Timothy Birdnow

Greetings from the deep Ozarks, from whence I just returned after my stay at the nation's premier resort. As always I have a tale to tell and whether you give a 'possum tail about it or not I'm a-telling!

I hadn't been down in quite a while and we had some dandy storms so I needed to get down there to make sure the place was still standing. Cathy is doing well enough I felt comfortable leaving her alone for a night, so I loaded up the truck and headed down to the beautiful rugged hills.
As I was leaving I ran into my grass cutting guys. They are great guys, and they gave me a jar of honey from their own apiary! We discussed mead making (something I had done in the past and they have been doing with their own honey) and they offered to sell me enough honey on the cheap if I wanted to make some. I may take them up on the offer; it's been a long time since I made any mead, or wine, or beer for that matter. I miss it.

So I was off with a bang!

I got a very late start - something I hadn't wanted to do - and traffic was actually quite heavy. It took a while to get there, even though I skipped a few normal stops on the way. No visit to my favorite stinking outhouse, for example!

There is an outhouse in St. Francois State Park that should have a plaque in my name. I am it's principle customer. It seems no matter when I drive past it my bowels begin squeezing like a grape press making wine. I almost always stop there on the way, and on the way back too! I've had to use the
facilities on the coldest days of winter, the hottest, steamiest days of summer (I hate that worst - it's full of flies and the SMELL!) and all times in between. And I don't know who uses that place, but I've seen excrement on the walls, almost up to the ceiling! Who gets poop on the walls? I think it must be a Sasquatch version of Woodstock going on there after hours or something.)

At any rate I managed to avoid my usual stop and made good time, but still got down there late in the day.

I hadn't been there for a long time and it showed; my exit off the state highway was overgrown to the point I couldn't really see it. Now, I have bad vision anyway and it's always a danger with Timmy Magoo on the road, but I couldn't see the cutoff at all. And the entry to my little logging road looked no different than the rest of the woods. I know the shape of the road at the turn, but was unsure and had to pass it, turn around, and go back by several times (thanks to traffic backing up behind me, something very unusual down there.) Eventually I had to take a leap of faith.

And a leap it was, too; if I wasn't on the exit kindly provided by the Missouri Highway Department I would hit the ditch and get stuck. It's happened
before. Usually locals will tow me out. I could also call AAA. But it would ruin my trip.

At any rate, once on the road it was better and I parked in my usual hole in the trees (blocked by a huge fallen timber from my clearing as I was the last visit) and I got my stuff out and schlepped it around the deadfall to the luxurious Ozark Hilton.

There it stood in all it's glory; a two room wooden shack built from trash culled from the many alleys of the city of St. Louis. A sort of
Frankenstein's monster, this great work of architecture was assembled with completely incompatible pieces. I rarely sawed anything either; just found pieces that could be made to somehow fit together (sort of) and then nailed them up. It looks better than it sounds (or actually is) but not by a lot.

And the storms blew down the roof over the porch I built. I've got to do something about that some time - if the wasps let me. I stopped work on the porch because every time I worked on it my little red friends would take umbrage and I quickly learned I was not the dominant species there.

At any rate I had no time to lose; the Ozark Hilton requires quite a bit of settling in at the best of times. I have to sweep it out, remove the trash
bags and whatnot covering my fine furniture, the lamps have to be washed and trimmed and filled, etc. And after such a prolonged absence I had more than the normal amount of chores to do.

So I got to it cheerfully; how can you NOT be cheerful at such lush accomodations?

I didn't bother with any bug spray which was a mistake. The "no-see" bugs were out in force and I got my legs bitten pretty massively. Fortunately their bites go away in short order, but it is still pretty darned annoying when they get you. Ticks are worse, but I didn't see any (I may still have a few on me that I haven't found.) Chiggers are the worst. God smote Adam when He created chiggers. Evil things, and you don't even know they got you for a couple of days. Then the itch drives you quite mad.

Benjamin Franklyn famously said wine (or beer) is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy. Well chiggers are proof that Man is inherently evil and God wanted us to know He was angry at us.

At any rate I got my lamps serviced and lit and settled onto the porch to enjoy the beautiful night.

Nights at the Ozark Hilton are DARK. Built in a heavy deciduous which had not yet deciduated (to coin a phrase) the trees block most of the light in
the sky. Had the moon risen high I would have had some backlighting, but it was hanging out on the horizon. I caught a glimpse of it once or twice, but otherwise it was nowhere to be seen. A single star in the west appeared to me too; Venus I suppose, or Mercury. I couldn't see it after a couple of
hours so it was probably one of the evening stars. Had it been overcast there would have been nothing at all and the woods would have been like the inside of a stomach, blackbody black. You sometimes feel like you will be absorbed into nothingness in the dark night of the Ozark Mountains.

At any rate, it was so dark you could not see your hand in front of your face without a light.

Of course, I had several lights, including my kerosene lamps, my kerosene lanterns, and several good battery operated LED lights. LED lights were a
major leap forward to camping. They are much brighter than ever the old florescent lights and use less power. I've got a number of them down at the Hilton and they do me fine. Two kerosene lanterns and one LED on the porch gives me plenty of light. If you want to wander into the "yard" you had better bring one of the lights though or your neck you will surely break.

