I nearly didn't come to the cabin today. I was here for the weekend, and felt, I dunno, lazy or indolent or something to return after two days. But it occurred to me a little while ago that I won't be able to come next week, because there's a convention out of town (the first since the pandemic), so it's a good thing I'm here.
My mom had left me a list of chores to do every time I came to the cabin, and one of them was to take the remaining pile of gravel beside the house and spread it out in wheelbarrows along the driveway. The next door neighbors had done so a couple of weeks back, but they'd used a machine to spread it.
I only managed five wheelbarrows full of gravel, but it was so darn hard to wheel them down the hill without it rolling out of control that even five was an accomplishment. If I do five every time I visit, I'll have the whole driveway completely done by, say, January (despite November being when we close everything up for the year).
Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups In September: 905
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I think I mentioned how pretty an animal I thought it was the last time I saw it, but that its dog-like growling disturbed me. Well, I still feel the same way, that it's an interesting mix between a rodent and a dog, but when I got near, it raised up its nose and growled, producing a long stream of saliva from its mouth--something I've only ever seen in movies featuring wolves or vicious dogs (slavering, I believe the word is).**
It was a large animal, between two and three feet long, and shaped unlike any other animal I've encountered, with their wide, flat body and stubby legs more turtle-like than rat-like. Anyway, I didn't dare get very close, just because I'm a coward, but I did take a couple of pictures, and then decided to drive up to the dam to ask my brother what I should do about it.
See, I figured he was just going to shoot it, but that you could also choose to drag the trap into the sun and see if the heat would kill it (like it does to woodchucks or ground squirrels), or maybe drown it, like we sometimes did to skunks on the farm. But I also thought that there might be value in leaving the animal undamaged, so that it could be stuffed and displayed, since I've never encountered a badger before, and thought it might make a cool . . . what do you call it, taxidermy trophy.
But my brother said that they're greasy, stinky animals, and it would be like trying to preserve a skunk, and was worried that it would pry up the cage and escape if I just left it there for him to retrieve on Saturday (it occurred to me that I could have dug a hole and buried it alive in the trap, if I didn't have access to a rifle that he keeps at the cabin). He said, if I wasn't able to shoot it***, that I should put logs on and around the trap so it couldn't get away, and he'd deal with it on the weekend.
Well, the sun was going down (it gets dark earlier every time I come here, sad as that strikes me) while I was talking to him, so I told him I'd take care of it, but I'd better race back before it got too dark to shoot anything. I did ask him how many shots it was going to take to kill it, and he said, "One, if you get it in the head."
So, hey, skip two paragraphs ahead, if you don't want to read about this bit, okay? I drove back, but it was already dark by the time I got to the cabin again, and the animal was completely hidden by shadows. There are no outside lights at the cabin, and I considered just leaving it until tomorrow, but I worried that it would escape during the night, and I'd have let both my brother and myself down. So I pulled my car up in front of the cabin, turned on the headlights to point toward my prey, and went inside to get the rifle. I'll not pretend to be tougher than I am: I was a little bit afraid to shoot it, having a delicate constitution, and remembering my brother's botched execution of a skunk a couple of years ago****. But time was wasting, I chambered a round, walked right up to the trap, and put the barrel inside one of the spaces between the bars.
The animal, meanwhile, was hunkered down, hissing and drooling, its razor-sharp teeth bared, its eyes black with threat, and I thought, "I'm going to miss, aren't I? Even this simple task is beyond me." But I aimed, right above its eyes, steading the weapon, and squeezed the trigger, expecting a deafening blast. But it was just a POP!, and then, the animal flipped over, like a dog playing dead. A ghastly noise issued forth from the badger, and a pool of bright-colored Dario Argento blood spread out from beneath it, it shuddered, and went still.
I have to admit that I was disturbed by it, and the experience was something I did not enjoy. It makes me a bit sickened to describe it here, and most upsettingly, it reminds me of watching my father die. I went to the car, turned off the lights, and took the rifle back into the cabin. I'll take care of the corpse tomorrow, since I had no desire to dig a hole in the dark.
Push-ups Today: 217
Push-ups In September: 1095
I had intended to record a piece from a new book of short stories I grabbed from the library today (one which hopefully has normal-sized print in it), but ran out of time. I did get my lines from the second-to-last episode of "The Deadbringer" audio drama recorded today, though. I guess I should plug that show better than I have been.
As far as my writing goes, I think I have one more section, or mini-section (like a couple of paragraphs) to write, and I'm done. That's nice, and I know if I just did a few jumping jacks, I could find the energy to write those paragraphs now, even though it's 2:11am. But I'm going to go to bed, resting assured that with my book 99% finished, tomorrow will be The Day. See you then.
Words Today: 592
Words In September: 7901
*My brother had shown me on his motion camera that it had been lurking nearby again, and something that torn open one of the traps to get at the potgut (squirrel) that was inside, so he put two and two together.
**Xenomorphs apparently do this as well, in a strikingly similar, mechanical way.
***There was an implicit criticism in this statement, that I wasn't man enough to kill the animal myself, but that he could do what I couldn't when he came up here. It didn't insult me--hey, I'm not a macho dude in any way, shape, or form, and have been known to sing Air Supply and Elton John songs with gusto.
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