Monday, November 30, 2009

the pine jungle

The world has gone to the dogs, that'd be Gideon, Etta and "the pincushion" formerly known as Gracie. Each and every waking moment seems to tend to their needs, I have to keep them tied up, walk them and find some material, possibly not of this earth- that Gideon can't chew through. She even dismantles chains. These dogs came from a farm on a dead end road with acres upon acres to roam free, to dig up possums and chase coons, to wander aimlessly at will. But Maine changed their outlook, their free wheeling ways, their tender puppy naivete...

On a bad day, Maine is pretty. On a good day, Maine is beautiful. On a beautiful day, Maine is mind bending. On a day like Saturday- Maine is Maine, not to be taken for granted; ask the kayaker who started out on a mirror calm lake trip when suddenly, the weather changed and white caps flapped and flipped the little vessel, leaving the kayaker to tend with a Nor Easter... (Or as I like to call them: Nor east, nor west, nor south, nor north-STAY PUT!)

Or ask the motorist powering down Highway 9- lakes abundant, pine trees proudly standing thick amongst the moss covered loam or staunchly straddling ravines and rocky edges, the smell is of a pristine quality, the sights a most nourishing eye candy when suddenly, out of no where comes a beast who takes up half the road just by simply stepping from the timber to black top, in one single stride. Twisted metal and steel, broken glass and bones lay in a heap as the Moose glides as if a ghost, back into the pine jungle- while the motorist tries to piece together how a locomotive simply ran him over, out of no where it came with no warning, no cross road alarms, nothing to prepare him for the derailment.

Ask the new greenhorn, the farmer- the adventurer who throws caution to the wind, laughs at danger and spits in the eye of certain border crossers who are about thee most rudest, inconsiderate beings I have ever had to share the atmosphere with. Yes, just ask me about futile situations- why I can outrun the best, out jump the rest and crawl like a centipede when necessary by golly. But throw a porcupine in there, a walking-garbage-extracting-pin-cushion-pig and my friends, you can call me whipped. Porcupines are the original terminators, demolition devils, rooting sapsuckers and fortified with quills of mass destruction. How the heck you gonna make friendly with something like that?!

You don't. You quiet yourself and your pet while in their vicinity, which by the way- is anywhere they choose to be. And did you know they climb trees?! UH_HUH!! And did you know that ignorant labs such as Gracie can also climb trees?! ME EITHER!!!! Guess what happens when a porcupine and a pup like Gracie share the same branch? A whole lot of piercing going on....

Yep, Miss Grace has become an acupuncturists dream- why! she's got piercings fiercer than any punk rebel could ever even dream of! Nose ring? Please....Lip pierced?'re wasting my time! Nipple posts? Now you're just making me sleepy... Miss Grace's got piercings where no quill should ever go. Heck, she even swallowed a few...'cept for the ones that caught in her throat, stuck out of her tongue and gums and caused her mouth to be propped open on the 3 hour drive to the emergency clinic for such wayward, unanticipated porcupine/dog encounters.

Fun, fun, fun here in utmost respect, dear Maine. Please, please, please I pray- let me see the Moose a half mile before I need to, and please I pray- lead my Kayak away from temptation and tidal waves, but mostly dear Maine, I plead...deliver me and mine a remote wireless fence that might in time, contain my "girls" and perhaps, if it's not too much to ask- give me the million dollar question answered-
How the heck do you repel a porcupine???

Never wanted to make a million dollars before(- if I did, I'd just have to find all kinds of wonderful ways to give it away), but perhaps if I put my noggin' to the grind stone and came up with a sure way to piss off the porcupine into oblivion, I do believe I might be living in that house on the hill at Pocomoonshine.

Take care out there!


Anonymous said...

Oh, poor Miss Gracie!!! I'm having flashbacks to Homeward Bound. I loved that movie and found myself watching it on Disney the other night! I admit it. I can't wait for some pictures of Beautiful Maine :)

Love, Rhi

troutbirder said...

OMG! What an initiation. I can verify for Baron that the invisible fence system has worked great, keeping him from wandering off our little acre. However, if the strange critters wandered on to his home turf... the fight is on.

Jayne said...

Yikes! Poor, poor Gracie. Methinks she will probably be a good bit fearful of another encounter like that, which is a repellent in and of itself.

truewonder said...

Sorry for the picture-less posts...working on all of that, midst boxes and porcupine quills- I have been snapping away, of course- just can't figure out how to transport here...Gracie's fine, but the doc says that one encounter usually does not suffice, takes many or the death of the one or other....comforting.

Lorrie said...

My heart breaks for Gracie! That sounds truly painful. Is she better by now, I hope?