Yep, it is getting on to that time! Halloween is just around the corner and along with that comes the thoughts of eerie things. To some folks, living on a bayou is eerie enough simply because of the local denizens that reside here. Just the mere mention of gators or cottonmouth moccasins is enough to scare some people but, if you throw in a conversation about things screaming in the night or howling from the depths of bayou where it meets the creek, you can give many visitors a good case of the bejeebies. (I guess I am showing my age here as "spell-check" is yelling "You cannot use that! It is not a word!" Umm...I am old. I use old words.) Anyway, the mention of anything supernatural brings out the idea that the place is haunted and...well...I am a good part of that. I am good with the analogy as it is all in fun and those who think otherwise need to lighten up a bit.
The other morning, I peered out the screen door as Bat, the cat, wanted out. Ahh, there was to be a lovely sunrise and I should traipse myself to the pier was all that could run through the brain...so I did. The darkness settled around me as the sun had barely reddened the sky behind the pines on the other side of the Bayou. Carefully choosing my way as to not step on one of those aforementioned snakes, Bat and I headed our separate ways. He headed north while I headed south. Soon, I was to the plank that spans the short gap to the pier planking. This is there for high tide but makes a handy "bridge" over what could be a perfect spot for a cottonmouth to linger unseen. Stepping lightly on the planking, I eased my way to the end of the pier. A sole white shape could be partially seen through the darkness. If I had been one of those scary type folks, this may have made me stop in my tracks. (To be honest most of those folks would not have been traipsing out in the pitch black to start with but, hey!...this is me.) The "pier ghost" stood dead still. It did not make a move even though I edged closer. "Well, now! How are you my friend?" I murmured. I received no answer. I eased closer yet.
By the time I got to the end of the pier, the sky was a glorious array of reds and oranges. My "ghost" had been starting to become drenched in the same colors but decided now was time to make its great escape. Off to the back of the Bayou it flew on whispering wings but not without a double squawk! Goodbye, Ghost!
To me, it is funny how the gorgeousness of an egret is offset by such an atrocious call. The bird in itself is absolutely beautiful. Its white plumes seem out of place amid the mud that is so commonplace around bayous, its graceful, elegant stance appears to be far too fragile to battle the life it lives here but it is that squawk that is most incongruous with the elegance that the bird portrays. It just does not fit....in all fairness, though, it does fit quite well with a ghostly bayou critter!
