To the Batcave! (or Perils of Friendly? Wildlife)

I read a couple books lately (thus ignoring my blogging duties—sigh) that brought about waves of nostalgia—my brother gifted them to me from Amazon, so I did the same for Bailey and Nate: Narrow Escapes & Survival: 23 True Sportsmen's Adventures by Ben East. We adored these growing up.

So, when raucously loud snorting, snarls, and banging noises occurred right outside the darkened window where I lounged on the couch, I nearly jumped out of my skin!

BEARS!!!

Of course I knew this wasn’t so, but when you’re thinking of your daughter and husband traveling to Alaska soon and a guy has just had his face ripped off by one powerful swipe of a bear’s paw...and campers’ cabins and tents were ravaged and destroyed night after night and another guy’s ribs were torn out of his body and his thigh meat bitten off in chunks while trying to play dead…well, this ruckus was downright mean and LOUD.

The Fugitive and her FIVE babies eat supper here every night. Leftovers and catfood become their nightly meal—even peanut butter sandwiches from old bread (1 a-piece) or stale rice krispy treats! Their little faces are darling as they peer up through the screen, but they are very skittish and scamper away until the treats arrive—usually. (I almost crunched one’s head as I was stepping outside—it decided to have a look-see in the kitchen—yikes!) Here's Mama: her eyes don't normally glow!

But if the One-armed Bandit arrives, all hell breaks loose; horrible fighting that kept Brigs awake for hours--sounds just like the description of Bears...

Unfortunately, I woke Brigg up last night too…another bat entered the kitchen, flew a few livingroom laps and hightailed it upstairs. It disappeared; I eventually entered Brig’s room—it had crawled under his door and was rapidly circling, but was beaten down by a pair of dirty boxer shorts and shuffled into a new leather boot where it was ‘booted’ out the door. Brig’s room is pitch black, now renamed “The Bat Cave”, since the darkness must appeal to them—if any more take up residence I will name them Keaton and Kilmer, ha!

(Old partial painting found behind a door. I must of been bored out of my mind.)
Back to the books…so much for Global Warming…its unbelievable the temperature is down to the 50’s/60’s here in August. Where are the suffocating, sweaty nights and miserably hot days? Reading about frozen corpes in James Michener’s Journey, and the lost, starving travelers in Chilcot Pass or other areas of Canada/Alaska/Michigan makes me shiver and don a hoody, though I won’t be losing any limbs to frostbite or gangrene. I hope Bail and Nate take this trip seriously; where one can walk a few feet off a trail and grow hopelessly lost and never found, or where a bear will kill you for looking at its salmon! Don’t mean to be funny—read those books!