I was recently in the Berkshire’s
for my annual summer trip East to see the Travers horse race. Er, I mean I went to
visit my mom. Usually I get in a couple
of days before the race and leave a few days later. It’s a short and sweet
trip. Not this time.
This year, my nephew got married
the weekend before the Big Day. (Silly kid. He thought his wedding was the big
day. Maybe to him. But not compared to Triple Crown winner American Pharoah running in
the “Summer Derby.”) Anyway, I was there for a while.
Mom
lives on about 160 acres in Western Massachusetts filled with flora and fauna. That’s
because unlike California, it rains there. It’s downright lush. Grass, flowers
you know, green stuff.
There’s
also a lot of actual wildlife. Living in
Los Angeles, the only wild animals I see are an occasional coyote or deer. And that
skunk that lives next door… But in Mill River, Mom has wild animals just outside
her window. Sometime even bears.
I’ve never seen a bear, but I
usually to visit with the flock of wild turkeys that live in the upper
pasture and a deer or two in the front yard. One year there was a giant
porcupine happily pigging out on the downed apples in the orchard. Unfortunately a rabies outbreak wiped out the
raccoons years ago but that’s another story.
Last year was a complete wash-out, critter-wise.
I didn’t even see a single deer. Nada. I
settled for some chipmunks and a small red squirrel stuffing themselves at the bird feeders. Oh, and
a rhino on “Animal Planet.”
I hoped this year would be
different. Be careful what you wish for.
The second evening I was driving
home in the pitch black, since there are no street lights here. Heck, there’s
barely a street . Anyway, something slinked across the road in front of me. After I slammed on the brakes, a gorgeous, healthy, red
fox glared at us for a couple of
moments before it moved on. Nice.
The next evening at dusk I looked
out the front window and a couple of adolescent deer were peacefully munching
in the field. Most still had their spots. They were adorable. Sigh. I was in my
happy place.
The excitement came later that
night in the middle of a serious thunderstorm. Rain! Lightening! Thunder! Lots of
thunder. Whee! Having not seen rain in months, I was delighted.
Mom’s
little dog Monty, not so much. When the thunder cracks, so does his composure. He shakes, whimpers
and becomes totally pathetic. A few
drops of Rescue Remedy usually helps him regain his dignity. Usually.
I was dead asleep at 3:30 A.M. when mom when
woke me up. Apparently the ongoing storm pushed Monty beyond the help of Rescue
Remedy. Way beyond. When he gets like that, mom stuffs him in a
closet until the storm passes. There are pillows in there and he can’t hear the
thunder. He must like it; he stays
inside and goes to sleep until the storm passes. She needed my help to get him
inside.
“Oh,” she mentioned casually.
“There’s also a bat flapping around.”
A bat? I glanced around and I
didn’t see any bat. I figured mom was just getting loopy in her old age.
Um, no.
The next evening I was on
the phone when a bat the size of a California Condor swooped lazily through the
living room. The house has low ceilings and his appearance produced a fair
amount of ducking and screeching. All from me.
My 84 year-old-mother observed
Dracula calmly. “I told you there was a bat.
He is a big one isn’t he?”
My friend on the phone, safely back
in California, googled “Bat in the house” (the farm internet
is spotty) and relayed instructions. They were useless. Finally the monster made
its way onto the screened porch. I slammed the doors to the house, opened the
screens and hoped for the best.
I’m sure all the noise made the bat desperate to
return to the great and quiet outdoors; we haven’t seen him since. Just in
case, I kept those doors shut tight for four days. Just to be on the safe side.
A couple of days later mom and I
were driving through the little town of Caanan on the way to Brooklyn for the
day. Naturally there was road work, and
traffic was at a stand-still. Directly
in front of us was a small pickup. No biggie.
Until a a pigeon head craned out of
the truck bed and looked around. Up popped another. And then another. They were
quite lovely, shiny and iridescent and gawking at their surroundings.
Mom and I gaped. You don’t often
see a truck full of pigeons. Especially ones staring at you.
With traffic stopped, the
driver and got out. He shot mom and me a grin a bed and waved
his arms at the back of the truck. A dozen pigeons took off. He
motioned again and more flew out. It was like a clown car except full of pigeons. They flew a lofty circle overhead and
took off.
Homing pigeons. Hmm.
Anyway I'm back in Los Angeles. I saw a deer today at the stables.
Oh, and the Travers was great. Other than American Pharoah losing.
