The Mouse that Soared

Riddle me this, riddle me that, who's afraid of the big, black bat?

I've realized living in the country, in a rehabbed farm house, you are not hermetically sealed and occasionally the space(s) you think of as your own is (are) not. Bugs get inside; sometimes mice; once a snake crawled up alongside the plumbing into the bathroom--these things happen. And they're temporarily freaky and I handle it and I feel itchy and skittish for a couple of weeks; I am at the very least very very cautious when I open drawers and cabinet doors.

But nothing really had me prepared for last night.

It had been a lovely lazy day and since I'd been grilling on the back porch that afternoon, I just left the door open. The cat appreciates it and doesn't need to yowl so much to let me know it's time to come in or go out (and anything that stops him from yowling is A-OK by me.) It's also been delightfully cool and keeping the door opens seems to help fight the mid-day heat. It's an odd feature of the house...once it gets cool or hot it holds it in really well.

So I'm at the computer last night, chatting with Brian online and surfing the web. I heard something thunk the one leg of my computer desk. I assumed it was the cat coming in for the night--it was about 10:00, I was ready for bed. I snapped my fingers for the cat, no cat. I did the kissy noise/tongue click thing that he responds to (no "here kitty kitty kitty" for me), no cat. So I turn the light on. No cat. But I see the shadow of something fly past.

First I think--o maybe it's a bird. Then when I realize that it's not flying into windows or making noise I know what it is and it becomes "holy shit, mother of fuck, it's a bat." I cuss some more (mainly about getting rid of my tennis racket a few years ago) and try to figure out how the shit I'm going to get this damned bat out of the house. I'm also thinking: rabies, plague fleas, that scene in Cujo where the future-meth-faced Danny Pintauro is dehydrated in that Pinto and trying to remember if they drink piss from a thermos in the movie like they do in the book. I open the front door and try to chase the bat out that way. No soap.

It flies upstairs. I figure this gives me time to come up with something to swat and shoo the bat away with. I arm myself: a ceiling tile left over from a repair job, my largest aquarium net, and a fly swatter. I get the banking chittering hideous thing back downstairs amidst much ducking flinching and profanity. It's at this point the cat comes in to watch. I think, great. He'll track it and try to catch it. Nope. He runs. Eventually, I get de fledermaus into the laundry room and shut the door. It's trapped and I'm trapped with it. I just start swinging at it wildly trying to exhaust it and hoping that just maybe I can hit it hard enough to stun it.

Ultimately, the bat became exhausted and lit on the floor where it began chittering and hissing at me. I realized that this thing looks less like a mouse with wings than it does a hamster--and it reminded me of a singularly unpleasant russian dwarf that a friend of mine owned. It is approximately the size of a young adult hamster and the fur looked suspiciously similar. It was larger than any brown bat I've seen around here. I got my aquarium net over it and it's fighting to get out, flipping itself around, pissing all over the floor. (I never knew bats peed as a defense mechanism and frankly I never wanted to know. Also--bat piss smells just as bad as you might imagine.)

I got it outside and slammed the doors and proceeded to scratch and tremble for the next hour. I got back online and filled Brian in, googling for info on bats in west virginia and discovered that it was a Red Bat. Funnily enough, according to this PDF I found, "Red Bats rarely come into human habitations."

Enervation

It is unseasonably hot and humid here. It's not usually this muggy and stifling until mid-July or August. Everything else I've wanted to do with the gardening at home and the beds at work has gone by the wayside. The main thing now is just keeping it all watered. The tomatoes, those contrary things, love it.

~*~

I'm a bad sleeper even under the best conditions and this old farmhouse just sucks in heat and holds onto it, making getting deeply asleep impossible. The heat's also irritated Fletcher who's taken to running about and yowling to be let out each night, usually about half an hour after I'm asleep. Shorter version: everyone here is cranky.

~*~

We choreographed the big dance number I'm in last night. It went well enough--even in the heels. After 3 hours though, I was ready to go home and ceased being such a cooperative camper.

