Road Trap

4:30 never came so early.  We headed out to try to be around the Greensboro airport around 8 or so.  I spent the morning alternating between stuffing the HugeAssCar full of our necessary crap (which had clearly been frolicking together while we were out, and had now multiplied into roughly 8 metric tons of God only knows what), and shouting words of encouragement to our little gerbils.  I explained that in this economy, no one gets a free ride and someone had to pay for that grass they were eating, so they better get out there and attract some serious birdage.  They were still a little sleepy but I am pretty sure they got it.

And we got to the airport around ten…  that weird NC time phenomenon was clearly back in full swing.  No hawks seen except one hag sitting on a billboard in downtown.  Al was sweating a little bit by now because, while I believe everyone was pretty comfortable with Rich’s fate, I must have said something else under my breath.  Maybe it was the fact I was quoting passages from the Shining… I don’t know but it was a little tense in there until we saw our first passage RT.

There he was sitting up on a pole and everyone in the car saw it at the same time.  Rich tossed the trap as we passed (with a few words to the gerbils to “remember the Alamo”) and he swooped down before the trap touched the ground and hit it like a runaway freight train.  He was snared immediately (damn fine trap!) and I am pretty sure that I beat Hussein Bolt’s best time in the hundred-yard dash getting back to him.  The bird was a little pissed, I’ll give you that.  I suppose being denied a nice late breakfast, shoved into panty hose that is way too tight, and locked in a closet can be a bit of a dampener on one’s day.  Al said something similar happened to him once but he didn’t want to elaborate.

Taking my new prize off of the trap revealed feet that would have made Shaq jealous.  A few little bites on these honking huge feet told me I had a hunter on my hands but the sharp keel made us all nervous.  Trap weight at the roadside was 36 ounces and the great debate over the bird’s sex was begun.  Great bird but most importantly Sweet Vidication of my trap making prowess!!!!!

The rest of the day was mostly a blur.  A lot of passage birds seen but only one more interested in our traps and the pigeon harness nooses failed to hold.  On the ride home, Laura’s question haunted me a bit.  I had caught my bird on the very first trap I had made =).

We stopped once at one of Rich’s friends houses (yes, I was surprised too) and Rebel got his new furniture.  Al helped me attach the anklets, bells, and jesses after I promised to sign the restraining order, and we got Rebel on the glove.  He baited a bit at first, but was able to regain the glove immediately, which was pretty impressive.  We also stopped at Fred’s house where Rebel was pronounced rather definitively a boy.

Back in the truck looking to trap more birds, found us instead trapped by Johnny Law outside Winston-Salem.  I am pretty sure that that ticket saved Rich’s life, as he was driving at the time, and my newly restored sense of Karmic justice, combined with the all-is-right-with-the-world sense of calm that comes from a mission accomplished, made the debacle of Monet’s Dump almost forgivable.