With convention just around the corner, I thought I share this tid-bit
on the native wildlife in southern Indiana. Now my pioneer ancestors,
saw fit to hunt the wolf, bear, lynx and the puma to extinction, not
near extinction but down right eradicated them from the state of
Indiana. One hasn't been sighted since the late 1800's. I however,
would welcome them back, especially here in the city where they might
help with the rampant gang problem. Anyway... there are the
occasionally bob-cat reports and rattle snakes were better at hiding
too during this time of extermination.  With this in mind and my
general confinement to the concrete jungles of urban Chicago, I will
occasionally escape to southern Indiana for hiking, camping and caving.
Once while poking around in a bed-rock edged ravine out in the Hoosier
National forest I came across a hole in the rocks with feathers and
other bric-a-brac of dead things, when a horrible and blood curdling
hiss emanated from the whole. Leaping back, thinking that Mr. Bobcat
was home, I caught a glimpse of the snowy-white fluff-covered vulture
chick that was tucked away in the alcove.

Another wild-life encounter, and the center of why I hate established
campgrounds relates to the following: Some fellow cavers and I were
camped at Spring Mill near Mitchell, IN one weekend. One had brought
his small and squat black dog and would generally hang out under a
table waiting for food to be dropped. This was a habit at home and the
dog followed it there in the wilds of tent camping site 14-north. So as
I stood at the table fixing a bagel, the dog was busy chewing on
something that had been dropped previously. I was unconcerned until I
saw the dog sleeping over by the tents. At this point, doubting the dog
had cracked some theory of quantum mechanics and was both under the
table and sleeping at the tent I rechecked my observations. Dog by tent
- check. At this point, I re-observed the dog's doppelganger and
noticed what I failed to see before: a white strip. Adrenaline kicked
in and picked the flight option, leaping backward I screamed "skunk".
This reaction is much better than a later skunk encounter, where my
sister shot back hollering "squirrel". Granted that was in Colorado,
may be she knew something I'd missed in my encounters with rodents of
North America but she knew it was a skunk and was at a loss for a
better, more apt word.


--- Bill Bentley <[email protected]> wrote:

> Summer 1993 Midnight Canyon in Carlsbad Caverns National Park.
> I once poked a stick in a crevice where I saw bird feathers near.
> There was
> a really loud hissing noise coming out of the small cave crack. Later
> I
> found out that mountain lions or wildcats have been reported in that
> area.
> Reflections later....Probably on the long list of stupid things you
> do in
> your life...
> Bill



 - Jack Wood 

University of Illinois at Chicago
Earth and Environmental Sciences Department
845 W. Taylor Ave. (M/C 186)
Chicago, IL 60607
(312) 413-9695





       
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