In related news, the original director for the show quit last week. Things seem to be going better without him.

~*~

Brian's going to see Kathy Griffin tonight at a theatre down the street from his apartment. I'm frankly jealous and wish I could go, but my rehearsal schedule won't allow it. I'll be heading east to see him Saturday, though and staying until July 5th. I'm ready to go now.

~*~

Big Ups to C Dale and Jacob. I got the Amazon gift certificate and finally figured out what to order. I'm looking forward to even more book shopping while I'm out of town. There's so much I want to get my hands on right now it's not funny.

~*~

I bought a hula hoop today. Sad that what one could do easily at 10 is nearly impossible now.

Drive By Shooing

The hotel and restaurant property where I landscape has two built in planters that are each of the building's side entrances. One is pretty shady so it's planted with several white-margined hosta, the other planter is in full sun and is filled with a variety of annuals.

The other morning I get there, about to water and I notice a rather large clump of petunias had been uprooted. I assumed it had been done by a drunk patron, cursed my fellow men and went on about my morning. I show up the next morning, same thing.

It turns out that this has been done not by drunk patrons, but a female mallard, who's chosing to nest in the planter. She was there this morning when I arrived, displacing herself as I approached, abandoning her egg.

I also found a discarded Sierra Mist can that had been McGyvered into a smoking apparatus. It brought back memories of college.

Grab Bag

Sadly, the waste of space neighbors have transferred the miraculous escape cows to new quarters. I'm sure they'll work their magic in that enclosure as well; those instances just won't be as likely to interfere with my life.

~*~

I'll be doing a short reading at a joint here on Tuesday night at 9:00ish. I'm working out a list of pieces now. I've not read publicly for a couple of years. Should be fun once I get over the nerves.

~*~

I was mistaken in an earlier post. Only one poem's found a home so far.

~*~

Too hot to do much of anything.

West Virginny Chainsaw Masacre

Thursday night's read-through was...um...well...let's go with an anagram shall we?...SERF CUT LUCK.

Although scheduled to begin at 6:00, key people (like ooooh, the director and two of the leads) weren't there until after 7:30 (one didn't show at all.) Tons and tons of bloviating just so people can hear themselves speak. No cast lists to help identify who's who (minor quibble maybe, but it would've made the reading much simpler if we could've known who we had on hand and who we needed to fill in for when their lines came up). Honestly...I'm set for a full on screaming diva blowup if this sort of thing continues...and since it's been par for the course so far...I see no reason to believe it won't.

~*~

The tomatoes are growing marvelously so far, a few early blooms popping up here and there. Trying to get caught up this weekend on my own weeding and trimming--so much to do that I honestly don't know where to start. The rains have sent everything into overdrive. My acidanthera and tigridia bulbs are growing madly and I love them for cut flowers. The seedlings are thriving but I've now lost my little planting plot to the bed so I don't know what's what...I'm pretty sure there are some weeds creeping in there but for now I'll leave them be--just until I know exactly what I'm dealing with. I'm thinking of hitting the nursery this week and grabbing 4 or 5 things to fill in there just in case I'm looking at more weeds than flowers.

I have all the stuff I need for the decoy garden--straw to mulch, kale seed, turnip seed and rutabaga seed. (FYI--you can fit one bale of commercially prepared straw into the hatchback of a Ford Focus ZX3.) As soon as it's dried off I'll go out and cut the grass down to the ground, rake it up and broadcast. It's going in near the edge of the meadow as far away from the tomatoes and herbs as I can get it. This seems a good plan--yesterday afternoon I saw a young buck grazing in the meadow about 20 yards from where I plan to plant. If I can keep them drawn to that part of the property it's all to the good. I might check into putting a salt lick out there just to make sure they're attracted.

