A Long Post With No Pictures About A Very Long and Weird Ride Home.

5:00 PM, St. Augustine, FL…

I start the big F-250 and back down the driveway of my parent’s home, keeping an eye on the tied down metal structure filling the truck bed. It quivers and shakes as the truck rolls out onto the street.

I had spent most of the day salvaging a small, 4 x 6-foot greenhouse frame from my brother’s house. I thought that would be an easy job… the frame is pretty lightweight after all. What I had not counted on were the tree roots that had grown over the bottom frame pieces, effectively tying it to the Earth. 

It had taken most of the afternoon to wrench it from the nearby trees embrace, but at last, it was secured to the truck bed and I was heading home.

As I accelerated onto the highway, the rusty, battered old greenhouse frame swayed with each lane change and turn. Before long, a piece of side frame snapped and dangled in the wind. Ugh, this was going to be a long ride.

Little did I know …

The ride home normally takes a little over 2 hours. I passed through tiny communities like Spuds, Elkton, and Hastings, and then over the mighty St Johns River and into Palatka.

Traffic was light and in no time I was beyond Palatka, heading west on State Road 100.

State Road 100 is a 2-lane rural highway and the scenery is mostly pine trees … pine trees in the dark at this point in the day.

I tuned into NPR, set the cruise on moderately fast, but not fast enough to destroy the flimsy greenhouse in the truck bed, and settled in for the long haul. Except for the worrisome greenhouse frame, this was all part of the normal drive home routine.

That “routine” would come to a full stop a few minutes outside Palatka.

A “clank” from behind me made me glance into the rearview mirror just in time to see a piece of greenhouse frame break free and drop into the truck bed.

"Well great..."

I looked forward again just in time to see three cars ahead of me doing a simultaneous, seemingly choreographed movement. 

One went left, while another went right, and a third went straight ahead. All of them pulled off the road … and one of them went into a ditch. I realized at that moment that I had looked forward from the rearview mirror just in time to see the immediate after-effects of a collision!

All 3 cars were stopped, and no one was getting out.

By now I was on the scene. I slowed, crept past the farthest car, and pulled over. I got out and went to the first car, a black car with dark windows that were up. 

I rapped on the window and shouted, “Are you okay?” Through the dark glass, a head nodded yes. The window stayed up.

I left car number one and headed to car number 2,... the ditch car. The front was heavily damaged and steam was billowing out from the crumpled hood. As I approached, doors opened and a young boy and an older woman stepped out. She seemed shaken and a little unsteady.

“Are you okay? The boy nodded yes and the woman did the same, but added, “I’m so sorry.” She had called 911. I left them and crossed the highway to the third car.

Traffic continued to whiz by and no other vehicle stopped during this time.

As I crossed the road, I could hear weeping coming from the open driver side window. The back of the car was crunched pretty badly.

Even though I had not witnessed the actual collision, it was easy to piece the chain of events together through the damage to each car. I’m pretty sure that the older woman struck the rear of the car I was now approaching, which then struck the first car I had contacted.

In the third car, a very pregnant young woman sat behind the wheel crying. Her husband was on the phone, calmly relaying information about her to what I assumed was the 911 operator or EMS. (He was busy, but nodded yes when I asked if they had called 911).

I asked if they were okay, and she looked at me with anguish on her face and weeping, said, “I’m pregnant with twins.”  Feeling especially helpless at that point, and knowing they were in phone contact with a medical professional, I went back across the street to check on the older woman who was on her phone and leaning against the car. The middle school age boy said, “We’re okay” and thanked me.

Far down the long straight road, I could see emergency lights on their way, as I walked back towards my truck. At the dark first car, the passenger, a tall woman,  was standing next to the car. I couldn’t see the driver, but she said they were okay. She asked about the other folks and I filled her in briefly. 

As I drove away, I replayed the events in my mind. I know I was right to stop, even though not another car did while I was there. I felt pretty helpless every time I thought about that pregnant mom to be.

I could not get her anguished face out of my head and knew my wife, Liz, the 30+ year experienced nurse would have known exactly what to do and say to soothe her.  

My skill set is limited to CPR and basic first aid, but everyone appeared to have no obvious outer injuries, so that wasn't needed.

My brain kept playing it all back as I drove and after a while, the drive returned back to normal … almost routine.

I passed through Florahome, Putnam Hall, and Melrose in short order. It was dark now and the occasional street light showed me that the greenhouse was still there behind me.

I slipped through Gainesville pretty efficiently and was now more than halfway home and heading west on State Road 26. 

