[at-l] Re: Animals at night

[winchester@unnet.com (Ron Winchester)]

Not discounting the sentient stragglers that make their way in the dark into
every campsite and shelter I stayed at in the Whites, my absolutely, mostest,
almost memorable night was spent at Antlers in 1999.  I took a couple days off
there to relax and enjoy the great company and weather, and enduring an evening
of Beorn's snoring seemed to be the only exception to a great stay, but that
another wildlife story unto its own.
The stars were brilliant and the air clean and crisp, so I decided to sleep
under the stars.  As evening began to take hold, the usual rustling in the
forest litter became ever more apparent, and realizing the residents of the
woods were comfortable in their wanderings was reassuring.
Sometime in the early morning a heavier paw roused my senses and caused me to
question what might be visiting my chosen turf.  Ta-ta -- ta-ta -- ta-ta --
ta-ta was the sound made by the inquisitive beast as it came nearer with each
pass only to scurry away with caution.  Soon, I again escaped the conscious
world to wander in hikes of dreams only to awaken to a scratchy tongue on my
salty face.  I froze in my nylon cocoon not knowing how to respond, the
sensation being that of a cat's lick against my whiskered cheek.  Was it a
porky or a skunk?
There was no odor, so I assumed it was a porky.  I strained to glimpse my
offender, but it was beyond the limits of my periphery.  I couldn't move, that
was certain, so I let out a yelp as loud as I could muster and the critter who
would've licked my salty hide clean scampered into the brush.
I never was quite sure what manner of beast became so bold that summer's dawn,
but I awoke that morning unscathed, and armed with one more offering in my
arsenal of trail experiences.

Ron