Golf on the Gulf!

  While I do not even know how to play golf, I have a lovely collection of the balls.  Those white spheres with the little dimples are just so darn cute that I cannot help myself.  I gather them like Easter Eggs and display them in canisters about the Little Bayou House.  Not really.  I do not collect golf balls any more than I do basketballs but gathering them is something that I do occasionally.  I find them hidden about the yard and do not wish to shoot them out the side of my lawnmower when I am doing yardwork.  So, I gather....I do not collect.  There is a difference.  AND no canisters are involved but the balls are stored in a cardboard box until I find just what to do with them.

  Golf on the Gulf is probably not a real tournament nor should I be calling this Golf on the "Gulf".  Golf on the Bayou just did not have a catchy ring to it.  The golfing part is true...the balls are real but the tournament is part of my imagination.  You see, my neighbor across the Bayou obviously does golf and obviously does have a pretty nice swing. His yard is directly across the Bayou and without a doubt he practices his swing by hitting the balls my way.  This is all fine and dandy for the ones that reach all the way across the marsh but I can only imagine how many thousands of balls are dotting the marshes of the Bayou.  Mr. Neighbor-Across-the-Bayou practices a lot.

  While this is all sort of humorous when I am out picking up the balls, it could possibly be rather devastating for the critters.  Imagine all of the critters that may think that pretty white ball is an egg and looks a lot like supper.  Just how many golf balls can a gator or turtle eat before something goes amiss in their gut?  Then I ponder if the golf balls are mounding up in some weird mountain or if they are sinking beneath mud and filling in the waterways?  Shouldn't this be considered littering?  Or am I just being the curmudgeon who lives on the other side of the Bayou?  Still, I gather what balls I can retrieve and toss them in the box with the dozens of others.  Perhaps some day, I will venture over and try to sell Mr. Neighbor-Across-the-Bayou a lovely bunch of sparkling white golf balls so he can practice some more!