Then, suddenly, somewhere between Newberry and Trenton, “Routine” took another hiatus. My phone rang. It was Liz.

“Hey, where are you?” she asked.

“Just west of Newberry”

“Can you help me with something on the way home?”

She explained that a friend of ours had called her, distraught over news she had just received.

Their adopted “farm dog” had been struck and was dead in a ditch just outside the farm where it lived. The farm is a few miles away from our friend’s homestead and age and health issues prevented either one of the owners from recovering the dog.

The thought of their beloved dog lying dead in a ditch was heartbreaking for them… could we help?

“Can you help me do this?, I know you worked all day at your brothers”

So, true confession … I let out a huge sigh... before saying, “Yes, give me directions, … and bring a shovel and that Ryobi battery-powered work light. I have heavyweight extra large plastic bags in the truck.” 

I got to the farm first and slowed to search for the poor dog. She was easy to spot, a big black lump in the green grass by the road. When Liz arrived, we bagged the dog and did a team lift up into the bed of the truck.

At the couple’s home, Liz sat inside with the distraught owners while I drove across the property to a spot the owner had chosen. In the dark, under a spreading Live Oak, I set the work light up and began to dig in the circle of light it cast.

As I lifted each shovel of dirt, I thought about the strange events of this very long drive home.

Weirdly, I had thought a wobbly old greenhouse trying to blow apart in the truck bed would be the night’s challenge. Boy was I wrong…

I widened and deepened the grave until it was a good 4 feet deep and big enough for this good old dog. I didn’t know her, but I know she was loved by the 2 people crying in the house behind me.  With the hole dug, I lowered her gently into the ground and refilled the grave. 

I smoothed the fresh dirt into a neat mound and said not a prayer, but one last, “Good Girl”... and then the task was done. 

At that moment, it seemed like every dog in the neighborhood began to howl.  The sound started slowly, more dogs joined in, it rose, and then faded away.

I leaned against the shovel, mouth wide open … Dogs, how do they know?

I tossed the shovel into the back of the truck and the light on to the seat. I texted Liz that I’m done and heading out. She says she’s staying to chat with the couple a little longer as they are still upset.

So again, I am driving home, but this time I’m only about 15 miles away and seriously, what else could happen in the next 15 minutes or so?

… and then my phone rings. It’s Liz.

“Did I leave my keys in the truck?”

“I don’t think so, you really weren’t in the truck.”

I pull over under a street light in Chiefland and rummage around for her big pink key ring.

No luck. 

I call her back. She hasn’t found them either.

I turn the truck around and head back, 6 miles to the couple’s home. We both look through the van but fail to find the keys. 

“They’ll turn up tomorrow,” I say as I pull my van key off my key ring. 

“See you at the house.”

This time, I actually make it to my own driveway before the phone rings.

Oh hell no …

It’s Liz, and she sounds happy.

“Guess what!” she says.

“I’m afraid to,” I reply.

“ I went through McDonald’s to get an ice tea and the drive-through girl said, “Hey lady, your keys are on the car hood!”

“Well, we didn’t look there,” I say as I open the house door.

Bear is there to greet me with a shoe in his mouth, his tail wagging so vigorously that his sister Coquina is squinting as he whacks her face over and over. I get down on the floor and hug both of them tightly.  I can feel routine seeping back into my body.

Home at last.

BEAR'S SURPRISE

Bear the Labrador secretly brings something home from our walk. 
The video tells the tale this time.

The Perils Of Being A Private Trail Pooper In Rattlesnake Country

PFHQ sits smack in the middle of 10 acres of Florida oak and palm hammock, and those 10 acres are just one small piece in a much larger forest owned by other folks.

We'll call them "neighbors" although I hardly ever hear or see any of them.

Point is, PFHQ is no island. 

Lots of wildlife move under, through, and over the patchwork of fences that delineate our little human kingdoms.

Most of that wildlife is welcome here, and those that aren't are not summarily executed...even the dangerous ones.

Over 30 years, I've taken the time to move coral snakes and even a rattler to bigger, safer, wilder places...like our 20 acre pine plantation a few miles from here.

I've taken in less dangerous refugees too and released them here at PFHQ.

You walk a fine line when you try to live and let live with rattlesnakes though. Mostly, I never see them. Yet, I know my 10 acres is ideal habitat for them with a mix of open and forested land, a pond, palmetto patches, and gopher tortoise burrows.

Last year, I found a 5 foot freshly shed diamondback skin draped over saw palmetto fronds ... it was still moist.

