100 Things About Me #74

I Live in a Zoo
We relocated to the country to get away from the concrete and noise of metropolitan civilization -- and those guys that spit on our windshields at traffic stops, wiping the glass with their elbows.

There are no windshield spitters in the wilderness. We have pine sap. My car is covered in what the untrained eye would call "Mumps in Rubber Cement."

But that's another story.

We anticipated wildlife in the area when we moved to our simple cabin in the woods -- a few extra rabbits, perhaps, and the sporadic rooster and cow on nearby farmland.

Instead, add many more to those species. We've had a non-stop parade of unannounced visitors in our yard: deer, flying squirrels, owls, vultures, s-s-s-snakes, possums, raccoons, hummingbirds, peacocks, turtles, mice, frogs, ducks, turkeys, lizards, toads, and Jehovah's Witnesses to name a few from Thursdays.

I've heard coyotes howling in the dark. We've spotted bears on the lawn. And my neighbor nearly drove his truck into a mountain lion on his way to the mailbox. These situations not only disturb me for safety reasons, but also because giant cats get superior service down at The UPS Store.

There is a steady tangled mess of flying insects, too, none of which, apparently, received a memo on the purpose of our big city bug lights.

They wing in nightly for a bright, warm swarm around the yellow porch bulbs. With arms a-flailing, we must clear a path through the air in order to enter the house. On several occasions, I've mistaken my wife for the actress 'Tippi' Hedren, confusing her with similar images from "The Birds."

For some reason, the insects in this rural forest are larger than any we experienced in suburbia. As I type these words, pet Morty eyeballs a moth the size of Seth Green on the windowpane.

Quite a coincidence, considering Morty reminds me of Greg the Bunny.

But that's another story.

As soon as The GEICO Gecko appears, our Nature Lotto cards will be filled.

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