There’s a reason why I wear earplugs to bed in a rural environment (my house sits smack in the middle of 2.5 acres): and that’s the array of nocturnal buddies who all want to ‘friend me’, vocally, at midnight.
Last night The Peanut Gallery (Bill) gave me a series of increasingly urgent pokes ‘till I awoke from REM sleep.
“Are you awake??” he hissed.
Yeah, NOW I am…but I had to pull das earplugs out to complete the transition from REM to PISSED.
“Listen to THAT!” he continued. Silence lengthened like the bad mood I was suddenly cultivating.
“It was HUGE. It was right outside our window. It started with a low bark, was silent for a few minutes, then repeated its call in a falsetto whistle.”
It’s challenging to mentally assess ALL the possibilities of the local animal kingdom’s nocturnal calls at 1AM – but an initial mental review pretty well eliminated the usual list of suspects: i.e. puma, bobcat, dying wabbit, or possum.
“What should we DO?” hissed TPG. It was then, now fully awake, that I realized the sordid truth.
TPG was wide awake in a manly fit of “defend my territory against invaders.”
Only there was NO CLUE as to this intruder’s identity – and thus, no possibility of making a proper plan for parameter defense.
There was only one thing I COULD do.
I handed him the box of earplugs and kindly advised him to ‘stuff it’ and ‘go to sleep.’
Silence descended (both inside and outside) – but I’m sure I heard The Final Word from TPG before sleep descended upon all:
“That’s right – close your ears to danger. You will be the first eaten.”
I snickered all the way into Slumberland, confident that Harry the Heron or possibly Rocky Raccoon – obviously more concerned about mating than omnivorous midnight cravings – wouldn’t be the cause of my demise that night.
Yeah, go ahead and ‘friend’ me….
Only NOT at midnight. I wear earplugs, and I can’t hear you.