As twilight fell this evening, Heinz von Mueschrat paddled by our house leaving an ever-so-slight wake in the calm lake. His name? Well, the wild muskrats here have always reminded me of stoic Germans, perhaps because of their vigilant, all-or-none approach to both work and play. Even their scruffy hair, beady eyes, and stiff whiskers look the part – don’t you think?
Ja ja. Deutsch. Ja!
Anyway, here came Heinz, sniffing the brisk air, cruising along at idle speed, presumably enjoying the sunset’s glow on the water. A few oblivious swans grazed for underwater weeds with their fat bottoms in the air, vaguely reminiscent of those gross yard ornaments of bent-over women displaying their chubby pantaloon-strewn derrieres.
Heinz approached, obviously without concern. The preoccupied swans continued eating with their heads underwater, ostrich-like.
Maybe Heinz’s paddleboat feet churned up some interest, or maybe he invited attack merely by entering territorial waters. I don’t know. But in any event, all of a sudden a swan righted her body, ruffled her wings in protest, stroked a few swift strokes toward Heinz, and peck-pecked the little Mueschrat on the head with jackhammer strokes.
Heinz dove. The swan kept drilling.
I didn’t see another sign of Heinz. Perhaps as a practiced escape artist he zipped away to find refuge without further harassment. I’d like to think he outsmarted that arrogant Nazi-swan and is safe and sound tonight in some cuddly burrow at the edge of the wetlands, asleep on a bed of dry bulrushes.
No comments:
Post a Comment