When we first met our little pup, Pumpernickel, she was living in a bucket with her siblings - their little bellies bloated with parasites (this is sadly, all too typical of Florida). She has grown up to be a very sweet and fearless doggie. Yesterday Dev and I recounted all the times we have saved her from impending danger.
This reminiscing was initiated by Pumpy deciding to take on a porcupine in our snowy woods. Not too long ago, I had been remarking that I never saw porcupines anymore. Well, yesterday I got to see one from about a foot away as I pulled Pumpy off of it. What amazing creatures they are. This encounter ended in an emergency vet visit for poor Pumpy.
Pumpy had a very lucky break in Florida when she happened upon an Agkistrodon piscivorous sunning itself on a patch of sand in the pine flatlands behind our house. We were surprised to see it a fair ways from the big swamp. But, it was without a doubt a real cottonmouth, which Pumpy confirmed by nose-bumping it twice, coaxing it to display its snow-white mouth. Dev roared and I rushed to pull her off it. Amazingly, it didn't strike at her - which is consistent with what I'd heard before - that they posture more than they bite.
Some weeks after that, I was shaken by almost stepping on a cottonmouth (perhaps the same individual!) crossing the trail and partially hidden in the grass. Pumpy was off-leash but I quickly called her too me before she discovered it. I took a short movie of the snake, which maybe I can post here later.
The most worrying time of all was when we were walking back from Lake Pithlachocco and Pumpy ran after several deer. This was soon after Hurricane Irma, and the swamps were overflowing and full of downed oak trees. We continued walking, for she usually came back after 10-15 minutes. This time, she didn't. Twenty minutes passed and we called for her. Suddenly, we heard terrible howling coming from deep, deep within the swamp. It was what I would expect the Hound of Baskervilles to sound like. Dev and I looked at each other with stricken faces and sprinted towards the swamp. Pumpy was smart and kept howling as we called to reassure her.
We came to the swamp. Though I knew alligators could be close, especially since it was dusk, I felt a fierce certainty that I would rescue her, and waded into the chest-deep water. I called to her as I climbed around downed trees, and heard her whimpering howl get closer. I didn't know what I'd find - the thought crossed my mind that she'd been injured by an alligator. Finally, I spotted her. Her little head was all that I could see, and the rest of her was underneath the water; she was clinging to a downed oak limb.
She was SO happy to see me, and was shaking as I pulled her out of the water. I carried her back to Dev, who was close behind and we safely exited the swamp. My gosh, she was spoiled that night and the following weeks. We had thought we might not see her sweet face again.
When I was doing field work in South Florida, Dev twice had to pull Pumpy away from some baby alligators in our woods - also no joke, since mama gators are scary when their babies are threatened!
Another time, Pumpy ran after a huge gator sunning itself on the edge of our pond behind the house. I screamed at her, and then ran away, hoping she would follow me without getting into the pond to follow the gator. Luckily she did.
We wonder what creature she'll find next in the woods of New York.
Comments