Demon Rodents

All the walking I’ve been doing is not completely without benefit. For one thing, I get some good thinking done during my walks. I forget everything I thought about the second I return, but at least I bothered to think to begin with, which I suppose I do enough of as it is. However, when I’m outside doing nothing, there are less distractions and this facilitates clearer and uninterrupted thinking, or at least less interrupted thinking.

At times, nature itself interrupts me. Take today for example. I was standing in place enjoying the weather in a very secluded area. The surrounding environment had been fairly silent until a bird came flying at full speed across the trail. I figure I must have startled it and to get back at me, it terrified me by letting out an ear piercing squawk before I even saw it. Now a bird squawk is not in itself terrifying, but making the transition from peaceful silence to sudden screeching clamor is at least briefly terrifying, and I was briefly terrified. The immediate response of my brain was “DANGER!” and I am chagrined to say I jumped a little.

Aside from being terrified by animals, there are other benefits to romping about in the wilderness. For one, I now know the sound that a chipmunk makes. I saw one the other day, looking as if it had the dry heaves and jutting out a forceful, hollow chucking sound. Determined to observe this chattering creature until it stopped, I stood there staring at it dumbly, locking eyes with it as it continued on just to spite me. Dry heaving and squeaking, all the while drilling into me with its unwavering, belligerent eyes, the thing began to intimidate me. I could not conquer this tenacious beast, and losing the staring contest, I retreated in shame. I suspect that as soon as I was out of ear shot of it, with no one left to spite, it ceased its chatter. I think it was perturbed by my presence. Maybe I’m anthropomorphizing, but deep in my heart, I do believe it wanted to devour me.

At any rate, now if I am ever walking with someone and we hear that strange noise I can say, “Hey, I know what that is. It’s a chipmunk.”  To which my companion will reply, “Really Bill. That’s fantastic.” And I will smile a little, maybe even nod my head in self-satisfaction, my partner’s sarcasm completely lost on me. And I will continue on my walks, being terrified by small animals, getting into staring contests with them and losing, irrationally mistaking large squished mushrooms for puddles of vomit in the middle of nowhere, briefly fearing for my life when a gust of wind motivates the surrounding foliage and my brain makes of it a phantom rabid bear – heroically I will continue my little afternoon walks, even in the midst of such peril. At least until school starts and I have something genuinely productive to do.