirping at my feet who are just shy enough to stay about a fingers length out of reach at all times. They are mature enough to barely fly and it turns out that the Leghorn variety is a rather flighty chicken. This would not do. Somehow, as I was taking their cage outside I must have dislodged it from its lower part. Sure enough, the cage was sitting cockeyed on the porch.
My first instinct was to bend over and start snatching up chicks but I stopped myself. Snatching at baby chickens is as about as effective as trying to give a haircut over the phone. What could I do? I scanned the yard and didn't see any cats. I also didn't see any neighbors who could help me either. So, I took a tentative step toward the house thinking that maybe they would follow me. The moment I lifted my foot, seven little yellow balls of fluff scattered in every direction. After a few moments they settled down and returned to form a tiny flock a few feet away from me.
I needed to capitalize on their natural instincts in order to capture them. What do baby chickens do naturally? They eat, they drink, they play, and they hide. Ah ha! I was on to something. If I could scare them into thinking they were in danger maybe they would run to me instead of across the yard. I thought back to my days in Wisconsin with a high school friend, Ray. You see, Ray had the ability to scare the daylights out of prairie dogs at the zoo. He would cup his hands to his mouth and make a soft whistle that sounded exactly like the far away cry of a hawk overhead. We used to stand by the prairie dog enclosure and laugh like fools each time he sent the lot of them dashing for the first available hole. One by one they would peek their heads out of the holes and check to see the coast was clear. After a few minutes of relaxation Ray would whistle and prairie dog alarm calls would fill the air as fuzzy brown bodies scampered off to safety.
Trying to look as much like a mother hen as possible I knelt down on the ground and hunched over creating a little space under my arms and chest. The chicks backed up a few feet. Then I let out the "hawk call".
At this point I bet you are thinking that I'm a complete idiot and if you are thinking that then, well, you are entirely correct. The chicks wanted nothing to do with me. I was the source of the sound and goodness forbid if they were going to go near me. Especially with me looking all hunched over and stupid like I was. All I succeeded in doing was to scare them farther away from me. Each time I whistled the little yellow mass of dark eyes and chirps would scamper a few more feet away. After the third try I gave up. We sat there, the flock and I, surveying the situation.
Then like a bolt out of the blue it hit me. I could prop the front door open and scare them back into the house! All I'd have to do is put the cats who were inside safely in a bedroom so no one else could get loose. I stood up, ran in the house and secured the remaining cats in the Zen room.
Back in the yard I resumed my "hawk" position. Hind sight tells me that it was completely unnecessary to crouch down like an idiot and crawl around whistling in my yard. But I was so focused on my earlier success that the thought of changing part of the equation didn't seem appropriate.
"Screeeeeee" I called and crawled a few feet closer to the tiny flock. "Chirp chirp chirp" they sounded their normal alarm and scooted ever closer to the house. After about eight or ten hawk calls the chicks were finally on the doorstep. All I needed to do was convince them to jump up the little step onto the threshold and close the door behind them. As I prepared for my last 'screee' call I heard a voice from the neighbors yard.
"You OK Mike? Ya need some help?"
"Um...no....I, uh...just a minute." I crawled closer to the house and let out the last call. Just as I had planned, the chicks jumped onto the threshold and I triumphantly dashed toward the house and shut the front door. They were safely inside.
"Ya know ya got animals pouring out yer house right?" the neighbor said.
"Yeah, two of the cats got loose while I was taking the chicks outside. Then the chicks got out of the cage and I had to scare them back into the house." I walked over to his side of the yard and wiped off my hands and knees.
"Well, I don't know bout the ones who got out with the chicks, but man, ya got cats climbing out yer back win-der an yer rabbits been runnin' round the back yard just playin an hoppin round like he owns the place."
My heart sank. Cold sweat washed over me and goosebumps dotted my body from head to toe.
"You mean....wha....seriously? Where?" I closed the distance between us with a screwed up look on my face. I was frantic. If half of what he said was true then I was totally screwed.
He backed up a few steps and held out his hands as I approached him. "Go round back an look. Ya got cats a'climbin out everywhere!" What the heck was he afraid of I wondered?
