The Uric Acid Massacre

To tell the truth, I really don't know how to deal with this!

The Olympics National Park is a huge area in the northwest
quadrant of Washington State where I was born, and where
I became the soggy, drizzled-thinking, mossy critter that I am.

There are a few mountain goats out in the Olympics.
There are a lot more loggers and pickups than goats.
You know the routine: people love wild animals,
wild animals love to be left alone, people say, "There
is a wild goat! Let's go take a look at . . . oh, I don't know . . .
a goat. The goat says, "What in hell is this?", and then. . . .

There isn't much salt on the Olympics Peninsula.
Sometimes the goats, needing salt, go where people have been
because people hiking out in the woods on the Olympic Peninsula
need to pee, so they do, and . . . well, a little salt is a little salt.

Maybe that is why some goats are aggressive.
Maybe some goats are like some people.
Anyway, while most of the hikers said to hell with it,
one of the guys said he would scare the goat away.

The goat killed him.
They shot the goat.

It doesn't seem fair to me.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Friends-- My step-father of 35 years died this morning. His name was Conrad Royksund. He was 86 years old. He was born into poverty on a farm near Puyallup, WA. He was the first member of his family to attend college and earned a PhD from the University of Chicago. He paid his way through all of that by fishing in Alaska. He spent his professional career as a college professor. I met him when I was just 3 years old and don't actually have any memories of my life befor e he was in it. He was intimidatingly smart, funny as hell, and worked his ass off. He taught me to meet people with kindness and decency until I was certain they could not be trusted. He taught me to meet ideas with carving knives until I was certain they could. I will remember him as one of the bravest, most curious, and funniest people I have ever met. He left this world with a satisfied mind. We are so grateful. Dan Hubbard

The Sea is Rising

Let us just step back: two hundred and fifty years ago, or so, the ships of England and Spain had drifted onto a whole new continent, as they saw it, from far north to a savagely cold south; pole to pole, as if there were such things. Millions of people already lived here, some of them still hunters and gatherers; some of them very wealthy, indeed! Gold and silver stolen from the southern Americas funded Spanish and English dreams. There was land, lots of land, under starry skies above, rich land, and oil and coal and iron ore. The whole western world learned how to build industries not on simple muscle power, but on steam and oil. We farmed, too, of course. All we needed was cheap labor--slave labor from Africa, mostly, so the ships came with slave labor. Chinese labor built railroad beds where there had been rock cliffs. Europeans, long used to killing each other for good, religious reasons, brought their religious savagery with them. ...

At the Last Game of Year 2017"

Just like in the Bigger Leagues: No balls and five strikes. Add caption "I suppose he had something in mind." "Lift it! Lift your foot one inch!" "Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go!" Faster than a speeding ball In the Hearts of His Countrymen There are body-parts that wear out, and mind-games that go, but Jerry's spirit is indominable.

SmokeSound

Search This Blog