Dragonflies, Turtles, and… Meerkats?

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“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.

Not a deer track.
Not a deer track

“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.

L’echo, c’est bon

~ shpak60 ~ Leave a comment

Now that I’m living mere minutes above Lake Mazinaw and Bon Echo Provincial Park, it makes sense that I explore the area, even though I’m being forced to work over 27 hours in the average day in the immediate aftermath of moving (Move that box! Find that thing! No, the other thing! Nap that couch! Zzzz…)

Then, when the entire board of the Friends of Bon Echo impressed upon me the importance of seeing Mazinaw Rock up close and personal (okay, it was just Teri, but still…), well, I had to do it, since, as anyone who knows me knows that I always do as I’m told (citation needed).

Into the park

It’s a peaceful and overcast Sunday morning, just after 10 a.m. when my party of four arrives at the dock to await our voyage du jour. The full majesty of Maz Rock sweeps across the eastern field of view. Now that’s a nice bit of scenery there. I’ll soon learn that the deepest points of the lake are directly below the sheer rock face.

Momentarily, I consider what it might be like to jump from the top into the water and then I remember I fear pain.

Shortly, our tour boat approaches. As it happens, we have the boat to ourselves, save the fast-talking Conrad, our steward, and Cap’n Steve, who is getting us from points A to B in delightfully leisurely fashion.

Learnin’ stuff

Will there be a quiz? I’ll fail. Conrad the purser has so much to share, his word rate is impressive. Talk about 90 minutes of content in a 45 minute tour. There’s no way my aged noggin can absorb even a fraction of the information spewing from First mate Conrad.

I’m still a little ticked he was kidding about the mimosas and breakfast service on the cruise. Taunting me with brunch… simply unspeakable!

However, I did store the difference between pictograph and petroglyph, and a week later it still simmers in my cerebral cortex, or medulla oblongata, or wherever it is this sort of thing stores itself. Maybe my spleen. I have no idea what else is going on there.

The Bon Echo

Cap’n Steve maneuvered us in a looping circle away from the Rock then back towards it to test the famed slapback audio feature that provided the park’s name. Given that I have a one-syllable name that everyone on board is used to shouting as a high-volume expletive, on several counts of three, we all shouted, “SCOTT” toward the Rock.

Having never met Maz Rock before this day, I was surprised to find that it shouted, “SCOTT” back as though it, too, were swearing at me. The delay was very close to 125 milliseconds on this day. Kudos to Cap’n Steve for calculating distance and the speed of sound altered by local humidity to produce such a round numbered delay. Another 20 metres in and we’d be able to duplicate the sound of “Heartbreak Hotel.”

Just… take the tour

I’ve been in a provincial park or two in my day. Bon Echo is a good one. You can support it with your day pass fees, daily, seasonal, or annual. Consider a modestly priced membership with the Friends of Bon Echo Park. This is the stuff we lament when it ain’t there anymore. Let’s not have that, shall we?

I’m the wrong guy in the wrong mood on the wrong day to sell you a verbal postcard on the merits of the Mazinaw Rock tour. Just do it. You have no reason to trust me, but once you take the tour you just might.