Took a walk through the piney woods last week and a couple from Connecticut asked me how to get to the Seven Pillars. Turns out I was going there anyway, to get the dogs in some moving water. Which was good news for them, because they absolutely would not have found it, even instructed.
The Seven Pillars is a lovely dolomite formation in a cliff about thirty feet high, remnants of the Tethys River. On the facing side of the river the Miami have a campground, but there is access.
As we five were walking to the river, a frog jumped. The guy jumped about as far in the opposite direction, and I was, of course, six decades past getting to the frog. Good for it.
Driving home Sunday there was a turtle in the road just outside town.
I stopped and picked up the most bellicose, belligerent painted turtle ever.
She was on the large side of the species, which gave her clawed flippers full access to 100% of my hand and wrist. I turned her over and rubbed her belly, which really pissed her off. I put her in the truck bed, and she went crashing back into the tailgate.
Okay, she had traversed about two acres of lawn, and was about two feet onto a goddam hot asphalt road, when I interrupted her apparent bliss. On the other side of the road was at least another acre of lawn. There was no water, no shade, anywhere.
Excuse me.
I took her to a reasonably healthy pond, endured another vicious attack, and eased her into the water.
She dove, blew some bubbles, surfaced, threw me a flipper, and dove again. I left in some haste.
No good deed goes unpunished.
It is noted such behavior is a typical fear response, but every other painted turtle I have handled (not a lot, mind) has resigned itself and drawn up. Not this hellion.
I came staggering out of the pine furnace today, onto the closed road where I saw the bumblebee walking home (one of the amazing things I ever saw, armed with the knowledge why he was walking), and a 2 1/2 foot garter snake essed across the road so swiftly that recognition trumped reaction. And he was gone.
But he did remind me...
When I was in tenth grade, I usually cut through a meadow of sorts walking to school, and in spring there was often a garter snake available. Most were of a size to fit comfortably in a shirt pocket, and several went along for some quality Elwood Schools education.
Whether by chance or design, some became active during Latin class, with very gratifying results. The teacher, who was previously famous for dealing with balky or itchy bra straps, did not appreciate reptiles. Once the snake stirred, stuck his head out of my pocket, and began sampling the ambient air with that famous forked tongue, she would slam a chair into the furthest corner, mount it, and howl until the snake left the room.
It was pretty much a lock that no amount of study was gonna get me a grade. Also evident that I was gonna pass, because I sure wasn't coming back.
Would have been a great plan, except I didn't care at all.
We went to the Seven Pillars again in today's heat. On the road was another frog. I'd like to tell you what kind of frog it was, but Google has totally fucked up the Image Search, and I couldn't even find me.
Anyway, I backed up, pulled over, and the frog sat. I got out and up to him, and, as I reached, he leaped about sixty feet.
Okay, it was less than six, but come see, come saw. Much too far for a dick-wit with a body atrophied to dry cereal.
Cool frog though. Shit, at least I saw him.
I had planned this evening for days. It was hot, hotter than most, and I took the dogs to a closed stone quarry for a little dip. Me too. Except storms were coming in quick, scaring much hell out of Abbe. We all got down to the water eventually and I pushed out into the lake. My puppy stood with the water tickling his underneath and yelped, Abbe swam out to me a couple times, and we got resoaked with a driving cold rain getting back to the car.
Do I know how to have fun, or what?
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