~*~

I learned to operate a chainsaw this morning. Frightening. A friend asked me to do some trimming and maintenance on shrubs and things near her house next week. She also wants a large (and invasive) rose of sharon removed. I found someone willing to loan me the 'saw and teach me how to use it. All I kept thinking was--don't cut off your leg. I'm not sure if I can muster the testicular fortitude to carry through with this. I'm pretty confident that if you haven't used a chainsaw by the time you turn 30, you probably never should.

Stampede

So the waste of space neighbors had another (multiple) cow break out this morning. As I was trying to drive to work. There they were: three surly calves traipsing along the road. I slowed to a crawl and thought I would be able to squeak by them. As if.

They began running ahead of me, veering back and forth. One brown bastard turned and was about to charge my car. The only thing I thought was no...wait til it's paid off...sweet jesus.

Finally one of the ridiculous slope headed people who works for the wos neighbors comes running and herds the calves back into their enclosure. You see, the calves can walk BETWEEN the strands of barbed wire. Very effective.

This has been the third escape since May. I only learned about the second one a day ago. That escapee wrecked another neighbor's yard and mock oranges--totally snapped them off and tromped things down. Was there an apology? An offer to replace or pay for the damaged plants? What do you think?

Sadly, all my efforts to google "fat man with a mullet in a camel light tee shirt and feed cap" or any of its permutations turned up nothing. I really wish I could've snapped some photos of this prize in action. I bet some of you singles out there would have begged for his contact info. He was poetry in motion. It actually made the whole ludicrous experience worth it. Of course it would've been better if he'd gotten kicked or fallen in a fresh cow flop, but ya can't have everything.

Spotlight

The daylilies are going nuts. There's going to be a profusion of blooms this summer judging by the buds they've shot up. A couple of weeks ago I was talking to a friend about them and she said "They're really almost vulgar when they're happy." Indeed--and I'm fine with that.

I might've mocked the name, but Bug-Geta is effective. (Note to Pamela: I've tried the beer approach in the past with no success--my dog Bella also likes beer, it seems. BTW--regarding roses...have you ever tried spent teabags broken up and scattered around? They're also good for other acid loving plants--ferns especially--but I've seen good results with a few of the old fashioned roses I got from my grandmother's place.)

Some of the tomatoes are blooming. I'm going to sow some turnip and kale seed this weekend on the far side of the property as a decoy garden for deer. It's near the fruit trees (which I never harvest b/c generally the fruit's mealy and hard) and they feed out there through the summer anyway. I'm curious to see how well this tactic works. A few online organic gardening places swear by it as do a few of my friends.

I've been strafed twice today by hummingbirds while working in the yard. This happened last week as well when I was working in the same spot. Curious.

~*~

Auditions went well last night . I did my thing and it's now out of my hands. I should know the casting decision tonight. There were a lot of good people and a fair amount of silliness and hamming around in the down times.

~*~

The "long poem" is cooking along. Four sections are done...or nearly so...but of course by done I mean "worked to a point that I'm not embarrassed by them". The process feels good...no clue what's really happening here...just writing and cutting and playing...feeling my way through the dark.

Off with Their Heads!!

Totally forgot to mention this yesterday. Halfway to work there is an abandoned business just beside the highway. It's been many things over the years: laundromat; convenience store; car lot, and probably a couple of other things I've forgotten. I'm driving to work yesterday morning, talking on the cell to Brian. As I get closer to the business I notice a guy standing in the parking lot, a few feet behind a battered and bondoed sedan. He appeared to be administering a field sobriety test to himself--walking along the seams in the concrete, trying to maintain a straight line, arms held out straight from his sides.

I feel it's important to note he was wearing a white button down shirt and black shorts with a white hibiscus pattern, he also had socks pulled halfway up his calves.

~*~

People are offering to buy tomatoes from me. I find this sort of crazy when there's a great farmer's market here.

