Daytime job is a minuscule state park squeezed between farmlands and the city next door. It's postage stamp size, too small to be called home to most of the wild critters migrating in and out of our area on a daily basis in their continuous quest of food and shelter. Bambi, Thumper, and Flower don't camp out here, they never have, they never will. We have no humanized, talking, joking, reminiscing, doe eyed, chubby cheeked, daily honeydo's list type of creatures in these neck of the woods.
They have teeth that can crunch a finger just like cracking a nut, claws that can forge furrows on body parts just like tearing food apart, and hoofs that can whip the tar out of one just as well as spring themselves over a fence. We get requests to remove skunks that are foraging for eats through the camp areas, and gently must remind the campers that THEY are the visitors, not the skunks. We are asked what we're going to do about the ticks, fleas, and chiggers...especially the ticks as they are more readily visible. We're going to do NOTHING, again, you're visiting their home, enjoy-ha ha.
Suppose - you can spray your campsite, that's quite fair; but when it comes to the area at large and the trail you might hike, you'd best be spraying that repellent and insecticide on yourself to escape any insect munching, as you're so delectably delicious to all those thousands upon thousands of waiting beasties. And just in case you didn't know, ticks hang out in the cedars and junipers, and readily drop onto your head or shoulders whenever they so desire dinner.
City folks will freak out when Bambi or Rascal the raccoon ups and dies. Hey folks, all things die at some point in their lives, get real...but still we have to discreetly, if possible, place the carcass hidden from view of innocent eyes and brains. I deal with all the bad, if you can call real life bad, so you can experience all the good nature offers. I have to deal with realistic, so you can play with fantasy. I go home mentally fatigued and sometimes carry a heavy heart; you go home carefree and happy as a blood gorged tick on a warm summer day.
So thank you, Mr. Disney, for making me explain over and over again why those misguided souls need to leave that cute little fawn curled up in the weeds, staying a cute little fawn curled up in the weeds. It's not abandoned, it's just the way of doe's. And thanks again, Mr. Disney, for making me explain over and over again, this ain't no zoo, so quit feeding the animals, cause your creating a false bond of security, and setting the poor tyke up as a target for that human who isn't so kind, or wants to sink their teeth into that roasted marinated carcass adorning their dining room table. And lastly, from the bottom of my heart; thanks again, Mr. Disney for all those idiotic camping ADULTS who still haven't grown up, and try to treat nature like it's one of your childish cartoons. AAAAAAACCCK!!!
My, oh my, what a wonderful day
Plenty of sunshine headin' my way
My, oh my, what a crappy old day
Plenty of garbage headin' my way