CHARISMATIC MEGAFAUNA

By Quiconque

Don't get me started
2004-04-22

Nature Special

I think someone is doing obeah against me. Twice last week I found a dead snake coiled on the walkway in my yard. The first snake was white. The second snake was brown. Each had been coiled in the same way on the same spot. What can it mean?

It�s not the first time I�ve encountered snakes in the yard. A few years ago I was terrorized by a headless snake that kept appearing on my doorstep despite my repeated attempts to fling it onto the farthest reaches of the garden. Every evening I�d get a rake and sling the snake over the vegetable patch to the shed and every morning I�d find the darned thing outside my door, its headless end a little more frayed-looking. At the time I blamed the feral cats.

It�s also not the first time I�ve encountered obeah. In my youth I remember seeing a mangled chicken in the intersection near our house. The summer heat had bloated it to the extent that the puffy orange feet looked more like part of Crackers�s costume than something found in nature. My mother explained to us that killing a chicken at a crossroads is a common obeah practice. If you take the Bronx River Parkway northbound from the 233rd Street entrance, look at the concrete island under the highway sign just before you go into the tunnel. Chances are that island is littered with chicken sacrifices. (The island�s proximity to a hospital might have something to do with it.)

People are usually surprised at the variety of animal life to be found in the Bronx. Our annual barbecue is routinely interrupted by a troupe of raccoons who use our yard as a shortcut. (What fun to see our apartment-dwelling guests scatter, yelling, �What the ___!�) Every spring skunks and feral cats fight for the honor of being the Smelliest Animal in the Backyard. I once saw a coyote crossing Jerome Avenue on its way to Van Cortlandt Park. (I also saw a swarm of rats flood out of Woodlawn cemetery. I don�t tell that story often).

My most surreal nature sighting happened in Hell�s Kitchen. I would blame the whiskey but I was with two other witnesses. Slightly staggering up 10th Avenue, Prima, Her Grace, and I were met with a sight that made us doubt our sanity and inspired the following conversation:

Prima: How drunk am I?

Her Grace: Man, that dog is huge.

Quiconque: Jeez, what smells like a donkey around here?

And yes, a man, very Juan Valdez-like, was strolling down the sidewalk, burro in tow.


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BLOGOPHILIA

addieplum
ashyknees
bevin
dumbokie
fresh peth
la belle helene
mr. snacks
my adult life
prettygirl
prima
rex kramer
shasta red
sooner
squirma
totally knitting
waterlilysage
yoko
zantimisfit
'zaziel

LINKS







tomato nation
cocktail
heartless bitches
miss manners
bunny survival tests
scary squirrel world
angry alien
not martha
my theme song
j.k. rowling
four word film reviews
chicklit

DIARYRINGS

napqueens
geek-love
anthropology

LISTENING TO: "Light" music wafting over from my colleague's cubicle.

READING: Urban Sociology: Critical Essays. Yeah, it's dry.

WATCHING: Fresh episodes on the WB

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