Not a Pond Friend or...Bat is My Hero!

   The last post was about a lovely watersnake that visited the Frog Pond.  I was sure in hopes to see the snake stay as I am rather fond of most snakes.  I had even called the critter a "friend".  Then...another visitor and something that may not have ended too well for me.  If it had not been for the intervening of another friend, I could have been quite ill right now. 

  Yesterday morning, I opened the back door to let the cat out for his morning prowl.  He usually bounds out and heads to the Frog Pond to investigate what changed overnight.  This time, it was different.  He leapt off the deck and froze.  He did not move a muscle but only listened.  He sensed something was not right.  Thinking that the bobcat may have been still nearby after his nightly patrol, I stayed on the deck sweeping the dead leaves that had fallen from the pear trees.  Bat, the cat, did not move.  

  Finally, I decided to walk around a bit to ease the cat's mind.  He went to the far side of the Frog Pond and I stayed on the path between the pond and the house.  I was barefooted so I was careful about how I stepped on the gravel path but obviously not too observant.  A tablesaw covered by a tarp was alongside of the path.  Son had not had time to put it back in the shed the night before but, little did I know, that something was lurking under that tarp.. Suddenly, Bat barreled across the yard and under that tarp.  A huge tussle was taking place just inches from my feet!  Just as I was about to lift the tarp thinking I had to rescue some hapless critter, a snake slithered from underneath.  Bat's attack was ruthless as he chased the 3ft+ snake toward the pond.  Several times, the snake turned to face the cat but Bat was too quick and would leap behind the snake.  As soon as the snake got into the open where the morning light was a bit brighter, I realized that this was a cottonmouth.  "BAT! COME!"  I yelled for my sweet cat!  He was having no part of listening as he focused on his attack.  The snake made a hasty retreat for the small concrete pond.  Bat darted underneath the house once he realized that he could no longer continue his attack.  My heart sunk as I fretted over Bat perhaps being bitten but I really had to figure out how to get the snake out of the pond.  (I have a sweet little niece coming to visit and I sure do not want a moccasin anywhere near, if I could help it.)

  Knowing that the pond holds a little over 600 gallons of water and was filled with water hyacinths and lilies, I was in a quandary.  Keeping watch on the snake lying atop some lilies, I eased around the back side to pull the hose from the fountain.  At least that would drain some of the water making the exit of the snake a bit harder.  Then with a 5 gallon bucket, I bailed...and bailed...and bailed all the while keeping an eye on that snake.  Ugh!  This is way too much work on an old lady!  Finally, I felt comfortable enough to rush inside and call to Son to get out of bed and come help get the critter! 

  As much as I hate killing any critter, this one sadly had to go.  Son pinned the snake to the bottom with a flat hoe and I flipped it into the 5 gallon bucket.  That done, the snake was "taken care of" and disposed.  That...was no pond friend.  Now, my attention could be turned to my heroic cat!  Where was Bat and had he received another snake bite.  He was bitten (dry bite) by a cottonmouth just about a year ago and was quite sick for a few days.  I called...and hunted.  Finally, Bat came.  He looked none the worse for wear and after a thorough examination, I found no bite marks.  I sighed with relief and hugged my protector.  Oh, Bat!  You are truly amazing!   What a hero!

The Comfort of Bat

   To start my day off on a happy note, my first moments of the day are often spent on the pier with a trusted friend.  In the past, these friends have been dogs.  Those faithful pups eagerly went on the predawn hikes with me and I felt quite safe with them.  Sadly, however, age had a way of catching up with them and they have left this world.  Now, I have a hiking cat.  While there has always been a cat about the place at any given time, none of the previous ones really liked to "hike".  Bat does.  He seems to have taken on the position as my "protector" and never lets me out of his sight for more than a few moments.  He brings a lot of comfort whether it be on the pier or in the garden.  This morning, I was happy to have him snuggling close to me.

  While it has never been an arguable point, my imagination does get the best of me at times, I suppose.  This morning as I sat and watched the sunrise, I noticed that Bat, the cat, was a bit tense.  He seemed to be on edge as the whisperings of the nighttime were starting to fade.  I did, too.  I could not put my finger on it but...it felt like I was being watched.  Needless to say, my predawn wanderings did not put me far from the Little Bayou House.  Instead of heading back into the "bowels of the Bayou", the Small Gardens were as far as we got.  Those felt safe.  Even after sunrise, Bat lounged on the lawn chair as I weeded the cabbages.