He wasn't kidding. Somehow Dora, Stanley, Chloe and Bobcat had managed to pull the screen up just enough to sneak out of the Zen room window. Milton the rabbit must have watched them because he either left out the widow with them or snuck out the front door while I wasn't paying attention. There in the back yard, in various states of play or relaxation were most of our cats and the rabbit.
I wasted no time and started rounding up cats. One by one I managed to pick them up and return them to the house. My neighbor was kind enough to stand and watch me clambering around, under and over my back deck herding cats.
"Ya shouldn't let em out like that if they ain't got leashes Mike." he commented when I finally had the last cat in the house.
"Well obviously I didn't let them out. They opened the screen window and let themselves out. Thanks for noticing it! Dawn would have killed me if she knew they all got loose." I wiped a bit of sweat off my brow and smiled.
"Oh, I called Dawn an told her bout it. Well, not Dawn directly but the office lady who answered the phone took a message. I didn't know what you was doin all crawlin an whistlin' in the yard so I figured you needed help. I called and told her people at school that she might wanna come home an git her animals rounded up cuz you didn' look so good."
"YOU WHAT?!" I shouted.
"Well it looked ta me like sumthin was wrong." he replied. "You was all crawlin' an makin' noises. I was worried fer ya!"
"NO NO NO NO! Don't ever call Dawn! I got everything under control here. Oh man. Why would you call her? You have no idea what this means. She's going to think I'm an idiot." I grabbed my head and started pacing. I had to call the school. "You got your phone on you?" I shouted. "Hit redial right quick and let me talk to the school. I have to tell them everything is OK." I jumped off the porch and ran to his yard. He backed up, grabbed his phone, hit redial and handed it to me at arms length. I reached the receptionist and gave a quick explanation of the situation and assured her that everything was perfectly fine.
Or so I thought.
Dawn arrived home a few hours later at her normal time. I was sitting on the porch, the chickens were grazing in the yard safely inside their portable pen and the cats were safely inside the house behind locked windows enjoying the air conditioning.
"Hi Princess!" I called as Dawn opened the car door. "How was school?" I put on my best 'welcome-home-everything-is-fine' smile.
"Where are the cats?" She demanded.
"In the house, why?"
"Where is Milton?" She shot back.
"He's in the house too. Why? What's wrong honey?" I quizzed.
"Milton is in the house? Like right now, he's in the house?" The look on her face told me something was amiss.
"Um, yeah, where else would he be?" I tried my best to sound astonished.
"Well if Milton is in the house then we have a strange white rabbit who looks identical to Milton sitting under the rose bushes not five feet away from you Mike." She pointed.
My heart sank. "Uh...oh yeah, he got loose. Um....yeah....loose." I sounded like the Rain Man and looked at Milton and then at my feet. "He likes outside....yeah....rabbits like outside....got loose....rabbits like outside."
Dawn just shook her head, swung her bag over her shoulder and walked over to Milton, scooped him up like a baby and walked him into the house. I stayed on the porch and stared at my feet. Dawn returned a few moments later. She walked over to her rocking chair and sat quietly watching the chicks. I was glad for the silence.
A long second or two passed without a word between us. Just as I was about to break the silence I saw the neighbor walking toward our place.
He must have been itching for a beating because he commenced to telling Dawn about the days events. I had to sit there as he retold the story of how I was humped over in the yard making screeching noises at chickens and chasing cats for half an hour around the deck. In true neighbor fashion he was sure to go into full animated descriptions complete with sound effects to describe my afternoon adventure. I smiled and quietly plotted his demise while he and Dawn giggled and laughed together. Then, with mission accomplished, he returned to the perceived safety of his own yard. I squinted after him and was going to plot some sort of revenge when Dawns voice caught my attention.
"You realize that our neighbors and my co-workers think you are a little challenged don't you Mike?"
"Well, what the heck was I supposed to do? I had predator and prey animals in proximity to each other and then the whole damn crew got loose out the Zen room window." I retorted. "Don't forget! You said I should work from home and take care of the animals. So that's what I do. I don't give half a damn if people think I'm crazy. Let 'em. And let 'em be jealous of our lifestyle. People would give their eye teeth to work from home and play with their pets all day." I thought I had successfully defended myself and figured I should quit while I was ahead. I nodded in self approval, set my jaw and stared off into the yard.
