Into the Wild

Lock your doors, or else…

This morning I strolled back from the wood pile with two buckets of kindling in my hands when I almost tripped over a loafer. And I mean one of those moccasin-style shoes, not a lazy dude basking in the sun.

“What the heck?”. Yes , it was a single loafer, made from nice soft leather sitting all alone in the yard. Sure it wasn’t mine. I don’t posses such a nice piece of footwear sporting mostly white bunny boots or hip-high waders more recently. “Where did this slipper come from?”. Maybe it was there all winter covered with snow and we just didn’t see it? No, the shoe was too clean and shiny for that.

“What is that?”. There is another, non-matching shoe over there. Then I find a bottle of Johnny’s and some other knick knack. Somebody must have dropped that stuff in the middle of the lawn. Who? Well, it wasn’t me. That’s for sure. And it wasn’t Travis, either. We are the only humans within 30 miles or so. That leaves an intruder, or…

I walk over to Buckey’s cabin our resident neighbor currently hunting grizzlies on Kodiak. His front door is ajar!

There you have it. Somebody got into the cabin and took at least 3 single loafers, seasoning salt, a whistle, a pistil, and some pieces of paper out of the trash. Well, no human with a sane mind would hike 30 miles across the tundra, take those items, drop them on the front lawn and move on.

I suspect the culprit is one those two:

foxy

thief

Over night the wind must have popped the front door open. One of the foxes must have taken this irresistible opportunity to slip inside and grab whatever looked or smelled the most appealing.

opportunistic:

exploiting chances offered by immediate circumstances without reference to a general plan or moral principle

Google

I am not sure what was so attractive about the three loafers, though, and what they had in mind with the seasoning salt…

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5 thoughts on “Lock your doors, or else…

    • Thinking like a fox? Maybe they ate the other three loafers (with seasoning) and were so stuffed that they left the rest. Did they, like real gourmets, sample three different loafers? How is that?

  1. Foxy fox may have thought those loafers could have been a good bite. But I guess he (or she) got second thoughts about that, and just left them in the open. Hope your neighbour don’t mind visitors when he is away…

    • I’ll ask him about that when he comes back. I already can hear him say: “Those damn foxes!”. Somebody suggested we give those foxes names: Mitten and Hat…
      After all, this is Alaska.

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