~*~

Went out to work in the yard this afternoon and found another 3 foot long snake, crossing the patch. No clue what sort. Definitely not a black snake, although it is (errr was) a blackish-brownish color with a subtle diamond pattern. I fetched the machete and played Red Queen with it. Apparently there are a lot of snakes this summer...huzzah. I found myself wishing my grandfather was still alive--he'd have known what it was. I just hope I don't run across a copperhead. Oy god. I'll scream like a girl. Might even tinkle a little.

Bienvenue à la Maison des Morts

Like a Peckinpah film or one of Shakespeare's tragedies, the body count keeps rising here. Avalanche paraded around the house with a mouse he caught last night until I managed to get him scooted outside. Today he tried to tangle with a huge snake sunning itself near the meadow (it was a little over three feet long)--I ended up whacking it with the machete because neither one of them was backing down. I shudder to think what else he's going to find in the next few months. I have to give him credit--he's not afraid to tangle with something significantly bigger than he is.

~*~

Last week's rains put a damper on some of the festivities but the plants are loving it. I'm going to be spending a lot of time the next few weeks dividing hostas, ferns and lungwort to transplant.

I'm not sure when this landscaping project is ever going to be done. So much to clear out and kill that I think I'm never going to be on top of it all, much less ahead.

~*~

An entree to the long poem I've been working on has presented itself--not sure if it'll carry through all the revisions, but it's given me a way to proceed.

What Would Eva Do?

Sunday, when we were driving back to Buckhannon, I avoided a squirrel in the road. It was hunkering and darting beside another squirrel who had not been so lucky as to avoid a car. Actually it was pretty flat--it had not avoided a lot of cars. I had to avoid the skittish, befuddled, living one. I'm not one of those people who stops and helps box turtles across the road or who'll run into the ditch to avoid a bunny; but if weather conditions allow, I'll try to veer away or brake enough to avoid killing something.

I sometimes think we're like the couple in Green Acres--he's Eva Gabor, I'm Eddie Albert. I'm pretty adaptable. I like the options of cities: the venues, the anonymity, the restaurants, the shopping. At the same time I really love the space and quiet I have here. Sometimes it's grating, but overall it's a fair trade. We drove past people I knew and without thinking I'd point them out, oddly happy seeing them out running errands or whatever on a Sunday. Unlike Eddie A, I'd never ask Brian to relocate to an area like this--it'd drive him mad, I fear. But one of the things I'm gladdest for about this visit was that he got to be with me and some of my favorite people and see that part of my life.

~*~

Last night before bed I heard a thumping and clanking on the front porch. I knew it wasn't my critters, because they were all inside, bedded down and sleeping. I went to the door and turned on the light and there, rattling about the kibble and water bowls (during the late spring and summer I leave a few bowls out for the cats and dogs, because they're outside as much they're in) was a sizeable possum. It lurched off the porch and ran its odd jerky run off through the ferns toward the meadows. Hideous little beasts. I'll start bringing the kibble in at night because I don't want repeat visits.

Every time I see a possum I think of Gerald Stern's "Behaving Like a Jew" from Lucky Life.

Behaving Like A Jew

When I got there the dead opossum looked like
an enormous baby sleeping on the road.
It took me only a few seconds – just
seeing him there – with the hole in his back
and the wind blowing through his hair
to get back again into my animal sorrow.
I am sick of the country, the bloodstained
bumpers, the stiff hairs sticking out of the grilles,
the slimy highways, the heavy birds
refusing to move;
I am sick of the spirit of Lindbergh over everything,
that joy in death, that philosophical
understanding of carnage, that
concentration on the species.
--- I am going to be unappeased at the opossum’s death.
I am going to behave like a Jew
and touch his face, and stare into his eyes,
and pull him off the road.
I am not going to stand in a wet ditch

with the Toyotas and the Chevies passing over me
at sixty miles an hour
and praise the beauty and the balance
and lose myself in the immortal lifestream
when my hands are still a little shaky
from his stiffness and his bulk
and my eyes are still weak and misty
from his round belly and his curved fingers
and his black whiskers and his little dancing feet.