By Mousie, Researcher of Miscellaneous Trivia
Good morning, afternoon or evening, wherever you are and whatever time you read this. I had to say all that because Grammy says etiquette is important and we want to greet people with the proper greeting whatever time of the day it is. It would be silly of me to say good morning when you are reading this at night, though it is morning somewhere in the world. So now I'm confused. Well, I'm covering all times of the day....just in case.
And so again I say, Good morning, afternoon or evening. Phew! Now we've got that over with I can move on to the important part of the blog. As you know Sweetie has been diving into boxes in our storage room looking for dirt on Grammy. Oops, I mean to say looking up other critters in Grammy's life. Well, she's still researching on those bunnies. They are elusive little hoppers.
While she was in there I joined her and found another box of stuff and boy do I have a few dooseys for you. Wait until you hear this! Grammy was a camper in her youth. Can you believe it? That old stick would sleep on the ground where bugs crawl! The same Grammy that freaked and almost had an apoplectic fit when a spider slipped down it's silky thread to tickle her neck and met it's sudden demise! That's not a mistake the poor spider will make twice. *giggles* Nope, that spider made it's last and maybe one and only mistake - coming near Grammy. Well, unless that stuff in the box is fiction Grammy was a camper.... and had some very interesting 'speriences.
There were many things Grammy loved to do while camping and a few she wasn't so keen on. She and her friend would go fishing at dawn, walk the trails to the top of the Canadian Shield for the views (and they were magnificent), swim in the lake, cook yummy meals, even bake cakes on her camper stove. At night they'd light a campfire and enjoy toasted marshmallows (not S'mores. No, she never really enjoyed those things), sit around chatting or listen quietly to the night sounds. The one thing she truly disliked though was fishing near the marsh at dusk when squadrons of mosquitos would come out, dive bomb past her ears and come in for a landing on arms, legs and ankles. But on with the fun stuff.
The first night they camped - and this was Grammy's first time camping in years - they set up the tents - kitchen and sleeping. Grammy (remember she wasn't a Grammy then, she was an almost 40s adult) made the evening meal. They sat down for a delicious dinner of pork chops, mashed potatoes and vegetables, followed by a dessert not-named. And of course, first thing you do after a meal, clean up. So, dishes done, garbage in the bag, kitchen tent tidied and Grammy set herself down before the campfire. Her friend was still messing about near the kitchen tent and dusk was settling in over the campgrounds. It was so peaceful listening to the fire crackling and the birds chirping and rustling in the trees as they settled in for the evening.
Suddenly, a skunk crossed the distant footpath, waddled up to the campfire, sauntered between Grammy's legs, under her chair and onward to the kitchen tent. It rummaged around the garbage, found the pork chop bones, gnawed them bare, rummaged around for whatever other goodies it could find, looked over at Grammy as if to say, that was meager pickings, do better next time and wandered off.
Now, suffice it to say, Grammy was a little shocked, somewhat surprised and definitely amused by this little stinker. BUT, she wasn't stupid. Grammy and her friend had learned a valuable lesson. When dinner is done, take the garbage to the designated lidded garbage site immediately. BUT that isn't the end of the tale. No siree. The next night, dinner done, garbage disposed of and sitting around the campfire their little visitor sauntered up, under and through again. He (or she)stopped at the kitchen tent, rifled around the cooler and paraphernalia looking for the leftovers, huffed and snuffled and snorted, looked over at Grammy, grumbled and snorted again, kicked up some dirt in disgust and wandered off never to be seen again.
Another time, up at the crack of dawn, fishing gear in tow, off they went to their little rowboat, rowed around the point and settled about 20 feet off-shore near the marsh. It was a beautiful morning, sun just coming up over the treetops, the lake smooth as glass except for the ripples around the boat as it bobbed in the water, a cool breeze blowing away the no-seeums and mosquitos. A little bit of heaven on earth.
Off in the marsh a loud smack broke the silence. Oh no, animals fighting? A tree falling? What was it? Then, just the smallest ripple appeared about 10 feet off the side of the boat....and as it got bigger, two eyes, flattened ears and a head surfaced. A beaver had come out to check on the intruders. This beaver, having warned his family, was doing a thorough check.... he swam around the boat two or three times, coming closer each time until he was within arms length of Grammy. Grammy rippled her fingers in the water but otherwise stayed still. Mr Beaver circled the boat once more, sniffed the air, submerged and was gone. Since there wasn't a second slap of the tail Grammy assumed they were deemed non-threatening to the beaver family. Later, Mr Beaver returned, this time pulling a birch branch, leaves attached past the rowboat and into the marsh where she assumed he had built his family's lodge.
Later that same morning, still sitting in the boat on the peaceful lake loons could be heard calling to each other. Soon, they too pulled up close to the boat, mom, and her half-grown off-spring, circled it, let out a mournful cry and swam off. Forget the fishing.... this was much more delightful.
That's all for today, friends. There's more to tell... like the tale of the Raccoon. the blackbirds and sparrows but... that's for another day.
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Five Cats, Five Personalities, One Goal - Mischief & Mayhem.