Critter Encounters

One of the greatest things about life (my life… your life is none of my business) is that I chose to live in the hinterland. YMMV but I love it. I’m hundreds of miles from the nearest major bullshit centers and have a decent buffer from even the minor bullshit centers.

Distance gives perspective. Perspective gives peace. Without peace (inner and hopefully external as well), all is chaos; instability that’s prone to madness. Notice, the nexus of insanity. People freaking out in 2020 and 2021 aren’t based in Amish farms and quiet fishing villages… it’s coming from people crammed together with a smartphone pasted over one eye and the other nervously watching distortions on the artificial fishbowl that surrounds them. They’re slowly eating each other’s brains.

Meanwhile, I’ve got nature. I love me some nature!

Lacking light pollution, my night sky is a wonder to behold. Last year I finally wired a switch into my pole light. Awesome move! On a clear moonless night I can flip that switch and witness a sky that bursts forth with the glory of creation. Try that from your Miami condo.

Sometimes, if I’ve got visitors that haven’t seen such things, I’ll invite them to try it. If it’s moonless and clear it’s a sky like they’ve never seen. If’ it’s cloudy and moonless they experience darkness the likes of which they’ve never imagined.

What’s the market value of a gorgeous night sky? I’ve no idea. Priceless doesn’t mean worthless. Also, it’s a reminder how much the electric light revolution rearranged the world of homo sapiens and set them on edge.

Another of my favorite things is the season of the monarchs. A few years back I was reminiscing about how I wanted to have a caterpillar in a jar as a kid. I wanted to watch it become a butterfly. It never happened.

In 2018, like a dope slap from reality, a blog reminded me that the dream could still happen. I was a grown ass man and if I wanted to stick a bug in a jar it was nobody’s business but mine. I’d simply forgotten I could do such a thing. So I did.

I relived (for the first time) a fun thing my eight year old self coveted. One of the smartest things I’ve ever done.

It made me feel like a kid again! Simple pleasures eh? Here’s a photo from 2018.

I did the same thing in 2020. Here’s a photo from of a butterfly’s birth. (Sorry that it’s blurry, I only had one hand free.) It was taken in the middle of a world shitting itself in panic over a 99.95% survivable illness while self-inflicting “peaceful protests” spread arson and murder. Yet, that was a moment of peace. We could all die tomorrow and the butterfly would never know. Society would benefit from a bit more humility.

In 2019 I must have forgot? Meh, it’s a thing I do… not a job.

Anyway, I’ve been on the prowl for this year’s monarch caterpillar. A harmless and free enterprise but you do have to spend a bit of time looking. Oddly, there are fewer milkweed than usual this year. Before y’all freak out about Roundup or GMO corn or (Lord help us we’ve been trained to do it) global warming; just chill. All things ebb and flow, and that includes milkweed.

Here are a few relevant links.

2018: Phenology Report: Monarchs: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.

2020: The Cycle Of Life Births A Monarch.

It’s not all starshine and butterflies though. Nature periodically gets up in my grill and offers a throwdown. Shit happens. You need to handle it right quick or you don’t belong here. Soyboys need not apply.

I was heading for the chicken coop when I damn near stepped on a skunk. I approached with the wind in my favor and got closer that I’d like! The critter seemed a little out of synch with the season. I’d expect ones born this season to be small and kittenish. This one seemed only a little less than adult sized but it was still clueless and stupid… a teenager of the species? It must have been born just as the snow melted.

I beat a hasty retreat, returned with my boomstick, and nailed it so hard there was a divot where the little bugger formerly stood. Skunks, like any terrorists, are best killed hard. They’re less likely to spray their god-awful stink all over if you eliminate the situation fast. I’ve had good luck with a .22 but better with a 20 gauge. An ounce of lead shot at 1,400 FPS through he skull is a sweet spot. First goal was to keep the chickens safe but the second was an instantly dead skunk (you don’t want it thrashing about both suffering and dispensing stink). Shortly after that I went canoeing and tragically lost my shotgun in a lake. Whoops.

Back to the practical side of things, take my word on this; when you want to kill a skunk don’t dick around. Either place the bullet perfectly or nuke it from orbit… ideally both.

I’d prefer my evenings without hastily going to DEFCON IV to slay a furry terrorist. So that kinda’ sucked. Also, it was sunset but still blistering hot and very humid. Humidity seems to let the stink hold on longer. Rather than getting my jeans and body in the area I just backed off, left the mess there, and will try an experiment in letting things ride overnight. Is that a good solution or will it rot and get vastly worse? Who knows? Life is filled with experiments.

Update: If I raise it, it gets a name. The first butterfly was Sebastian. The second was Colin. Any suggestions for the 2021 butterfly (assuming I find a caterpillar)?