Not counting the pygmy rattler I relocated last year, it has been years since I've come across a rattlesnake on the property.

Until today.

He's beautiful.

He's also dead.

Here's why...

We have 2 Labs, Bear and Coquina.

The dogs and I walk our woodsy trails multiple times each and every day. 

I always walk them on two 15 foot retractable leashes because the property is not perfectly fenced and they are big powerful dogs who I would never catch if they gave chase to the deer that frequent PFHQ.

Plus, if they were roaming about during the warm months, unsupervised, they could easily come across a diamondback in the scrub or a moccasin by the pond.

Bear has a particular peculiarity that adds a little more danger to this scenario.

He is the most private pooper I have ever seen. Coquina will drop a load just about anywhere away from the house, but Bear ALWAYS has to go behind a tree, a bush, or most scary, into the palmettos to poop usually with his back to me.

Never had a dog that was such a shy shi... well, you know.

So, he basically goes into the most likely rattlesnake places each time he poops. I use the leash to limit how far into the bush he goes for his constitutional.

I was home sick with a nasty sore throat and cold today, so we took more walks than normal. On our midday walk, Bear stopped to investigate a tiny clump of brush. Coquina carried on down the trail just a bit until the two of them had me straight armed like a cross with Coquina ahead and Bear behind.

I told Coquina to stay and turned to urge Bear to come on.

As I did, He jumped back and the buzz of a diamondback filled the air. Curious, he stepped forward, ears up, as the snake buzzed and struck.

The snake missed, partly because Bear had not regained his original position and partly because I came close to jerking Bear's head off via the leash.

It was WAY too close.

Ahead of me, Coquina heard the commotion and dashed back to Bear's side, so now I had both of them in the danger zone.

Luckily, Bear responded to "LEAVE IT!", (thank you Petsmart, puppy obedience school!)

I checked Bear thoroughly while the snake continued to buzz, and then ran them both back to the house where I checked him over and over again for any signs of a hit.

There was none and he was his usual frisky self at post walk treat time.

About 15 minutes after getting him back to 

the house ... AFTER I was sure he was fine, 

I went back into the woods with my Glock and located the snake. It was about 10 feet from where we had encountered him.

I wasn't in "live and let live" mode ...

Like the human death penalty laws, this wasn't about justice or prevention, it was about vengeance.

Simple angry vengeance.

The rattler had only done what instinctively, (and I would argue innocently) all rattlers do in defense, ... I know that. The rational me knows that.

I just wasn't in a rational mood at the moment.

Tonight, I can lie on the floor in the living room and rub this sleepy face,and more so than usual, I know how special that simple pleasure is.

A PURE POND-DOG POST

When Emma called and said, "Hey do you think we could get the dogs together for a play day?",  I immediately said agreed.

"The dogs" = Bear, Coquina, Peanut, and Bandit, one of the funniest canine packs I've ever hung with.

It was August, hot and steamy as August should be, and the pond was freshly filled after 2 weeks of near tropical rains.

(This is the same pond that I feared would dry up completely back in early July.)

Coquina was the first in as usual. She is part otter after all.
You'll notice in this picture and the ones to follow that the pond surface is covered in green.


This was a little disconcerting to some of my Facebook pals when I posted a pic of Coquina and I there. The green is just duckweed, a tiny 2-leaved floating plant. It's not a noxious algae or anything icky ... in fact, right now the duckweed is doing me a bodacious favor by shading out the pond and light-starving the bad guy algae from growing.
So no more dissing my duckweed!

This smiling wonderdog is Peanut and he is Coquina's biological sister. Like Coquina, he's a little bit cray-cray.

Peanut was definitely the best "getter of things tossed". His sister gave him a run for his money, but he consistently got to the old boat fender first.

In the background, THE BEAR has finally entered the water. He held back at first while the pups crashed and splashed, but after about 10 minutes of his black fur soaking up that Florida sun, he came in to play.

This is Bear "half-cocked" and about to launch an ambush on Coquina and crew. I love that intent look, ... but I love all his looks, so that statement probably doesn't carry much weight.

I love to see Bear run like a puppy.
He wasn't always the "ambusher" on this day, sometimes he was the "ambushee".

Yin Yang.
Forces that seem in opposition that are actually complimentary to each other.
That's Peanut and Coquina.

A few things come to mind when I look at this picture of Peanut erupting from the pond to snatch the boat fender.


