Davy Crocket's Got Nuthin' on Me!

I looked up to see who was the greatest Hunter ever.  And it was Davy Crocket.  (I'm guessing Daniel Boone's relatives might object, but then, they don't read my blog.)  Anyway, I think I'm just as good as Davy Crocket.  He hunted bear.  Anyone can hunt bear.  Me - I hunt Javelinas.

Mom likes to say, "He's on the track of Heffalumps."  I didn't know what a Heffalump was, but Mom says it was a big, scary animal in Winnie the Pooh.  She said it was the "biggest threat the Hundred Acre Wood ever faced:  Humongous, horrendous horrifying, huggable, Heffalumps."  So, yeah, maybe that's what I am doing.  I'm tracking the Heffalumps of Mohawk Lane.

We walk through the neighborhood and I can smell where they've been.  You see, I've run into at least 10 of the beasts.  So I know what they smell like.  And I have the very best sense of smell.  In fact, I have the most excellent sense of smell of anyone in the whole world ever.  (There is some guy on TV who says things like that, so I can too.!)

Yesterday, I smelled the Heffalump.  And then we saw his footprints.  Mom took a picture so she could prove to Dad that I did really track down the Heffalump.  

See those hoof tracks?  That's the Heffalump (I mean Javelina.  Mom has me so confused.)

Sometimes, when we go out in the afternoon (that's when they roam around) I stop and stare because I think I can smell them near.  Mom gets nervous then, I can tell.  She doesn't really want to run into one of them again.  They're not supposed to be aggressive if you leave them an exit, but if they did come after us --- they have really, really, really long sharp teeth.  We saw them when Mom did the Arizona Wildlife Project for my kids in the elementary school.  Those were some awful front teeth!

But I'm pretty good at warning Mom when they're close by.  My excellent sense of smell helps in that.  Just the other day, we went to the mail box, and I said, Mom, you better look around the side of the boxes.  And sure enough.  There was my HeffalumpJavelina.  But he hid his head before Mom could snap his picture.

I'm good at finding all sorts of denizens of the desert.  (Do you like that word?  Denizen.  I saw it when I was looking for what this was:

 This little guy (well he  wasn't so little, he was as big as Mom's hand) crossed the walking path right in front of us.  I would have stepped on him, but Mom grabbed my collar and yanked me back.  We all watched as he made his way across the path and on to wherever he was going.  Mom and me (that's not right, is it?).  Mom and I looked him up and we found that he was a male Desert Tarantula and not to be worried about 'cuz he was pretty harmless.  He was apparently searching for a mate.  That's pretty much all the males do, and then they all die by October.  How sad is that?    

So there you have my latest hunting episodes.  I bet Davy Crocket would be jealous of all the animals I've tracked down in the desert.  But then, he probably doesn't really care since he's not around anymore.  

But that leaves me as the greatest hunter on Mohawk Lane.  

Mom says I should stop sending these blogs because no one is going to want to come visit us ever.  But I know my Uncle and my Cousin are coming this weekend, and I bet they would LIKE to see my animal friends.

Please don't let our Denizens keep you away.  I love visitors.  

Love, G