Ann
Ipock
Humorist,
author, speaker
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Georgetown Times
Dangers almost
halt yard work
By Ann Ipock April
19, 2005
Ever since I read that pine nuts (and not money — darn it!) grow
on trees, I’ve been outside, inspecting my pine trees. At about
$20 per pound, I’d be a millionaire if I harvested a crop. Not really;
but I have been working in the yard picking up those prickly, ugly, menacing
monstrous byproduct of pine trees — pine cones.
I can’t figure out what purpose pine cones serve other than to provide
the seeds for new pine trees, and thus, produce even more irritating pine
cones. It’s truly a vicious cycle. Seems to me like those cute little
pine tassels — the stage before the pine cone — could just
as easily do the job. I can’t stand pine cones!
Even when we wear gloves, those sharp edges cut and maim innocent gardeners
like myself. I’ve made it my personal mission in life (or at least,
in my yard) to get rid of them. I’m aware that the simplest solution
would be to cut down all of our pine trees; but since we have nearly 30
of them, we’ve never called the tree man. I figure for what it would
cost us to get rid of them, we could buy a new lot, clear ALL pines, and
build a new home!
Now, oak trees — oh honey, that is an entirely different matter.
I love oak trees! They are regal, massive and sturdy. Plus, they have
withstood the test of time — living to be several hundred years
old. I’ve often said I would buy a lot or existing home just to
enjoy the “right” oak tree. They are one of many outdoor plants
— along with magnolias, gardenias and camellias — that represent
the Old South so well. There’s nothing prettier than a tree-lined
dirt lane with massive oaks on either side.
After our extremely windy March, Russell (my hubby) and I have been trying
for days to restore our yard to something that resembles a lawn —
rather than a forest, which it had turned into. We’ve picked up
limbs, leaves, assorted trash and — yes, pine cones, until our backs
are breaking and our hands are raw. I almost didn’t insist upon
the spring yard cleaning this year because I’ve been reading and
hearing about wild critters nearby that — well, quite frankly, frighten
me.
I read in the newspaper recently where a woman in a nearby county was
“attacked” by a bobcat. Aside from the obvious danger, it
made me wonder: what, exactly, is a bobcat? It is like a raccoon, a possum,
a squirrel, or a regular old house cat?
I’ve lived in the South all my life; and sure, I’ve heard
of bobcats from time to time, but I’ve never seen one. I’ve
seen plenty of squirrels and deer, rabbits and even wild turkeys; but
no bobcats. And, what is this creature’s real name — bob-
cat sounds like a nick name!
In the “woman versus bobcat” article, I read where this woman
courageously (but unwisely, in my opinion) fought off this bad-boy bobcat
for a solid 15 minutes with a rake. Luckily, her neighbor came to her
rescue. The 60-something year old woman in peril certainly put up a courageous
fight; but, for what? Well, it turns out she was protecting puppies that
the bobcat was annoying.
She spotted the animal from her window and went outside under her own
free will, to protect the pups. But, people, listen up! She wouldn’t
be around long enough to watch these puppies grow (much less protect them)
if the bob cat had had his way. No siree.
If I ever see a wild animal outside my window, I’m calling a game
warden or an animal control officer — somebody! Anybody with power
— but I’m not going to take the matters in my own hands, rake,
or no rake.
Then another nature scare: My next door neighbor, April, my sweet friend
with the gorgeous, thick hair and the lovely singing voice, called me
over the weekend, nearly in hysterics, asking me a strange question: Had
I seen any snakes in my yard? Eeeeeew! I told her about three years ago
I saw a small snake near our heat pump, but he slithered away. In a high-pitched,
nervous tone, April told me she had seen not one, but two snakes within
three days of each other, in her yard. She killed them both because she
was pretty sure they were poisonous. Then she asked me did I know what
a poisonous snake looked like. I said I sure did: “Scary!”
Between prickly pine cones, beastly bobcats and scary snakes, maybe I
should stay in the house permanently. That’s a shame, since spring
just officially sprung! Well, I could always put up a sign like I did
when I was 5 years old.
I walked into the house one day and asked my Mama how do you spell “allowed?”
She asked me why I wanted to know and I said, “Because I’m
making a sign to put on the clothes line that says, ‘No bees allowed!’
”
Y’all, I wished I hadn’t told you that. I forgot that the
season for honeybees, wasps and hornets is just around the corner! If
it’s not one thing, it’s two, or three, or four!