Welcome to your Community Bulletin for the week of August 6th. Just got back from the regional medical center where everyone is currently being discharged, or are in improving condition. So, all’s well that ends well. I’d like to say that we learned a lesson from this, though really, it just reinforced the old Song family maxim “When cleverness fails, run!”
So negotiations regarding potholes repair have been making good progress, with… just kidding
So, this whole Fishing Raid thing was Art and Ken’s idea. I don’t say that to throw them under the bus, just that they made some discoveries over the last couple of weeks that may help with the whole badger issue.
Ken said that it started with that questionable tobacco. “It had a heady scent, kinda like the incense at some of the Buddhist and Shinto shrines I visited in Japan. I was free associating about the similarities and differences between where I was in Aga and the Northwest. I got to think about raccoons vs raccoon dogs, the similar trees, and badgers vs…wait a second, Japan has badgers too! So, what is something we have that Japan doesn’t, or didn’t?”
Art’s discovery was hinted to him by the Jackdaw. He discovered that the badgers would not approach a skunk, not even a skunk pelt, so long as it was moving. “That’s why I had to high tail it to Coos Bay. I have a buddy down there that does taxidermy. Teaches it even, so he’s always got left over or unwanted pieces. Sort of a morbid ‘island of misfit toys.’ I was able to use a skunk pelt on a line to scare three badgers away from a tackle box full of fish. But they’re smart, so it has to act like a skunk. So, I mentioned this to Ken, and we figured it out.”
What they figured out is that the natural bane to Badgers are Skunks! Why? “They aren’t competitors, badgers don’t prey on skunks, but anywhere in the world with badgers like ours generally have pretty small skunk populations.”
So, last night was an experiment. Could twenty folks with a combination of skunk skins cast from fly rods and some others with ampules of synthetic skunk pew be able to run off a band of badgers?
Well, the first couple of casts worked well. Badgers came pouring up over the rocks to see what was attacking them. Seeing our “skunks,” they fled as expected. However, when they saw they were not being pursued, they regrouped and attacked, tearing the lures to shreds. That’s when disaster struck. Somebody (were are not naming names here. It’s going to be pretty obvious for awhile), stepped backward, crushing the box of skunk stink, which got everyone choking and hacking, which caught the attention of the badgers, who came flooding up the hill like a tiny mongol horde. They avoided our self-appointed Mr Stinky, and chased after the rest of us into the woods.
We stayed pretty well grouped up. Fortunately, Art and Ken had planned for this contingency and tried to draw them off with splashes of sardine juice on their clothes and small animals calls. This let many of the fishing party get away. However, their efforts became complicated when they reached the tree where they had stashed their shotguns- the guns were missing. Art felt inside and pulled out the warm, wet corpse of a raccoon. He looked back into the darkness, and his gaze was met by two of the most baleful green eyes this side of Hell. Art recoiled before losing his hand, and Ken turned to see Rumplstiltzkat emerging from the hollow tree, snarling, ready to pounce our fish-scented heroes.
And that is when the badgers came into view.
Now, I’m no psychologist, but I’m pretty sure Art and Ken were having what many misadventurers call “A brown trousers moment.” Rump, on the other hand, was loudly dedicating the coming bloodshed to his infernal lords.
The badgers launched at them, Rump flew into the badgers, and Song & McKesey were swinging and punching at whatever party happened to be biting them at that moment.
Art said that, just when they thought they were finished, there was a bright flash, a woody ‘thunk’, and flying badger bodies. The next thing he remembered was hanging like ragdoll, looking back up the hill as the agent for hell-on-earth seemed to hover down the hill after them. Then, he awoke in the back of Jack Mason’s pickup as they raced to the hospital.
Ken said he blacked out before that point and came to at the hospital.
I asked Jack how he found them and he said “I heard a pained howl getting louder and louder, so I put on my robe to head downstairs and check it out. Just as I get down to the front room, BAM! My front door’s off it’s hinges and there’s Momma Smith with Art under one arm and Ken over her shoulder. She runs out, roaring at me, lays them in the bed of the pickup, then keeps shaking the truck, pointing down hill, yelling ‘Trive! Trive! Trive!’ So I grabbed my keys and my wallet and ‘Trove’ them to the ER as fast as that little Datsun could go”
So, like I said before, all’s well that ends well. More or less. Edna has a “Fishermen not served here” sign posted on the front door of the diner, and several folks have commented that the breeze up from the river carries a skunky odor. So, chemical warfare is probably off the table for a while.
Rumplestiltzkat was last seen about an hour ago on the bench in front of Stumpy’s, sitting on Ken’s shirt. Stumpy asked the police to remove the cat, to which Officer Martinez responded, “Phew, sure, once you dispose of that shirt.”
This issue of the Community Bulletin is sponsored by “Johnson’s Fun Guys”. Amma would like to remind you that mushrooms go great in soups, sauces, and salads. Be sure to see the new mycology exhibit at the Natural History Museum, and check out her entries at the fair later this month.
