I don't really know what I am musing on these days. It's more like an irregular stream of consciousness thing...it seems to be working.


December 2008
November 2008
October 2008
September 2008
August 2008
July 2008
June 2008
May 2008
April 2008
March 2008
February 2008
January 2008
December 2007
November 2007
October 2007
September 2007
August 2007
July 2007
June 2007
May 2007
April 2007
March 2007
February 2007
January 2007
December 2006
November 2006
October 2006
September 2006
August 2006
July 2006
June 2006
May 2006
April 2006
March 2006
February 2006
January 2006
December 2005
November 2005
October 2005
September 2005
August 2005
July 2005
June 2005
May 2005
April 2005
March 2005
February 2005
January 2005
December 2004
October 2004
September 2004
August 2004
July 2004
June 2004
May 2004
April 2004
March 2004
February 2004
January 2004
December 2003
November 2003
September 2003
August 2003
July 2003
June 2003
May 2003
April 2003
March 2003
February 2003
January 2003
December 2002
November 2002
October 2002
September 2002
August 2002
July 2002

-- HOME --

-- RSS 1.0 --

Powered by Movable Type
« Surreal Like Dali With a Side of Absinthe | Main | Fell Off the Grid There »

w November 18, 2008

Here Kitty, Kitty, Kitty

It will come as no surprise to anyone, I'm sure, that I am a city girl, born, and mostly bred (we'll ignore the early years in west Texan deserts and western North Carolina mountains. Speak of this to no one). I appreciate nature, but I appreciate it most from behind a healthy amount of viewing glass, not least because it all makes me sneeze mightily, but also because, frankly, I respect that a lot of the fauna has...big teeth. We don't live in a city right now, and while we don't exactly live out in the country, we *are* up in the hills of San Mateo County, and quite close to Edgewood Park, which is a smallish but nice county park. With...fauna. As in big teeth fauna. As discovered anew last night at about midnight when Gene was out walking the dogs around the corner from our house and came face to face with a mountain lion.

A MOUNTAIN. LION. Lion, from the mountain. Cougar. Puma. Whatever the hell you want to call it, it had big teeth.

Being the country boy that he is, he just stood his ground and the cat kept on its delicious venison hunting mission (BEHIND OUR HOUSE), and didn't even blink at the tasty and available medium sized dogs on pull strings (who, incidentally, apparently didn't even notice the big honking predator in their midst. Useless fleabags).

He called the sheriff, who gave him Fish & Game's number, where there is...nothing for reporting these things. You can report poaching, apparently, but not, say, semi-urban sightings. Huh.

I freely admit this whole experience rattled me a bit, even though I rationally know that there are enough deer and house cats and squirrels around here to keep even the hungriest mountain lion satiated, but oh, for a nice rabid city raccoon or a filthy pigeon. Sigh.

by at November 18, 2008 7:20 AM | TrackBack Comments
Post a comment

Email Address:



Remember info?