I used to use propane lanterns, but they get VERY hot and I have burned myself. They also require new propane bottles every couple of hours and new
mantles - and the mantles are dangerous to handle. Since my heart failure I stopped using them.

I sat on my porch and remembered the time so long ago (almost seventeen years now) when Cathy and I brought our then two cats to the Ozark Hilton for my 40'th birthday. October is always a beautiful time to go and the weather was glorious. Goccia, our urban, urbane, booze-guzzling mooch of a cat, hated it and kept trying to hide the whole trip. But Blackberry - my true best friend and a creature with the spirit of a lion - had a great time,
exploring the general area, patrolling the cabin.

That night I heard something I will never forget. A cooing sound could be heard from outside. Like a mating invitation by a female to a male, only it ended with a furocious roar like a lion would make. NOT the higher pitch mountain lion sound, but the full roar of the great African lion, king of the
veldt. I assured Cathy (who freaked out from it) all was well but when I turned my head my jaw fell open in fright. Ye gods! What the devil WAS THAT?

I never did find out and luckily Blackberry was locked in the cabin or he would have gone out to wage war with the beast.

I was thinking about that, and about my dear long gone friend (I had to put him to sleep for congestive heart failure nary a month before being diagnosed with the exact same ailment) and started thinking of a little story to perhaps write. As my cabin is just across a small valley from Bear Mountain, I thought up a story of a man-killing bear trapping an idiot in a cabin made of trash and his tiny cat coming to his rescue.

It was then that I heard a noise; something pretty big and FAST!

It was no opossum. It was no armadillo. Too big to be a rat or a mouse - and it moved too fast.

Picking up my LED light I shined it around in search of my visitor.

Years ago I built a Native American style wigwam. I didn't cover it with traditional material though, but rather some tarpaper and tarps. I used it as a storage shed. It was a dandy structure, and I would sometimes sit out in it on cold nights to read (it was that long ago - I still could read books
down there) by the light of a propane lantern. The shape of the structure and the heat of the lantern were enough to make it a shirts-sleeve environment. I remember getting hot and taking off my shirt once - in February with 20 degree temperatures!

But that was then and this is now and the structure is nothing but a sad pile of debris. I meant to build a permanent storage shed but illness got in the way. I still hope to do it some day.

My visitor scurried up on top of the wigwam. It was a bobcat.

We looked at each-other from across the 30 foot gap between us. He did not seem the least bit concerned about my being there. He stood proudly, looking at me as one looks at a curiosity. I was in HIS realm and he wanted to make sure I understood that.

I've never seen a bobcat before. They look like big housecats with lynx-like ears. Beautiful creature!

I suppose he wanted to catch rodents, and the remains of the wigwam were probably a good place to do so. Hey, I'm all for eliminating rodents; keeps
them out of the cabin.

I called Cathy and told her about it but she was less enthusiastic "better get in the cabin". After a bit of watching the little fellow I decided to
take her advice; the lack of fear on his part could mean rabies. I didn't think it worth taking the chance.

I dropped my light and it found the one spot on the porch where it could slide between the porch and the wall. DRAT! I could see where it was and had to take the very risky chance of sticking my hand through that hole and hoping nothing was waiting to bite it. I retrieved my light. I guess that's where my missing cell phone landed as well. I lost it about a year ago. Lucky for me it was a cheap flip phone and not an expensive smart phone.

So I packed up and went inside. Shortly thereafter I heard him on the porch, investigating. He hung around for a bit then I heard him no more.

It's magical to be in a place where a bobcat will come on your porch at night!

I settled into the cabin and pulled out a movie. Unfortunately I had brought the old dvd player, the one that I retired because it stopped working. I
managed to get it going but it ran about fifteen minutes then went kaput.

So I had little to do thereafter but think about the story about the cat and interweave it with this last little pastiche. I wondered if maybe Blackberry hadn't come back as a bobcat and visit me. Maybe that was him!

I was tired anyway so went to bed, or rather, leaned back in my easy chair (which is what I use as a bed down there in summer) and drifted off to sleep.

I dreamed of Blackberry.

I'm going to have to complain to the hotel management about that faulty dvd player.

At any rate, checkout is pretty flexible at the Ozark Hilton but it is recommended to check out early. Maid service won't be a problem, but there is no good reason to hang about in the morning. I started loading up at first light and, after using my state of the art toilet (two cinder blocks and a
toilet seat) I vamoosed for the long, uneventful drive home.

It's strange; I am always happy to leave but really miss it when I'm gone. It' is such a beautiful place. My cabin is on a tongue of land between two
hollows that used to sport wet-weather creeks. The creeks are always dry now; a gift of MODOT, who channeled the water elsewhere somehow when they
redid the road. The trees were small when I bought the land but are now starting to grow large. In late fall when the leaves are falling it is pure magic there; smell of wood fire, warmth on a brisk day. It really feels like a mountain oasis.

Of course anyone finding the place, especially at night, would be afraid. It's the kind of place that you would find in a horror story.

Which suits me fine; I don't want visitors. I love the solitude and the peace and my occasional wild friends.

Can't wait to get back!

Posted by: Timothy Birdnow at 10:03 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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