A shew (presumably) had come at me. In self defense, I’d stomped his ass. It’s a drag things came to that. Sorry little guy. You had spunk but size wasn’t on your side. And what’s with the aggressive behavior? You can’t charge down the path like a monster if there’s a full sized human nearby. (That said, how often is there a human on this trail in the pitch black? Maybe he’s been using this path for months?)
Back in the house Mrs. Curmudgeon asked what I’d been doing:
Me: “I was messing with thread designs, and I checked for northern lights…”
Her: “That’s nice…”
Me: “…and some mammal got pretty close to me. I’m not sure what it was. I stomped him.”
That got her attention.
Her: “What? Did you kick our cat?”
Me: “No! I know what a cat looks like. This was smaller, and had non-retractable claws. Smaller than a mink or a fisher or a martin. A shrew I think? But it wasn’t tiny like a mouse, it was maybe 6″-8″ long. It’s a puzzle.”
Her: “If it wasn’t our cat, was it the neighbor’s cat?”
Me: “I don’t prowl the forest looking for cats. I know it wasn’t a cat. I like cats.”
Her: “But you said it was an unidentified mammal…”
It’s best to settle such things before they become legend. Rather than start a “there are many mammals that are not cats” discussion, I grabbed a flashlight and went back out there. I found the critter and took a few photos. Back in the house I handed the phone to Mrs. Curmudgeon.
Me: “See? I’m not sure what that thing is exactly, but it sure as hell ain’t a cat.”
Her: “Uh huh…” She’d already drifted off. She probably dreamed I was terrorizing cats.
Note: I’ve since checked references, it wasn’t a shrew. It was a gopher. Not a critter I’m familiar with. In fact, what I think of as a gopher is really a thirteen-lined ground squirrel. So I guess I was wrong about them too. Possibly it was a Plains Pocket Gopher (Geomys bursarius). Or maybe it was something else? Cut me some slack, I like nature but I’m not a mammalogist (or a trapper).
Further reflection: As soon as I deduced it was (probably) a gopher I began to wonder if my assessment of his aggressive behavior was false. But no. It happened as I wrote it. I have 2026 disease. We all do. We’ve been lied to and gaslit about every damn thing for so long it’s easy to distrust everything; even your own lyin’ eyes. But I observed carefully. Gopher or not, the little bastard was cranking down that trail in Gangster Mode.
I woke up later that night. I had further thoughts to process.
I wound up sitting on the porch, having a beer with our barn cat (which was very much not stomped!). I was thinking about those stupid HYF plot lines. I’d presumed they’re just harmless servings of confirmation bias. But also maybe they fill a need Hollywood and mainstream books refuse to address?
We’re a species evolved as cunning persistence hunters. Now we’ve chained our ass into cubicles for HR meetings. The villainous character of Dolores Umbridge resonates because we meet her every day… and society is such that we just have to take it. We can’t just smack her silly.
Something has to give. People in coddled society are desperate to feel tough. It’s probably part of being human. That’s why we like stories about space aliens shitting their space britches over the inexplicable danger/cool which is humanity. There’s even a sub-genera called “humans are space orcs”.
This hairy chested brawniness is hosted by the ultimate milquetoast media; YouTube AI. All this so a dork eating Cheetos on a couch can imagine himself a space badass.
Methinks they doth protest too much.
Then again, did I not just do the actual thing? Didn’t I live their little plot? I wandered around in the middle of the dark night just like a badass who ain’t afraid of shit. When a thing I couldn’t identify charged me in the dark, I didn’t hesitate or run away. I didn’t make dramatic shrieking noises. “Eek a mouse!”
I kicked it dead. I did so wordlessly. I didn’t hesitate. It’s the kind of behavior featured in HFY stories. Admittedly I faced a dipshit gopher instead of a saber tooth space tiger; but is the story similar?
I don’t know how I feel about that. I didn’t hesitate and the critter was toast. So now I wonder if I’m even more removed from society than I already assumed. Also, is society healthy when spastic people publish videos of themselves crying during their morning commute?
The solution to wanting to be tough is to go do tough things. It’s not rocket science. But not everyone can be a dumbass like me who just walks around in nature encouraging dumb shit to happen. Then again why not? I was doing the cheapest thing there is, wandering. It costs nothing to walk without a flashlight. It’s free to leave your phone behind. Plus, random interesting challenges happen on their own. A month ago I fell off a tailgate so hard I thought I’d wrecked my whole summer.
I mock HFY yet wonder if it means something. I think they’re quite popular. Are those silly stories entertaining because of a need? Or because it’s truth? Do I think they’re dumb because I routinely encounter real critters in real life, and therefore get it out of my system?
Damn, who knows? The only thing I’m sure about is it’s good to have long warm dark nights and the time to ponder such things.
Having enjoyed my beer, and having pointed out five satellites in the sky to my cat, I went to bed. I slept like a baby.
A.C.
P.S. I went out the next day to clean it up before our dumbass dog finds and eats the carcass. Something had carried it off. I saw no tracks. There’s a lot of animals in my forest. Could be anything from a small owl (I hear owls hooting all the time) to (quite unlikely) a wolf. There’s even a bear hanging around lately. I’m going to pretend our barn cat ate it after our beer and one sided discussion. Whatever is cleaning up carcasses out there, I’m not going to overthink it. Lest I become one of those dudes who’s afraid to walk alone in the dark.