  Later, I reviewed the photographs of the (attempted) sunrise and was taken aback by a series of the images.  There, in the upper right center, seemed to be the entity that gave the feeling of angst.  Was this just me grasping at a way of explaining that uneasy feeling or was there actually something watching me from afar?  Nine of the eleven photographs had an eerie "skull" leering down at me!  Uh, oh!  Was this what Bat sensed?  Was this our creepy watcher?  Sometimes that imagination gets out of hand totally!  Hmmm?  I am sure glad Bat was hanging close.  Maybe we should spend a little more time in the Small Gardens for a few mornings.

Tangled Vines Are The Perfect Protection

  Again today, I worked in the yard.  There is so much to be done and, well, to paraphrase an old saying "If you want something done, you have to do it yourself."  (Notice that I left "right" out of the statement because I am not sure I am doing everything correctly but, at least, it is getting done.)  Today's chore was digging out the gravel drain that runs alongside of the house.  The torrential rains we get here wash huge ruts in the ground if something is not done.  We dug a trench, lined it with pond liner and filled it with gravel.  It worked great for years but, over time, it has become clogged with leaves and dirt.  The gravel all washed down into the center leaving a mound instead of a gully.  My job was to clear the debris and shovel out the gravel.  It had to be washed and put back in place.  I found out that an old lady has no business shoveling gravel all day!  Needless to say, I am sore tonight but happy that the job is completed.

  While out, I noticed a beautiful male cardinal on the grape arbor.  Since all of the other arbors have been removed, this was his only choice of a protected roosting spot.  The vines completely framed the bird.  I first noticed him when I filled the burn bin with garden trash, then, each time I went around to that side of the house, the bird was still there.  I pondered this fact...since shoveling does not take a lot of brain power.  Late in the afternoon, the bird was still on the arbor.  Hmmm...that bird is not waiting for the feeder to be filled (it already was), he was "on watch".  Could it be that his ladylove was already nesting?  It is far too early for little birds but with the weather as crazy as it is, anything is possible.  

  Just before heading back inside for the day, I eased my way to the arbor.  The bird scooted a bit further under the vines but stayed put.  Aha!  I know the telltale signs of a dutiful father and husband! Mr. Cardinal, you are the best!  Although I could not find Mrs. Cardinal, I feel she is quite near the arbor if not on it.  I did not want to appear to be too nosy so I let our beautiful friends enjoy the afternoon.  I did, however, notice the bald eagle fly over with several large sticks in his talons.  Spring is in the air...obviously!

The Air Show

  Last week, the air base across the Bay sponsored an amazing air show.   The Bayou is the perfect spot to watch these shows as the planes fly over the Bay giving us a clear view.  But..to be honest here, I did not watch the show.  I am so accustomed to seeing the planes over the Bay that one more day is not thrilling.  It is just noisy.  Very noisy.  Any other day, the planes do not kick in their "noise-makers" that stir the excitement like on the show days.  I gardened instead.  

  Today, however, I must admit that my favorite planes caught my attention.  These were not performing in some fancy air show but were practicing their maneuvers.  The planes are the renowned Hurricane Hunters.  In my opinion, these are some of the true heroes of the aviation world.  The pilots and planes do not seek attention but they do demand respect because of the tasks they perform.  It takes nerves of steel to fly a plane into the middle of a Category 5 hurricane to collect data.  The members of 53rd Air Reconnaissance Squadron are local heroes.  Those of us that live where hurricanes frequently make landfall depend upon the skills of these men and women to keep us abreast of the location, strength and movement of all tropical disturbances.  

  So, I watched the planes take off, fly overhead then land again all the while thinking of how much I appreciate the work performed by the Hurricane Hunters.  Yep, watching the practice maneuvers is my kind of air show!

He Wears This Look Well!

  Early this afternoon, something happened that brightened my day tremendously.  The old dog, Mr. PJ, has been feeling poorly for some time now and has done little more than nap.  His days were spent dozing in front of the french doors without much energy to do otherwise.  This was not good.  His physical self was going downhill rapidly as was his spunk. As Mom would have said "His get up and go has got up and went." Even though I tried to interest him in hikes, he always headed back to the house and his bed.  That all changed thanks to a total stranger.

  About 3pm, I heard a loud knocking on the french doors right next to where Mr. PJ was napping on his bed.  Then...then a ferocious barking came from the old dog.  He was standing in front of the glass doors with his hackles raised.  He was in full protective stance with his bulldog like shape being strong and sturdy!  Yep, Mr. PJ was protecting us from this stranger!  I put my hand on his back as reassurance and opened the door.  The man asked for my brother so I directed him to the west.  Mr. PJ stayed by my side.  His barking had ceased but his mere presence was enough to make the man back up a good fifteen feet behind the closed gate.  Mr. PJ had done his job well.

