good-bye to the (downward facing) dog days of summer

when the haggard, disheveled mountain biker finally crossed the finish line on saturday, he dismounted, shuffled several yards with intent and resolve, and ordered an angry minnow rye ipa. it was over. he had made it through his second season of riding a bike as fast as he could with other riders who were much faster than him.

beer never tasted so good.

it’s only the fourth night of banding and already, i am welcoming the rain which has thrown a curtain over the north shore. it’s not that i don’t want the owls to come, it’s just that i want them to come on my schedule and so far i have been lucky.

any doubts i had about the patina of banding wearing off have not surfaced. every night i am anxious, fretful, wondering if “this is the night when all hell breaks loose.” there are several of those every year…i think last year i had 4 nights with greater than 50 owls. if i am alone, i have no time to think…which is probably when i am most capable of profound thoughts.

thoughts just get in the way of things.

so far, i’ve only trapped 6 owls but with those six, my sleep schedule has been realigned by the circadian chiropractor. all summer i worked hard to sleep long octogenarian-type hours and now, if i get 5 hours i consider it a good night sleep.

if i sleep.

even after a short stint at the nets, i am adrenalinized and rest seems to not want to have anything to do with me.

today at work i told the courthouse’s perpetual whistler to stop his obnoxious whistling…not because i wanted to be a prick but because…once the sleep turns from deprivation to depravity, i don’t filter things so well.

maybe that’s why my high school guidance counselor told me to hope for a promising career as a diesel mechanic…you know…just nuts and bolts and oil and fuel.

and maybe some nascar on the week-ends.

but no, i didn’t listen to him because i knew better and lo and behold, i am here void of any mechanical aptitude and my primary hobby seems to be banding owls in my back yard at night and bitching at awkward whistlers during the day.

it’s raining now, and that is good on a night rain and fog seem so fitting.

rest in peace, kelly rauzi.

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About borealbilly

i am cursed by nocturnal self-awareness. View all posts by borealbilly

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