Dawn must have noticed that I was embarrassed. She stood up, walked over and sat on my lap. She took my face in her soft loving hands and said, "Mike, you did everything perfect. Don't worry about the neighbors. You are right. They must be jealous because they always have something to say about the things you do." She hugged me into her chest and patted me on the back. "Either that or they think you have a few screws loose!" Then she shrieked as I grabbed her in the ribs and tickled. Our laughter rang down the block and I'm sure our nosy neighbors ran to their windows to see what was happening at the Gonzalez house.
"Spring has sprung, the grass is riz. I wonder what's happening at the Gonzalez's?"
I needed to capitalize on their natural instincts in order to capture them. What do baby chickens do naturally? They eat, they drink, they play, and they hide. Ah ha! I was on to something. If I could scare them into thinking they were in danger maybe they would run to me instead of across the yard. I thought back to my days in Wisconsin with a high school friend, Ray. You see, Ray had the ability to scare the daylights out of prairie dogs at the zoo. He would cup his hands to his mouth and make a soft whistle that sounded exactly like the far away cry of a hawk overhead. We used to stand by the prairie dog enclosure and laugh like fools each time he sent the lot of them dashing for the first available hole. One by one they would peek their heads out of the holes and check to see the coast was clear. After a few minutes of relaxation Ray would whistle and prairie dog alarm calls would fill the air as fuzzy brown bodies scampered off to safety.
Trying to look as much like a mother hen as possible I knelt down on the ground and hunched over creating a little space under my arms and chest. The chicks backed up a few feet. Then I let out the "hawk call".
At this point I bet you are thinking that I'm a complete idiot and if you are thinking that then, well, you are entirely correct. The chicks wanted nothing to do with me. I was the source of the sound and goodness forbid if they were going to go near me. Especially with me looking all hunched over and stupid like I was. All I succeeded in doing was to scare them farther away from me. Each time I whistled the little yellow mass of dark eyes and chirps would scamper a few more feet away. After the third try I gave up. We sat there, the flock and I, surveying the situation.
Then like a bolt out of the blue it hit me. I could prop the front door open and scare them back into the house! All I'd have to do is put the cats who were inside safely in a bedroom so no one else could get loose. I stood up, ran in the house and secured the remaining cats in the Zen room.
Back in the yard I resumed my "hawk" position. Hind sight tells me that it was completely unnecessary to crouch down like an idiot and crawl around whistling in my yard. But I was so focused on my earlier success that the thought of changing part of the equation didn't seem appropriate.
"Screeeeeee" I called and crawled a few feet closer to the tiny flock. "Chirp chirp chirp" they sounded their normal alarm and scooted ever closer to the house. After about eight or ten hawk calls the chicks were finally on the doorstep. All I needed to do was convince them to jump up the little step onto the threshold and close the door behind them. As I prepared for my last 'screee' call I heard a voice from the neighbors yard.
"You OK Mike? Ya need some help?"
"Um...no....I, uh...just a minute." I crawled closer to the house and let out the last call. Just as I had planned, the chicks jumped onto the threshold and I triumphantly dashed toward the house and shut the front door. They were safely inside.
"Ya know ya got animals pouring out yer house right?" the neighbor said.
"Yeah, two of the cats got loose while I was taking the chicks outside. Then the chicks got out of the cage and I had to scare them back into the house." I walked over to his side of the yard and wiped off my hands and knees.
"Well, I don't know bout the ones who got out with the chicks, but man, ya got cats climbing out yer back win-der an yer rabbits been runnin' round the back yard just playin an hoppin round like he owns the place."
My heart sank. Cold sweat washed over me and goosebumps dotted my body from head to toe.
"You mean....wha....seriously? Where?" I closed the distance between us with a screwed up look on my face. I was frantic. If half of what he said was true then I was totally screwed.
He backed up a few steps and held out his hands as I approached him. "Go round back an look. Ya got cats a'climbin out everywhere!" What the heck was he afraid of I wondered?
He wasn't kidding. Somehow Dora, Stanley, Chloe and Bobcat had managed to pull the screen up just enough to sneak out of the Zen room window. Milton the rabbit must have watched them because he either left out the widow with them or snuck out the front door while I wasn't paying attention. There in the back yard, in various states of play or relaxation were most of our cats and the rabbit.
