Red-blooded men!

The other day I was quietly sifting through a jumble of emails that have been calling out my name to be read for many weeks now. It seems that ever since the Presidential election I have been unwilling to read much that comes my way through such means. Either that or my love affair with Facebook has taken me from my first (and much simpler) love of email. That aside, I am not here to talk about relationships. I'm here to talk about the night I realized that I was a man.

The previous sentence, without any context, may seem rather risque. Thus, allow me to elaborate upon the circumstance in which I found myself. You see, I had the window in the computer room open so that I could experience the benefits of fresh air while I tried to wade through the stifling number of unread emails. The result of this was that I was able to hear any number of night time sounds that wafted into my ear canals. Imagine my reaction when I heard frantic squabbling coming from the chicken coop my landlady keeps on her property.

Being a responsible man and realizing that the chickens had not been locked up for the night, I figured that the source of their squabbling must have been either a raccoon or possum. I ran out of the house as quickly as my feet could take me and called upon Josh, the son of my friend and landlady, to come out with me as fast as possible with a flashlight.

The chickens were splayed around their cage and outside of their coop in various stages of shock and fright. My favorite, whom I call "Crazy Eyes McCluck" because of her crazy eyes and strange cluck, was almost comatose as her legs were locked in the upright position and her breast and head were sagging to the ground. Her wings were drooping to the ground and she was shaking slightly. She was a pitiful sight to say the least.

My manly instinct to protect chicks kicked in at that moment and with the help of Josh we managed to herd the ladies back into their coop and lock them up. Pushing them into their coop almost felt like the game "Whack a Mole" with them trying to leave as quickly as you herded them in. Now, chicken herding is fun and should become a national sport much as sheep herding is in the British Isles (see YouTube video) but I was half-naked without a shirt when the neighboring dog sent up a sharp growl at an avocado tree that grows inside of the cage.



A lonely leaf fell to the ground as I slowly looked up to the sound of soft rustling. I had figured that whatever creature had attacked the girls was long gone. I couldn't have been more wrong... I whispered to Josh for his flashlight and investigated the tree in my vulnerable and half-naked state. The beam alighted upon two specks of reflective, shiny blackness. To my horror and amazement, I saw looking back at me the two eyes of a raccoon the size of a medium-sized dog.

It's hands had the dimensions of a small child's.


Josh "oohed" and "aahed" and wished for a stick so that he would have the ability to beat the coon out of the tree. This reminded me of the two spears I had brought back from Uganda and I ordered Josh back into the house to grab them so that we could stab the raccoon and get it to leave the chicks alone. Soon, with spears and flashlights in hand, we began a systematic stabbing of the tree as we had lost sight of the animal. After spearing various branches, leaves and avocados I finally found the guy again and gave it a medium thrust to the belly (not a killing blow). Now terrified itself, and put in its proper place, the coon scampered away.

At the top of my lungs I bellowed a war cry that shivered the timbers of every tree and shriveled the lips of every marauding creature in the vicinity. I thrust my spear in the air and wiped the coons blood in swirling patterns upon my face. I erected a truly massive bonfire outside of my animal hide tent and watched my shadow dance with me late into the night. I poured smooth libations down my gullet in ever greater quantities as the gods looked down upon me in amazement. How can this not be the night when I became a man?