  Once I closed the door, I knelt down and gave the old dog a hug and praised him.  He needed that.  He needed to be needed.  He looked brighter and more alert.  He pranced about the room a bit which is something he has not done for months.  Later when we went out for his final walk of the day, he stayed by my side with ears up and nose working the air.  He had found his importance again.  He did not hurry back inside but instead took a nice long hike about the hillside.  This whole innocent ordeal had revived a sense of duty in the old dog.  It sure looks good on him.

The Watchful Eye

  It was such a gorgeous day here on the Bayou, that I had good intentions of taking the old dog, Mr. PJ, for a nice long hike far back into the woods.  There he could experience a whole new world of sights, sounds and scents.  That was the idea but it did not sit too well with the dog.  He decided about ten minutes was enough hiking and wanted to head back to the house.  He is definitely not a Bayou Dog like Ms. Ez was.  She would have just as soon stayed out in the woods with me forever!  The creek bed was her idea of a fine playground and exploring was right up her alley.  So, I walked back to the Little Bayou House and let PJ have his desired nap.  That did not stop me from enjoying this fine day, however, as I continued on my hike without the dog.

  After I was down near where the creek turns to a bog, I got the eerie notion that I was being watched.  The hair started raising on the nape of my neck causing me to know something was keeping a watchful eye on my progress.  Well, there was only one thing to do.  I plopped down on an old log and watched back.  I knew if I sat there long enough, whatever was watching me would get curious enough to show its face.  Slowly, I scanned the area.  The underbrush made it hard to distinguish what was a stump or a critter.  The recent cold snap led me to believe that I had no worries of a snake nearby so I proceeded to scan upwards.  Sure enough, in a dead Black Gum Tree, a pair of golden eyes stared down at me.  From just about twenty feet up, a lovely osprey watched my every move.  How special!

  While I watched the osprey, a happy thought came over me.  The bird was my protector in the absence of the dog.  Had anything threatening appeared, the osprey would have flushed from its perch.  This would have warned me of any critter's (or human's) presence.  These birds (like most critters of the Bayou) are accustomed to me roaming about the place and have little fear of me but others cause them to take flight.  I felt happy knowing that my bird friend was on duty!  My hike was continued and I felt all was right with the world.

Rest In Peace, Bayou Queen, Rest In Peace

  I can honestly say that most days spent here on the Bayou are good. While there is a lot of physical work to be done, emotionally....days are easy.  The serenity that surrounds you here is a Godsend.  That is not to say that things are always stress free.  Today proved to be one of those days that one could do without.  It was hard....too hard....emotionally.  Son and I had to do something that was breaking to us...albeit the right thing to do.

  For the past month, Ms. Put, the Bayou Queen, has suffered greatly. Her malady started with a bite from some unknown critter and escalated from there.  Five visits to the vet, countless doses of medicine and lots of prayers later, things just were not going her way.  A few days ago, she rallied enough to leave the entryway and meander around the house.  She chose to be near PJ, the dog we are fostering for our son and daughter-in-law.  Ms. Put's time spent with the dog seemed satisfying to her but she went downhill quickly from there.  Another visit to the vet this morning brought sad but inevitable news.  We knew it was going to come to this.  We had talked about it.  We were not ready for it.  The Queen is with us no more.  

  Ms. Put came to us quite by accident.  She was a wee kitten that some very hateful folks tossed from a car window.  The tiny eight week old kitten made her way through the woods, across the creek and up the hillside to the Little Bayou House.  She never left.  Her reign as Queen of the Bayou lasted nigh on twenty-two years.  The cat had dominion over all other denizens of the Bayou but she ruled with a kind paw.  Although she would defend her territory viciously, she would also help those in need.  More than once she came to the rescue of some pitiful throwaway pet.  She helped the likes of Blinky, the cross eyed cat that could not find anything to eat. She led him to her food dish each evening.  She befriended Boo, the Maine Coon Cat that was malnourished, and shared her meals with him.  Ms. Put came to the defense of Ms. Nycto, the newcomer who later became the Bayou Princess, by striking out against a much larger feral cat that was attacking Ms. Nycto.  She had even protected me against the same feral cat later.  My tiny, six pound cat was a fighter but she just could not fight any longer.  The invisible entity that was killing her from within was too strong.  The Bayou Queen died peacefully in the arms of Son.

  We will miss our dear friend.  We will miss her climbing to the rooftop to wait for the window to be opened at her whim.  We will miss her strange howls that sent chills up the spine of those not familiar with this sweet cat.  We will miss her purrs, her stretches and her finicky ways.  The Queen is dead.  Our hearts are broken.  Rest in peace, Little One.