I wasted no time and started rounding up cats. One by one I managed to pick them up and return them to the house. My neighbor was kind enough to stand and watch me clambering around, under and over my back deck herding cats.
"Ya shouldn't let em out like that if they ain't got leashes Mike." he commented when I finally had the last cat in the house.
"Well obviously I didn't let them out. They opened the screen window and let themselves out. Thanks for noticing it! Dawn would have killed me if she knew they all got loose." I wiped a bit of sweat off my brow and smiled.
"Oh, I called Dawn an told her bout it. Well, not Dawn directly but the office lady who answered the phone took a message. I didn't know what you was doin all crawlin an whistlin' in the yard so I figured you needed help. I called and told her people at school that she might wanna come home an git her animals rounded up cuz you didn' look so good."
"YOU WHAT?!" I shouted.
"Well it looked ta me like sumthin was wrong." he replied. "You was all crawlin' an makin' noises. I was worried fer ya!"
"NO NO NO NO! Don't ever call Dawn! I got everything under control here. Oh man. Why would you call her? You have no idea what this means. She's going to think I'm an idiot." I grabbed my head and started pacing. I had to call the school. "You got your phone on you?" I shouted. "Hit redial right quick and let me talk to the school. I have to tell them everything is OK." I jumped off the porch and ran to his yard. He backed up, grabbed his phone, hit redial and handed it to me at arms length. I reached the receptionist and gave a quick explanation of the situation and assured her that everything was perfectly fine.
Or so I thought.
Dawn arrived home a few hours later at her normal time. I was sitting on the porch, the chickens were grazing in the yard safely inside their portable pen and the cats were safely inside the house behind locked windows enjoying the air conditioning.
"Hi Princess!" I called as Dawn opened the car door. "How was school?" I put on my best 'welcome-home-everything-is-fine' smile.
"Where are the cats?" She demanded.
"In the house, why?"
"Where is Milton?" She shot back.
"He's in the house too. Why? What's wrong honey?" I quizzed.
"Milton is in the house? Like right now, he's in the house?" The look on her face told me something was amiss.
"Um, yeah, where else would he be?" I tried my best to sound astonished.
"Well if Milton is in the house then we have a strange white rabbit who looks identical to Milton sitting under the rose bushes not five feet away from you Mike." She pointed.
My heart sank. "Uh...oh yeah, he got loose. Um....yeah....loose." I sounded like the Rain Man and looked at Milton and then at my feet. "He likes outside....yeah....rabbits like outside....got loose....rabbits like outside."
Dawn just shook her head, swung her bag over her shoulder and walked over to Milton, scooped him up like a baby and walked him into the house. I stayed on the porch and stared at my feet. Dawn returned a few moments later. She walked over to her rocking chair and sat quietly watching the chicks. I was glad for the silence.
A long second or two passed without a word between us. Just as I was about to break the silence I saw the neighbor walking toward our place.
He must have been itching for a beating because he commenced to telling Dawn about the days events. I had to sit there as he retold the story of how I was humped over in the yard making screeching noises at chickens and chasing cats for half an hour around the deck. In true neighbor fashion he was sure to go into full animated descriptions complete with sound effects to describe my afternoon adventure. I smiled and quietly plotted his demise while he and Dawn giggled and laughed together. Then, with mission accomplished, he returned to the perceived safety of his own yard. I squinted after him and was going to plot some sort of revenge when Dawns voice caught my attention.
"You realize that our neighbors and my co-workers think you are a little challenged don't you Mike?"
"Well, what the heck was I supposed to do? I had predator and prey animals in proximity to each other and then the whole damn crew got loose out the Zen room window." I retorted. "Don't forget! You said I should work from home and take care of the animals. So that's what I do. I don't give half a damn if people think I'm crazy. Let 'em. And let 'em be jealous of our lifestyle. People would give their eye teeth to work from home and play with their pets all day." I thought I had successfully defended myself and figured I should quit while I was ahead. I nodded in self approval, set my jaw and stared off into the yard.