One: Peanut is awesome!
Two: Jurassic World.
Three: I am instantly transported back to the Homosassa Springs attraction of my childhood. The handlers there had trained these big alligators to leap vertically out of the water for a piece of chicken. It was pretty impressive.

Peanut on the edge ...

Not seen in this picture is Emma pushing on Peanut's hindquarters.
He's staring at the boat fender toy which is just out of reach and he wants it bad.
But he's never jumped off the dock before, so he's having second thoughts.
Emma helped him make a decision by giving him a little nudge... um, it may have been a shove.

(Note: Even though this was just last week, the pond water has risen now to a point where Peanut's nose would be just touching the surface today.)

Here's Coquina getting the same decision making help from Emma.
Little did Coquina know that I was lurking nearby in "Duckweed Stealth Mode".

As soon as she hit the water, I emerged and snatched her up.

Or did I?
The hat in this pic seems dry and unweeded.
Hmmm...

After watching Peanut and Coquina get tossed off the dock, Bear strolled out onto the planks and did his best impression of a REAL BEAR, as if to say, " Yeah, just try that dog tossing thing on me."

We did not.

So what about the 4th dog, the one who shows up in the previous photo collection only as a headless body?

This is the guy.
Bandit.
He played just as hard that day ... maybe harder since he is closer to the ground with shorter legs than the rest of his pack.
He's just as happy,sweet, and lovable as this photo makes him out to be.

Bandit's cute mug seems like a great way to end this photo essay and so I will.

HAGEN'S COVE... PARADISE IS WORTH THE DRIVE

Hagen's Cove is a public park just north of the picturesque town of Steinhatchee, Florida. 

It's a long way from just about anywhere, but that's a plus in my book.

The park allows the public access to a large shallow bay on the Gulf.

The size and shallowness of this bay is what makes it such a dog friendly place. You can spread out with your pups and not be a bother to the dogless folks.

We kept our furry companions close leashed as we walked out past the shoreline sunbathers and waders.

Once we were far out in the bay, yet still in clear knee deep water, we let those doggies run!

But enough of my view, I'll let the dogs tell the story. It was their day in the sun after all...

Bear: "Well, at first we were on the leash, and it was fun and all, but little did I know we would be leashless in just a few moments.
I led the way of course, being senior in command."

"FREEDOM!  FOLLOW ME PUPS!"

"We were like a pack of wolves, ...SEAWOLVES!"

Coquina: "Let me tell the story Bear, ... remember the shark?
Bear: "Yes, that kind of freaked you out."

Coquina: "We were all having fun and then Peanut's Momma Emma casually pointed out a shark swimming between us."

Peanut: "Heh, I'll never forget the look on your face Coquina!   Priceless... "

"SSSSShark?"

"Run away, Run away!"

Bandit: "It was just a bonnet shark, but any excuse for a run is a good one!"

Coquina: " At least I didn't go hug my Momma afterwards Bandit."

Bandit: "Hugging your Daddy is pretty much the same thing, Coquina."

Bear: "It was a fun splashy day, even if Emma would not let me eat that hermit crab she found."

Peanut: "It was awesome, even if we all drank too much saltwater... right Coquina? ..."

Coquina: "I only threw up about a gallon back on shore Nut!"

Bandit: "After a while, we were all worn out and just floated around chilling on a beautiful day. My legs are kind of short, so I did more floating than the rest of you."

Peanut: "I liked it when Emma found the horseshoe crab and I got to check it out.  First I smelled it. Then I tried to taste it, but it was all wiggly with lots of pointy pokey parts."

Bear: "I think it was glad to get away from you when Dad released it"

Coquina: "Back on shore, we releashed, but I didn't mind much, because I was so tired and thirsty.
Bear: We went through a gallon of water pretty fast. More bowls next time Humans!"

Upper Left: "Bear"
Upper Right:" Bandit"
Lower Left:" Coquina"
Lower Right:" Peanut"

Thank you puppies for the Hagen's Cove interview. It was an awesome day.

If you are going to Hagen's Cove, I'm sure you will GPS map your route, but if you simply go north on highway 361 out of Steinhatchee, you'll get there in about 20 minutes or less.

At the park, you'll find an observation tower, pavilions with picnic tables, water, and a composting toilet type of restroom.
Nearby is a small boat ramp, but be advised the cove's waters are very shallow.

Going in the fall and winter, maybe without your dogs, is an awesome time to see tons of migrating shorebirds.

Hagen's Cove definitely qualifies as "Pure Florida".

WORDLESS WEDNESDAY: COQUINA ROCKING THE POND