Living the dream (with my Survivor flashlight)

With full awareness that my blog has been a rather "journal-like blog" of late, I hereby will describe to you a most excellent evening of mine in my new locale. Two evenings ago, the clouds hung low, and the breeze was unseasonably balmy. January in the North Carolina mountains is typically frozen and white, but this one has been primarily rainy, muddy and grey. Nighttime began its descent at about sometime between 5:30 and 6:00, and I set out for a walk around the hood. I mosied around the Gephart fields for a while before arriving to G and K's at dark to feed their dogs, as they are outta town. With my handy "Survivor" flashlight, I paused underneath G's bird feeder, which is mounted on a tulip poplar outside their main room window at a height of about 12 or 15 feet. I heard some quiet munching above me and when I shined the light up there, I was delighted to discover about 6 or 8 very busy, very quick moving flying squirrels feeding above me. Curious little things, those critters are. They move so quickly it is hard to follow, jumping from branch to branch, extending their little front and back legs to outstretch their odd flap of skin and then gliding from one branch to another and from one tree to another. Their beady little eyes shown in the light of the Survivor, and they took turns nibbling sunflower seeds. It was a show- a quick little configuration of dancing and gliding cute rodents. I an unsure as to the proper identification of the critters- Northern Flying Squirrels (Glaucomys sabrinus) differ only slightly from Southern Flying Squirrels (Glaucomys volans), and according to Peterson's A Field Guide to the Mammals of America North of Mexico, the ranges of both overlap here in this very western part of North Carolina.

From G and K's, a continued on, through field and forest, headed to the sweet one room cabin home of S and T to celebrate S's birthday with hot chocolate and shortbread cookies and talking and laughing. On the way there, my Survivor flashlight found many sets of nicely spaced eyes glowing on the edges of the pastures. White-tailed deer (Odocoileus viginianus) resting and grazing without fear is a beautiful sight to behold. These abundant creatures are both graceful and mighty, and always induce awe and admiration in me.

After a lovely evening of birthday communion, I walked home at about 10:00, back through field and forest, by the old cemetery. My walking companion was Ruby, S's little funny orange dog, who bounced excitedly up the hill, wagging her little funny waggedy tail all the while. Upon arrival at my domain, I scanned the edges of the clearing with the trusty Survivor, in my routine attempt to catch my nocturnal neighbors in the acts of their familiar. I spotted two little closely set beady eyes glowing atop of the compost pile, and, just as my eyes were able to make out the rest of the opossum form (Didelphis marsupialis), little Ruby bounded into the stream of light and grabbed the possum in her mouth, taking it down to the ground with a hearty shake of her funny little head. Just as quickly, she dismounted her prey and looked up at me with a funny little questioning look as I approached the scenario. The possum lay curled into a little ball of sorts, looking lifeless. Its mouth was open to expose its pointy little ugly teeth, and its long grotesque tongue was dramatically curled out as if to say, "I am soooo dead!" I felt skeptical. You can never trust those little suckers to be dead when they look dead. And even when they are dead, like hit by a car and killed cold in the highway, there still might be a little surprise if you reach into the pouch- there might be a small collection of hidden baby marsupials in there, alive as can be... I poked it with my toe and it breathed, but then quickly resumed its dead pose. I walked away and went to fetch water for my bucket bath. When I returned, the possum was gone. Go figure. They don't call it "playing possum" for nothing.

I dosed off reading in the camper while the bath water heated on the stove, and woke up in time for another glorious bathing experience outside under the low clouds in the mild and strange midwinter breeze. I truly am living the dream.