Dawn must have noticed that I was embarrassed. She stood up, walked over and sat on my lap. She took my face in her soft loving hands and said, "Mike, you did everything perfect. Don't worry about the neighbors. You are right. They must be jealous because they always have something to say about the things you do." She hugged me into her chest and patted me on the back. "Either that or they think you have a few screws loose!" Then she shrieked as I grabbed her in the ribs and tickled. Our laughter rang down the block and I'm sure our nosy neighbors ran to their windows to see what was happening at the Gonzalez house.
"Spring has sprung, the grass is riz. I wonder what's happening at the Gonzalez's?"
Sunday, March 24, 2013
The Hougarhide
Hougarhide: (noun) sounds like cougar-hide;
A poly-cephalic heavily built, bipedal, short-legged mammal thought to be of the weasel family. Similar to to the Wolverine or Gulo-Gulo in appearance but stands upright on its hind legs. Because they are elusive and horrifically ill tempered not much is known about the species. The scant amount of data on the creature has been collected and maintained mostly by grandmothers in Northern Minnesota and passed on via oral tradition to young children who attempt to play near a river or other dangerous location. A vicious and solitary creature, the hougarhide will immediately attack any child who strays too close to its lair and immediately begin chewing on the child's legs and feet with its shiny white chomping teeth.
At least that's what my grandmother told me when I was a boy.
Actually she didn't tell me directly. My cousins and I were "allowed" to overhear a conversation between our grandma Selma and our aunts. It happened after we were scolded and told to go inside the house after fiddling around with an old boat. You see, a few of us had snuck our way toward the edge of Lawrence Lake. A forbidden place! Our fathers were were in a boat fishing on the other side. We could see them from where we were and there is nothing more distressing to a group of cousins than to be stuck on shore while your fathers go fishing. So, like the Borg Collective, we decided to launch grandpa Walts very old, very leaky and very un-seaworthy old rowboat. We thought nothing of it but obviously our mothers were unhappy with the idea of five to ten year old children launching a guaranteed deathtrap into a deep glacial lake. So once we were rounded up and safely inside the house, we overheard the following conversation.
"Mom, do you remember the hougarhide?"
"Oh Violet, don't talk about that thing!" grandma exclaimed. "I had to beat it with a stick to get it off of you."
"Who else did the hougarhide get? Didn't Janet and Weldie get bit too?" my mother chimed in.
Grandma continued, "Oh it really hurt Weldie. His little legs were so torn up. I was lucky that I heard him scream when it got him."
"What did you do?" said a voice.
"Well I grabbed the biggest stick I could find. When I got to Weldie I had to hold on to him and try to pull him away from those chomping teeth and beat it on its heads as hard as I could! But as soon as one head would stop biting his legs then the other one would start! Oh, he screamed and screamed and I was crying. It even bit me a few times. Uff-da! I don't wana talk about it anymore."
"Yup, that's why we never went by the river or the lake when we were little. Does the hougarhide still live there?" aunt Barb asked.
Grandma replied, "Oh I think Norman saw one of its dens not long ago. See, they have to make their dens deeper in the woods because the river floods. Once a it finds a good spot it digs a den then it tears up all the little trees and rips up the ground so everything in front of its den is wrecked."
"Well, I just hope none of the kids get hurt by that thing. Do you think we should tell them about it or do you think they will listen well enough and keep away from where they aren't supposed to go?" aunt Violet asked.
"Oh I don't think we should scare them. They are good kids. They listen pretty well." grandma finished.
We were, all of us cousins, playing in the living room when we heard the conversation. You can just imagine the black hole of silence created by a group of cousins, frozen in place, straining to hear every word in the next room.
Our little minds were racing. Two heads? Hougar-what? Chewing on legs and feet and beating it with clubs? And what in the world could be so bad that it made grandma cry? Adults never cry unless there is a funeral. Did she think Uncle Weldie was gonna die? This was serious and we just had to learn more. The combination of fear and curiosity spurred by the conversation overcame us. All at once we broke free from the spell and for whatever our individual reasons, we had to be near an adult at that very moment. A gaggle of cousins poured into the dinning room where the women were enjoying their coffee.
Once we were located skin tight to our preferred adult a little voice broke the silence.
"Um, what's a Hool-gra, a Hoor-a-guide?"
