Zipping home mid-afternoon to make sure that the dog gets her afternoon dose of Propanthelene, I cut from the bank through past the pond, across the damp and soggy open stretch where the storm-driven seagulls and smart ducks have settled. They watch me like some weird mirage and I take a bit of care not to spook them. It’s waterfowl season for another couple months, so the migratory among them have probably had a hard go of it as late.
Back on the path, about to test the adhesion of a super-secret 650B gangster whitewall tire that appeared over the weekend, I notice an odd profile right in the middle of the 20′ wide paved path/service road.
“Dang!” thinks I. “That h’ain’t right…” and I wheel around to find a reasonably displaced crawdad, ready to unleash a can of serious whup-ass on anything that thinks they’ve found an easy lunch.
Takes me a few abortive attempts before I recall exactly how to grab the little long-armed sucker so he can’t attach himself to my ungloved hands. But, he’s finally under control, and with little ado, back into the water of the pond, a good 40-50 feet away. The seagulls look at me like I’m thoroughly stupid as I hop back on the bike and get back to my journey.
Reckon that one of the birds found him in the shallows and thought they might have a bit of lobster-like sustenance, but the wily crustacean proved to be a little too much to tangle with.