“Just saw a big catfish off the second dock. At least I think it was a catfish.”
“Was it ugly?”
‘Yeah.”
“It was a catfish.”
So went the site visit at Highway 41. Certainly, we’re within the range of Ictalurus punctatus, also known as the channel cat, North America’s most populous catfish species. Since we’re on the Mississippi (no, not that one), it seemed somewhat appropriate that our first piscine exposure was with a cat.
Less so was the next sighting.
“Meerkats.”
“What?”
“Meerkats.”
“What???”
Pointing to the ground. “Deer tracks.”
“Oh, okay. I thought you said…”
Yeah. Deer tracks. In the sand. Fresh. A good omen. Not meerkats.
Speaking of omens…
There was much discussion about the presence of a certain brown and thick dragonfly around the yard after my stepdad’s passing last summer. Forget that the mosquito eater had been a daily visitor for some time prior to this, it was a sign, some thought, of stepdad’s spirit hovering as a visitor from another plane.
Upon arrival at Hwy 41, we said our hellos to the agents who were onsite to let us in. Within seconds, a dragonfly landed on mom. Not only landed, but lingered. This is voodoo, not empirical research. However, it’s good voodoo, so I’ll take it.
There was also a turkey feather on a deck. I’m led to believe that this is another positive omen, a time-regarded symbol of abundance, gratitude, and connection with the land. More good voodoo, even if it’s voodoo that makes me crave cinnamon gravy.
Then there’s the wisdom, longevity, and luck symbolized by the turtle that was sunning on the northbound lane of Highway 41 as we were leaving. Exhortations were made, u-turns pulled, four-way flashers activated, and it was acclaimed that I should be the one to venture into traffic to rescue the turtle.
Feeling somewhat like a Star Trek red shirt, I snuck onto the traffic-less stretch of road, nudged said turtle with my foot to assess any snapping tendencies. She pulled her head inside, the gesture suggesting both, “I won’t bite you,” and “WTF do you think you’re doing????”
We had a little chat along the way. Okay, it was more of a stern lecture about sunning on a warm highway, how this was not a very good example for an expectant mother to set, and that I’d be very cross with her if she dropped her eggs on the west side of the highway. Now the damn kids would have to cross the road as a first challenge of life, not to mention all the chompy beasts that would love a baby turtle snack.
The circle of life gets ugly, don’t it? So I’m sticking with the good voodoo for now.
At least until the meerkats appear.
Out on Highway 41 