"Oh no. You kids didn't hear that did you?" aunt Barb exclaimed in shock. Her change in posture and frightened look made each of us feel as if the damn thing was standing right behind us ready to pounce. The younger cousins clamped their eyes shut and buried their faces in a mother or aunt and the older ones, myself included, nearly jumped on the table. You couldn't fit a razor blade in the space between woman and child.
"I think we should tell them about it Joyce." Aunt Janet looked at my mother and continued. "They might as well learn about it so they don't get hurt."
"I'm not telling them. You tell them. If they can't stay away from the places they aren't supposed to go then they'll find out one way or another." my mom replied.
What in the name of all that was good a right was my mother talking about? This was the very same woman who won't let me ride my bike to the end of the driveway. Heck, I can't even take a rope into the woods because I might, "get hung up by your neck!" And now, this very same woman was willing to loose one or more of us to this two headed horror by attrition. My little mind reeled.
Over the next few moments and strategically placed pauses for sips of coffee, the aunts took turns explaining the hougarhide, its habits and terrifyingly vicious nature. Young cousins whimpered or covered their ears during the scariest parts and I noticed that even the oldest of us had now wrapped both arms securely around our preferred adult.
Those women were brilliant, wicked, and wise. I'm sure they fully enjoyed the hugs and unsolicited cuddles they were getting. Plus the rapt attention and quiet must have been a great bonus.
In time, the conversation turned to things only adults cared about and we began to relax. By then, we started climbing off laps and releasing our death grips and drifted back into various parts of the house. Slowly, the afternoon returned to normal. We chased each other, hid in closets, tried to sneak into the basement or got caught fiddling with the wood stove. It was at that point that we heard the dreaded words, "All right! You kids better get outside right now or there is going to be trouble."
I think I would have preferred an arrow in the knee at that moment. How in the heck did these women expect us to go outside when clearly there was an actual monster at large? What is more, Minnesota is the "Land of Ten Thousand Lakes" and that doesn't include rivers. I was old enough to do some simple math and it occurred to me as I stood wiping ashes from the wood stove onto my pants that the entire state was likely crawling with hougarhide's! Everywhere we looked, everywhere we drove, there was a lake or river or swamp or other equally dangerous location. But the women didn't care. One by one we were reluctantly shooed out the door.
Once in the yard the door thumped shut behind us. I turned and looked for my brother. I didn't have to look far, he was holding my hand. "Mark, we better play in the driveway cause its prolly safer then by the woods." I said.
Mark didn't respond but plopped himself down in the grass by the front door. The rest of us followed suit. And from that day on we were the most cautious children north of the equator.
In time, some of us grew up and had nervous episodes each time we got near water but for the most part, we went on to become healthy adults with our own families. And you can bet, that with each new batch of kids, comes another retelling of the story of the hougarhide.
Actually she didn't tell me directly. My cousins and I were "allowed" to overhear a conversation between our grandma Selma and our aunts. It happened after we were scolded and told to go inside the house after fiddling around with an old boat. You see, a few of us had snuck our way toward the edge of Lawrence Lake. A forbidden place! Our fathers were were in a boat fishing on the other side. We could see them from where we were and there is nothing more distressing to a group of cousins than to be stuck on shore while your fathers go fishing. So, like the Borg Collective, we decided to launch grandpa Walts very old, very leaky and very un-seaworthy old rowboat. We thought nothing of it but obviously our mothers were unhappy with the idea of five to ten year old children launching a guaranteed deathtrap into a deep glacial lake. So once we were rounded up and safely inside the house, we overheard the following conversation.
"Mom, do you remember the hougarhide?"
"Oh Violet, don't talk about that thing!" grandma exclaimed. "I had to beat it with a stick to get it off of you."
"Who else did the hougarhide get? Didn't Janet and Weldie get bit too?" my mother chimed in.
Grandma continued, "Oh it really hurt Weldie. His little legs were so torn up. I was lucky that I heard him scream when it got him."
"What did you do?" said a voice.
"Well I grabbed the biggest stick I could find. When I got to Weldie I had to hold on to him and try to pull him away from those chomping teeth and beat it on its heads as hard as I could! But as soon as one head would stop biting his legs then the other one would start! Oh, he screamed and screamed and I was crying. It even bit me a few times. Uff-da! I don't wana talk about it anymore."
