The Sweet Sounds of Spring

Great White Dispatch
Notes From Damn Near Canada
No. 25
5/06/09
19:10

Last night, just after midnight, I was jerked awake by the sound of howling coyotes. No big deal. We hear coyotes all the time. They usually aren’t howling right outside our bedroom- I mean, just on the other side of the wall, six inches from my sleeping face- but whatever. Wild carnivores are just part of the deal out here. Back to sleep I went.

Take me to your Oreos or the railing gets pooped on.

Not even an hour later. Thump. I jerk awake. Ah. Just the raccoons jumping to the back deck. From the roof. See, they’re too smart to just use the stairs. No, they have to make it complicated, like a game of Mouse Trap. They scale one of the big elm trees, leap to the roof, then drop down to the deck railing, where they skitter around, overturning anything that might contain bird seed or Oreos. One of them usually leaves a present. And by present, I mean a turd. But the ‘coons are nothing new. I block out the sound of their nails on the wood, and even the school-girl screeches of the bastards arguing with each other over who gets to squeeze out the steamy ‘coon dump on my porch doesn’t beat out sleep.

One of these buttholes will soon drop a dog-sized stink link.

Another hour or so. Tulip the Dog, from her pillow in the corner of the bedroom, lets loose with a mighty, droning dog groan. I get up, make sure Dawn of the Dead hasn’t broken out (and that I didn't just hear my old dog's death rattle), and then stumble back to bed.

Not even a half hour later. Bats. Again, just on the other side of the bedroom wall. Chittering in such a high pitch that I can only hear it at certain angles. Sounds like someone rubbing two pieces of old Styrofoam together. At certain head tilts, it sounds like they’re actually inside the house. Not being a huge fan of the rabies, I get out of bed, flip on the lights, determine the place free of winged rodents, take some aspirin, mash the pillow over my ears and fall back asleep. Until 5 a.m., when the birds wake up.

Nature, you are a noisy, ill-timed bitch.