By Pauline Tom
Wouldn’t you know? KissMe, Our Great White Hunter with Red Spots, already produced another story in the ongoing saga. Late one afternoon, when I stepped out with dustpan, there, just beside our dachshund height chain link fence, a young fawn pranced. I summoned Priscilla to enjoy serenity in this little slice of paradise.
Just as our houseguest came through the dining room French door, KissMe dashed from the garage’s doggy door passage at weiner-dog-race-worthy speed.
As I ran toward KissMe yelling, “Stop, KissMe, STOP!!!”, an angry doe came into the story, from out of nowhere. Angry Mama herded KissMe away from me and away from her fawn. Back and forth they darted, with her hoof striking the ground, time after time, as it narrowly missed KissMe. Circling around oak trees and torn turf, I managed to scoop KissMe into my arms with Angry Mama about a yard away – a 3-foot yard away.
Angry Mama turned to direct her little one up and over the little fence.
KissMe escaped with just a long scratch on his right side’s hide (right close to the long scar from the time he didn’t fare so well with an Angry Mama encounter). That three minutes of adrenalin-pumping action counted as my 30-minute walk.
Another day, I summoned Priscilla to enjoy paradise serenity from the back porch when I spotted two tall-antlered Axis grazing with doe in Lynn Cobb’s backyard. It ended up a five buck view. That’s a record for us.
KissMe summoned us to the back deck on Father’s Day with incessant barking. This time, it was not a snake or a scorpion. (Let me say, it has been a three scorpion week in our house.) How in tarnation did KissMe spot a stationary huge dark spot on the ceiling twenty feet above his head? At first glance it appeared to be a bat.
KissMe inadvertently led us to tidbits galore. Our Internet search brings us to the conclusion that it’s a Black Witch. Wikipedia led us to find Mike Quinn’s cultural history of the Ascalapha odorata.
Folklore abounds. Going back the Aztecs, some Indians in Mexico call it mariposa de la muerte (butterfly of death). On Cat Island in the Bahamas it’s called a Money Month. Quinn goes on to say, “… in South Texas if a Black Witch lands above your door and stays there for a while you would win the lottery!”
What do you think? Did I send RonTom out for a lottery ticket?
Locally, in and around Mountain City, if a flock of plastic pink flamingos lands on your lawn under cover of darkness, you must contribute to a particular charitable cause. Such was the case over the weekend on Live Oak when James and Dianne Polk were on the spot to produce funds for the youth group of Kyle’s First Baptist Church.
Locally, from Mountain City, it’s no myth … Montage needs tidbits. Send to [email protected] (subject: TIDBIT) or phone 512-268-5678.
Thanks! Love, Pauline
