Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Varmit Hunting

I was walking the other night out to my shop building. After a hot day the sidewalk was still warm but the air had cooled and ther evening seemed to turn out pleasant. I noticed that a couple of pears had fallen and were half eaten by some varmit that usually wanders the property.

I open the shop, the air stale from the building being shut up for days. The first thing that greets me is my old Dodge convertible. I look at it and wonder if I'll ever get it running again. The way things are as of now, it doesn't seem likely. But my task isn't the car, it is looking for some indestript tool that I know I won't find. What I find is that something has thrown everything all over the place. The tools on the workbench has been scattered over the floor. Plans I had drawn for a shelving unit had been ripped up and chewed on.

I froze. There's a varmit in the building.

I slowly turn and grab a garden hoe that thankfully wasn't put in its correct place, in the garden shed. Now that I can defend myself, I go into the hunting mode. I slowly walk over to the wood bin. I shake it making all kinds of noise, but no varmit. I tiptoe over to the Christmas boxes stacked full of stuff varmits love to chew on. I search one after the other but no varmit.

Then panick hit me. The car. The varmit has took up residence in the car. I could see the seats shedded, the carpet soiled with, well, you know what, I could see that it would be a nightmare. I walked up to the car and peeked inside, everything looked as I left it. The dust on the seat and dashboard showed me that nothing had disturbed it.

Then it dawned on me. The eves of the roof. The varmit is roosting in the eves of the roof. Being a shop and not being finished on the inside as a house would, the eves of the roof are closed to the outside but open on the inside. I start checking those eves, one after the other until I came to the last one, of course it had to be the last one, and there was a mound of fur in the corner. I could see this gray fur and one paw which had long claws and I knew that a possum had invaded my shop.

I found an old broom stick that I had stuck a nail into for picking up trash. I took it and jabbed it but it didn't move. Was it dead of just playing possum? I wasn't going to grab it to find out. I jabbed it harder and harder, hard enough I thought it would draw blood, but it didn't move. I grabbed the hoe and hooked the leg. It came to life then and turned to face the hoe. A long hiss came out of it, it sounded like something from a horror movie. Great, what do I do now? I'm not a gun owner, not yet anyway, so I couldn't shoot it and drag it out and bury it. But I do have a air nozzle on my air compressor. So I fire up the compressor and see if that would work. I was amazed at the reaction the varmit had to a stream of compressed air.

It went bonkers. You'd thought it was from Yonkers. I came out of the eve and down the wall. One thing I failed to mention is that I had opened the overhead door that is on the wall beside where he was resting. As he descended down the wall my hopes were that he would just run outside the door. But no, he turns and comes directly for me. Another thing I forgot to mention is that I'm standing on a stool designed to be sat on to work on a vehicle. It folds up for storage and has wheels on the bottom. I think you get the picture already. I make the unfortunate move of flinching when he turned toward me. The wheels start rolling and my butt heads for the floor.

They say that in dramatic periods of your life that time slows down. I watched in slow motion as the floor came closer and closer. At least I'd be landing on the most padded part of my body. I watched the stool shoot out from under my feet and slam into the possum. The air nozzle never leaving my hand, and never stopped shooting the air towards the possum. I guess it was more than he wanted to put up with, the last time I saw him he was headed towards the neighbors house, laughing all the way.

I decided then and there, too much city in this old boy. Hunting varmits isn't a hobby I'll ever embrace. I'm sure the varmits feel much safer tonight.


Elizabeth (Beth) Westmark said...

I almost spilled my coffee into the laptop reading this, Walk. This one I've got to show to Buck. He will love it.

Thanks for helping get the morning off to a great start!

Anonymous said...

Too Funny!