Wildlife

I was climbing the Lost Mine Trail in Big Bend when I saw her, about fifteen feet up, snacking and watching me. She was tiny and furry, and I thought she must be an adolescent doe. Was I contemplating the mystery and wonder of life as I watched her, so much in her own skin, such a balance of strength and grace? No. I was thinking about the rotary motion of her jaw as she chewed with her mouth open, and how that is a necessary component of eating that human babies develop in the first year of life (You can take the OT out of the clinic...). Later, when I was coming down the trail, I discovered that she wasn't as young as I thought; she had her tiny baby tagging along with her. I learned from my river guide that they are a special kind of white-tailed deer that, in the US, are only found in Big Bend. I did not verify, but sounds good to me.

When I was in Yellowstone around 2000, I was amazed at how cute the buffalo at the gift shop were, while they were so ugly in person. This time, it was the javelinas, so cute in the gift shop, but in person, wowzers, are they ugly! I was glad to be inside Syd when I saw them cross the road. They are rodents of unusual size that resemble greaser pigs. I used to think that the creature singing Hakuna Matata in The Lion King was a warthog. I am now certain that it was, in fact, a javelina from Terlingua. It was all Hakuna Matata in that dusty town. Work was performed just long enough to support the purchase of Lone Star and schwag. It was really interesting for all of about five minutes.
Danny: Did you get the brakes on your truck fixed yet?
Hollywood (who talks just like Boomhauer): Nope, don't need 'em.
Lindsay: [laughs]
Hollywood: People know to get out of my way.
Lindsay: [nervously sips beer, thinking about the incline of the hill we're on]

I took an awesome canoe trip down the river, surrounded by 1500 ft canyon walls. For a while in the afternoon, we floated silently, listening to the bats waking up en masse, and beginning to flutter around; a thin layer of limestone separating them from us. My canoeing buddy was a priest for 15 years, and then ran a non-profit for 15 years in Brownsville. He doesn't like bats. We hit lots of rocks and had a great time. I asked him toward the end of our trip what day it was. "Thursday? It can't be Thursday!". I got out of that vortex as soon as I got off the river and paid for my stay at Las Ruinas, the campground/bar that was way better than the yucky hotel where I had been (El Dorado Hotel: I'd rather be camping).

The adventure has slowed down a bit. I'm in Tyler, where I got to spend Mother's Day weekend with my mother and grandmother. I also got to see some wonderful friends on my way here, stopping just long enough to get some cord for my tent poles, hear a fun Irish band, share some stories, and get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow, I'm heading to my grandmother's old house for a few days - the one in the country that she left for Tyler a couple of years ago. No telephone service there, so no internet, but I'll check back in soon.

Peace.

"I know it's not a party if it happens every night." -The Postal Service