Timothy Birdnow

The weather was more like late September than July in hot, steamy Missouri, so I packed up my troubles in my old kit bag - along with all my junk, and some victuals and even a fine cigar I had laying about - and made the great trek down to the land of blue skies and bugs and a dilapidated trash cabin that I so dearly love.

The drive was largely uneventful. I did NOT make my customary stop at the Birdnow Memorial Outhouse and Rest Center but rather continued well beyond it, all the way to the hamlet of Cherokee Pass, the last outpost of civilization. When I first started going down to the land I always stopped there, and frequently would get breakfast at one of the two diners in the town of Cherokee Pass was more like a Western town along Route 66 than a Missouri "dogpatch" community. Named for the Trail of Tears, the town featured a good sized motel, and a Dog and Suds. A nice clean community, full of life. But the State of Missouri decided to expand Highway 67 to four lanes, bypassing the main drag. So now Cherokee Pass is a shell, a ghost town with nothing left except one gas station which sits next to the new highway entrance. I frequent that place; it has th "good wood", bundles larger than what you can get in St. Louis, and better seasoned, and just better wood. There is also a Subway Sandwich shop attached to the gas station and I frequently buy my supper there.

At any rate I took care of business there and enjoyed the lack of ripe smells that accompany the Birdnow Memorial.

The rest of the drive was uneventful and I arrived at the turnoff to my place about four p.m. I had gotten a late start (due to the issue that led me to the gas station, or lack thereof; I don't like to go to the cabin without a good bowel movement in the morning.) Everything went smoothly and I was unpacked in no time.

The inside of the cabin wasn't trashed any more than it has been, but there were considerable rat feces on the floor. No good; it means rats are squatting in my cabin. I worry about that; they carry diseases and can be rabid and I saw the movie Willard as a child so there is not love lost for them. I swept up as best I could.

I needed to go there and REALLY work one of these days; get there early and clean the whole place out. But I have a bum ticker and such labor proves to be much harder than I would like, and nobody goes there anyway but me. It is sad to me; I poured my heart and soul into that place but nobody ever visits. Shoot; my family hasn't even SEEN it since I added the new room! And now it's starting t degrade and probably will just fall into ruin. Definitely once I'm gone it will die too.

At any rate I took my time with everything and started filling my lamps at the early hour of 7, well before sundown.

I was out in the "yard" sitting in a chair to catch a few rays (what few you can catch under the forest canopy) and heard some critter in the distance. About a hundred yards away was a big deer. I haven't seen one of those down here for ages. I couldn't see a rack, so I'm guessing it was a doe? Hard to tell with my poor eyesight. She was rooting around in the debris left from my abortive attempt at building a treehouse. I had built a floor deck on four small trees, about five feet off the ground. I planned on roofing it and screening the walls and would have a great summer treehouse. I used to sit on the platform and relax sometimes; it was built at the edge of the western hollow and had a pleasant view. But when my heart went kaput my treehousing days were cut short and the place fell into ruin. I don't even have a ladder to climb up to the deck any longer since thieves stole it. So, like so much else down there, it has become just another part of the trash dump. I swear I feel like one of the Fat Albert gang down there; rats and junk. I don't have any home-made musical instruments though.

I sat out on the porch until about midnight and I got cold. I love sitting out on the porch at that time; the critters come out but remain in the velvety blackness of the forest. I sit in a little island of light, my lanterns creating a warm, homey glow and driving out the blackness beyond. No critters this evening though. I did hear a love-struck owl hooting for companionship. Like a guy calling a 900 number. He would hoot and hoot. Eventually another owl answered in the distance "hoot, hoot, ho-hoooot!" The hooting stopped abruptly and I never did find out if a love connection was made. I would think there would be more commotion if it had. I fear the old boy was in for the duration in the lonely heart's club.

I fell asleep about 1:30. I like to stay up late down there and this was pretty early for me,but I was tired.

BTW I forgot my insulin and even though I just nibbled my sandwich I was up at 360 this morning. There was nothing to be done though. There used to be a Walmart in Piedmont I could get insulin - and needles - from but it closed. I was SOL.

I woke up with stomach cramps and couldn't get back to sleep so I packed up first light and vamoosed. No point in hanging around.

Actually there was and I wish I would have tarried; the thickest fog I ever encountered had rolled in. I mean it was impossible to see ten feet in front of you! I had thought it would just be around the lake but it was everywhere, and lasted half the way home. Only one other time have I seen fog this thick. I was coming home from the cabin and nearly lost my life as some dimbulb trucker started turning to go to Cherokee Pass and he stopped blocking the northbound lanes. In the fog I didn't see him until WAY too late. Licked up the breaks and purposely drove off the road! I didn't hit him or turn over the truck but it was a close, close thing. I can't imagine why that guy thought stopping an 18 wheeler in such fog was a good idea but he did it.

At any rate I didn't have anything like that, although people were out driving as if it was a bright, sunny day. I am eternally amazed at the obtuseness of people. They were riding my tail, then would whizz around me, completely oblivious to what was ahead of ME. Lots of 'em didn't have their lights on either. Run into one of those in that fog and you've had it!

So I got home and hit my easy chair for a good sleep. I sleep in an easy chair these days; much better for my back. I haven't had back problems since moving there. It also helped Cathy, who needed the whole bed when she was sick.

I had a dream. In my dream I had been bitten by a couple of bats, only I wasn't sure THAT wasn't a dream. so I was dreaming I was dreaming! But that brings up a real issue; bats could well get into that cabin, and it would be the kind of place they would like. I have to worry about that. Bats are basically flying rats and carry even more diseases,if that is possible.

When I was a Tween I walked home through Bellefontaine Park - a big, wooded park in my neighborhood. It was dusk and as I was walking along I heard a bat squeek. The little love child then strafed me, dive bombing my head. He flew up and then did it again. I got a big stick and started taking swings at him as if he were a flying pinata. Eventually I made good contact, and knocked him out of the park in a Mark McGuire-esque display. He never came back.

I HATE bats! I don't care if they do eat mosquitoes; I never had a mosquito dive bomb me repeatedly.

I wonder if that bat was rabid?

At any rate it's cause for concern, as are the rats. I need that big Black Ratsnake to come back; no rodent problem with that fellow on the job! I suspect a nice smoky fire would flush the bats out too.

And so ends my Ozark Hilton tale. I hope everyone liked it! I enjoy writing them and telling everyone about my misadventures in the prettiest trash heap that the Hills have to offer. I enjoy the call of the wild; I may be a city critter but my heart still hears the call, like the guys dog in the Jack London story.

That's all for now!

Posted by: Timothy Birdnow at 02:37 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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