URBAN AND OTHER WILDLIFE

As I said at the time …

We had enjoyed a glorious summer afternoon of swimming and canoeing at Pawtuckaway and, leaving the state park, we stopped by a tranquil reflecting pond to take photographs of a large beaver lodge. With my girlfriend behind me as while walked the frequently used trail at the edge of the woods, I heard her voice just as we were coming upon a grassy stretch: “Hey, this is a marshy area and that’s where SNA …” I half turned to reassure her that she wouldn’t see a snake, it happens very rarely in the outdoors, unless you’re really looking for them; consider how few times I’ve seen them in the wild and how far I’ve explored. But when I caught her expression the same moment I heard a slithering in the grass ahead of me and whipped my head about to see the last half of a vigorously moving reptile flash across the pathway a half dozen feet ahead, I wasn’t surprised when I heard her say, “I’m getting out of here. I’ll meet you at the car.” Actually, my biggest surprise was in how rational see was being, considering the depth of her fear. This is the same woman who, several weeks earlier, had nearly ripped another friend’s arm in half with her paralysis when a similar situation arose at Walden Pond. I’ve never before been with anyone who can call snakes from their lairs.

A week or two later, as we were walking about, looking for a restaurant in Boston’s Back Bay, I noticed two little critters playfully wrestling on an ivy-lined entryway to a church. Thinking they were chipmunks, I said, “Oh, look,” and as she turned her head, I saw in that fearful slow motion that they had long tails. Rats! Before I could divert her attention …