"Yup, that's why we never went by the river or the lake when we were little. Does the hougarhide still live there?" aunt Barb asked.
Grandma replied, "Oh I think Norman saw one of its dens not long ago. See, they have to make their dens deeper in the woods because the river floods. Once a it finds a good spot it digs a den then it tears up all the little trees and rips up the ground so everything in front of its den is wrecked."
"Well, I just hope none of the kids get hurt by that thing. Do you think we should tell them about it or do you think they will listen well enough and keep away from where they aren't supposed to go?" aunt Violet asked.
"Oh I don't think we should scare them. They are good kids. They listen pretty well." grandma finished.
We were, all of us cousins, playing in the living room when we heard the conversation. You can just imagine the black hole of silence created by a group of cousins, frozen in place, straining to hear every word in the next room.
Our little minds were racing. Two heads? Hougar-what? Chewing on legs and feet and beating it with clubs? And what in the world could be so bad that it made grandma cry? Adults never cry unless there is a funeral. Did she think Uncle Weldie was gonna die? This was serious and we just had to learn more. The combination of fear and curiosity spurred by the conversation overcame us. All at once we broke free from the spell and for whatever our individual reasons, we had to be near an adult at that very moment. A gaggle of cousins poured into the dinning room where the women were enjoying their coffee.
Once we were located skin tight to our preferred adult a little voice broke the silence.
"Um, what's a Hool-gra, a Hoor-a-guide?"
"Oh no. You kids didn't hear that did you?" aunt Barb exclaimed in shock. Her change in posture and frightened look made each of us feel as if the damn thing was standing right behind us ready to pounce. The younger cousins clamped their eyes shut and buried their faces in a mother or aunt and the older ones, myself included, nearly jumped on the table. You couldn't fit a razor blade in the space between woman and child.
"I think we should tell them about it Joyce." Aunt Janet looked at my mother and continued. "They might as well learn about it so they don't get hurt."
"I'm not telling them. You tell them. If they can't stay away from the places they aren't supposed to go then they'll find out one way or another." my mom replied.
What in the name of all that was good a right was my mother talking about? This was the very same woman who won't let me ride my bike to the end of the driveway. Heck, I can't even take a rope into the woods because I might, "get hung up by your neck!" And now, this very same woman was willing to loose one or more of us to this two headed horror by attrition. My little mind reeled.
Over the next few moments and strategically placed pauses for sips of coffee, the aunts took turns explaining the hougarhide, its habits and terrifyingly vicious nature. Young cousins whimpered or covered their ears during the scariest parts and I noticed that even the oldest of us had now wrapped both arms securely around our preferred adult.
Those women were brilliant, wicked, and wise. I'm sure they fully enjoyed the hugs and unsolicited cuddles they were getting. Plus the rapt attention and quiet must have been a great bonus.
In time, the conversation turned to things only adults cared about and we began to relax. By then, we started climbing off laps and releasing our death grips and drifted back into various parts of the house. Slowly, the afternoon returned to normal. We chased each other, hid in closets, tried to sneak into the basement or got caught fiddling with the wood stove. It was at that point that we heard the dreaded words, "All right! You kids better get outside right now or there is going to be trouble."
I think I would have preferred an arrow in the knee at that moment. How in the heck did these women expect us to go outside when clearly there was an actual monster at large? What is more, Minnesota is the "Land of Ten Thousand Lakes" and that doesn't include rivers. I was old enough to do some simple math and it occurred to me as I stood wiping ashes from the wood stove onto my pants that the entire state was likely crawling with hougarhide's! Everywhere we looked, everywhere we drove, there was a lake or river or swamp or other equally dangerous location. But the women didn't care. One by one we were reluctantly shooed out the door.
Once in the yard the door thumped shut behind us. I turned and looked for my brother. I didn't have to look far, he was holding my hand. "Mark, we better play in the driveway cause its prolly safer then by the woods." I said.
Mark didn't respond but plopped himself down in the grass by the front door. The rest of us followed suit. And from that day on we were the most cautious children north of the equator.
In time, some of us grew up and had nervous episodes each time we got near water but for the most part, we went on to become healthy adults with our own families. And you can bet, that with each new batch of kids, comes another retelling of the story of the hougarhide.
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