Working with animals

Jennifer is deciding to maybe take a different track when looking for a summer job. Instead of working at fast food places, she's wondering if a zoo, aquarium or some other animal-related endeavor. I agree. Who wants to work at Abercrombie when you can work with a bald eagle, whales or cats/dogs that need a home.

What should I do about this opossum that's in the middle of the road?

That is what I called Jennifer about (hand free, mind you) yesterday as I went home from work.

I was going up Interstate 5, between Federal Way and Kent to pick her up at Kent Station, when I saw something swaying in the middle of the road. At first I thought it was a piece of paper, or whatnot, but as I came closer, at bumper to bumper 60mph, I realized it was a young opossum in the middle of the freeway - and I say that literally, on the white strip, with two lanes on one side and two lanes on the other.

HOW it got out there without getting hit was beyond me, tho it looked like something had nicked a leg. At any rate, the poor creature was swaying from side to side trying to figure out which way to jump (the smart answer would be neither a or b)

I drove on up the road, debating whether to pull over and back up. But then what? The traffic was thick and fast, so there was no way I was getting to it. And if I circled back and tried to pick it up, while what- driving 60mph with my door open I'd probably cause an accident myself or end up squashing it. Indiana Jones I am not.

So that's when I called Jennifer.

"What did you tell me this for!! Now I feel bad too!" she cried over the phone. But then she assured me that really, no there was nothing I probably could have done.

Later that night, when the family sent me out for ice cream at Dairy Queen, I sneaked over and swiped around again, and didn't even see a smear mark (again, I was asking myself what exactly I intended to do if I found it half dead in the middle of the road- run over it and put it out of its misery? Could I really do that?)

Just as I convinced myself a miracle had happened and the thing had actually escaped, I saw a huddle near the road, quite a bit north from where I remember the critter being, and curled up by the side of the road. So maybe it did make it the side, got hit and went flying? I didn't stop to check to see if this was the opossum I saw, since I probably couldn't figure it out anyway.

I called Jennifer again to tell her why I was late going home with the ice cream.

"You checked on it didn't you?"

Guilty.

Jennifer against the ducks

Jennifer called as I was travelling home Friday to say, could I please get her some new jeans and shoes.

She and her boyfriend Adam were down at Mill Creek Park off Scenic Hill, watching two batches of mallard chicks mix and mingle. Until the daddy duck of one batch started trying to drown one of the younger ducks from the other. And the older chicks (probably about a week or two older) followed suit.

So Jennifer, defender of the underdog (or duck) jumped in the pond to help the younger ducks (which still had slashes of yellow on them). They fled in terror from their huge benefactor into a drainage culvert. The mom of of the younger ducks decided to take offense and attack Jennifer. But at least her babies weren't getting picked on anymore. But Jennifer was covered with mud. Adam was trying to keep an eye on the angry mother duck.

Ah, a daughter after my own heart.

Mom, it can't have hurt that much!

Jennifer and I had a go at parakeet rescue last week, during the heat wave, when I managed to spill her entire Starbucks drink onto the drive way, and saying a few choice words, marched back into the house to get a paper towel to clean it up.

When I came out, a parakeet was in the middle of it, helping himself and didn't seem to have any intention of flying away.

I finally caught the bird, who was happily snacking away on our lilac tree, when it first went limp (oh gawd, I killed it) and them promptly bit me. Dammit.

It flew away into the nearby pine trees, and finally flew down, only to have the neighborhood cat swallow it whole (or try). Jennifer rushed over and told fat millie to "drop it" which, surprisingly, she did.

The slime-covered bird looked dead, but when Jennifer handed it over to Gary, it promptly bit him. Back up into the pine trees it went.

Eventually we found the owners, who came to look. No bird. But finally Jennifer spotted it again, sleeping on the ground (not wise for a cat-heavy neighborhood like ours). She picked it up with the towel (which it constantly tried to chew through) and gave it back to the Latino family down the street.

The young man took it, it tried to bite him. But he couldn't chew through the callouses. Back into the cage he went.

Next time we try to rescue a bird, Jennifer lectured, suck it up and keep a hold of it.