He's Got a Mouth on Him

So today I played a bit of hookey from work-related stuff and decided to go for a walk on the local hill since the weather was nice and the bears are probably out by now and my sciatic nerve hurts a lot when a sit, but not when I walk, so...

Apparently everyone else had the same idea. I passed more tourists with camcorders today than I've probably seen all year (and that includes ones I've seen on TV). And there were many funny people with expensive frame backpacks, GoreTex clothing, pockets everywhere, zip-away overpants, Merril boots, sun hoods, gloves, titanium walking sticks, and all sorts of equippage they don't need, looking for all the world like they were waiting for their sherpas before heading up to base camp on Mt. McKinley rather walking through a small state park with horse trails. (Me, I hit the hill with very little.) Spring seems to do weird things to people.

Realized a couple important facts:

  1. Almost all un-scooped pet poop is within a quarter mile of a trail head.
  2. Almost all horse poop is on uphill slopes or just after places where a road or trail widens out and the riders decide to gallop. (Ain't it funny how people ride animals which can run and relieve themselves at the same time?)
  3. Some tourists will film you with their camcorders without asking permission, waving at you enthusastically the whole time. (Apparently I'm now "local color.") To be fair, some were quite polite.
  4. Garter snakes apparently survive the winters here because one moseyed by me which was at least three feet long. Robins eat garter snakes, but the robin which found this one looked absolutely startled and flew off. ("Holy crap, I just attacked an anaconda!")

But the best "Hey I feel welcome amongst my fellow citizens and neighbors" moment came when stepping off a trail to let two parents and their four-strong brood of children pass. The oldest daughter is insisting that a maybe five-foot-tall branch she's carrying is her wizard's staff, not a walking stick, she doesn't need a walking stick because she's a big girl, but the spells she can do with the staff will keep them safe. Bringing up the rear is the youngest son, who's swinging a smaller branch from side to side mightily, shouting "I have a club! I'll crush anything bugs us!" The mother shouts back "What do you think is going to bother us?" And the little boy points his club right at me, waves it back and forth, shouts "Cougars...!" to his mother, then looks me straight in the eye, and says, just for me, "...asshole."

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