Ochlockonee's Deers and Squirrels - Friends of the Camper

Ochlockonee River State Park, located just outside Sopchoppy, Florida, is a definite gem in the state's park system. If you are a tent camper, sites 18 and 19 are a camper's dream come true. Nestled away in the pine forest and on their own little drive, campers will find these sites quite private and full of surprise visitors that are more than willing to share the campsite with you.

I've been a wildlife enthusiast my whole life and have often come in contact with "wild" animals that act tame. I've got a yard full of gray squirrels who think they are part of the family. They're as bad as my dogs, greeting me at the back door when I come home. I'd like to think they like me, but in truth I know it's because I'm the food wagon.

Night one at Ochlockonee brought Angela, the white-tailed deer into the campsite. She walked in and situated herself around the fire pit as if wanting to join in on the conversation. Smores was on the menu so naturally she was given an offering. To everyone's delight, Angela was quite pleased and gulped down what seemed like a pound of marshmallows. We figured she'd be dead of bloat in the morning. To our surprise, her friend Jessica joined in the fun. A bit more skittish than Angela, Jessica put on a brave face and joined us by the fire to eat marshmallows. Jessica and Angela made our evening complete.

The next day Dot came to visit (she had dots inside her ears) at breakfast. We could tell she was a southern girl and wanted some home cooking. Eventually she brought the others and off an on all day and the rest of stay the deers frequented our campsite. We were hand feeding them, even though we knew we shouldn't, you just couldn't resist. They all acted like pet dogs, greeting us when we came home. The deers ate good, consuming cheese grits, peanuts, crackers, red snapper, salad, sweet potatoes, corn and no camping trip would be complete without hotdogs.

We also had two gray squirrels that lived on opposite sides of the site about eight feet up in each tree. They were the fattest squirrels I'd ever seen in my life, with their bellies almost dragging on the ground. Each squirrel had to weight approximately 4 to 5 pounds. They were the most redneck squirrels you'd ever want to see with the fighting over who was going to get all the food. We named them Billy Bob and Bertha Bob Thornton. They were very friendly, crawling all over one person due to a sudden attraction to them. I'm not sure if the body odor was "Eau de Peanut", but something had those squirrels wanting to get up close and personal. The other little ones who tried to visit the site were quickly beat back by Billy Bob and Bertha Bob. They even tried to control Angela and her friends.

The white squirrels of Ochlockonee are infamous. Kept as pets and let into the wild by drunk partygoers leaving their cage open, they've lived at the park for 50 years. Of course one didn't show up until 15 minutes before we left. Whitie was quite beautiful with his black capped head and stripe down his back. A few years earlier they'd lived at site 18 but were no longer there. I figured Bertha Bob and Billy Bob had run them off. Not too many things could stand up against those too squirrels working together.

The stay reminded me of just how close to nature we could be if we tried. Thank goodness these animals are protected in a forest where hunting is not allowed, or they'd surely die. Their trust of humans is amazing. Whether it be for food, or just wanting to hang out, these deer and squirrels are quite trusting of mankind. It's was well worth the trip just to sit back and have nature calmly come to you. Spending a couple of hours hanging out by the fire drinking beer with a couple of deer, would change even the most hard hearted I'm sure. Looking into those eyes you see a certain innocence not found in the eyes of man.

Ochlockonee's animals I thank you for sharing yourselves with me and giving me an experience I'll remember for a lifetime.

Tumor Girl The Squirrel Lives!

Yes, you are probably wondering who the hell tumor girl is, aren't you? Well this is another squirrel story, though this isn't quite as dreadful as old "pop eye". As everyone probably knows already, my backyard and back porch are like a wildlife viewing area. All the varmints know when I arrive home and they congregate on the back porch waiting for me to give them food. If it wasn't bad enough to train my own dogs to train me, I've also trained the wildlife population around my house, both furred and feathered, to control me by feeding them on demand.

My girlfriend was over the other day and she was amazed. I'd just gotten home and she walked over. On the back porch I had several squirrels attached to the screen door, six or seven more waiting patiently for me by the sliding glass door, blue jays, doves and a rabbit. They all showed up within minutes of each other, waiting for their hand outs. Which makes me get off subject for a moment, but you would expect nothing less of me, if all those bastards can get along even if it's only at the dinner table, why in the hell can't we? Now back to my original ramblings.

Tumor girl, yes old tumor girl. I had this young female squirrel who started having this knot appear on her belly. At first I thought she'd been raped too young by the neighborhood tree gang, but then I knew it was something else. The knot grew out on the right side of her belly. Over about four weeks the thing had turned into the size of a tennis ball. The poor thing kept showing up to eat, but I was starting to see her bone structure. She looked so damn weak and this huge ball she was carrying around was definitely hindering her ability to walk or climb.

The last I'd seen of her was two weeks ago. She showed up and her poor little white belly was so stretched it had begun to turn purple. She ate her peanuts but I could see she visibly didn't feel well. I mean hell, it would be like having a basketball but bigger, injected into our ribcage. She was so bony looking. Then tumor girl didn't come back for almost a week and when she did, I felt horrible for her.

I figured whatever it was must have been like a cyst and had burst. There was this saggy skin where the huge ball had been and a large open hole. She was now really skinny but came to eat peanuts after all the other squirrels had left. I gave her extra, watching her chip away at the shell, quickly eating the meat inside. She must have eaten six before she'd had enough and left. I didn't think things still looked good for her. I couldn't believe she'd survived the cyst and then to survive the bursting of it. Post infection would now be her biggest enemy. I figured she'd now die because the big gaping hole would cause her to get an infection and die.

She showed back up yesterday, almost a week since I'd last seen her. Her hole was now closed and the spot was nearly healed. She looked as if she'd put on weight and was on the mend. I think I'll always have a special place in my heart for tumor girl and that's what she'll always be called. I don't believe the area will totally heal and she'll carry a scar, but what a tough little lady this squirrel was. I hope my daily handouts helped her through. It feels good knowing my human intervention can sometimes help nature thrive in my little piece of paradise. Tumor girl, you rock!

Cave Master Scores by Default..........Death by Heart attack

I love squirrels and anyone that knows me knows this fact. I have squirrel ornaments in every size, style and fashion adorning both the inside and outside of my house. I even have a loyal following of the real, live thing meandering throughout my yard. Some days I might have six and then the next all their cousin for Arkansas arrive and the feeding area will encompass 20. They all know me and know I'm good for food and peanuts.

I also love dogs. Presently three reside within my three bedroom ranch style house. One is the cave master....a pitbull who is the sissiest dog you've ever met. He'd kill you with kisses before he'd attack. His bark sounds bad but he'd much rather curl up in your lap and go to sleep. I also have two labs. The male is a great dog and could care less about the outdoor critters. The female needs to be on ritalyn and has approximately four rat kills under her belt. Both would never touch a squirrel. They know they are something of a pet to me.

Now the cave master....well he's addicted to the damn squirrels. I think they look like they're having so much fun he wants to play along with them. He's obsessed! Everyday all the squirrels line up at my backdoor for peanuts. There might be 10 different ones who come back four or five times for the hand outs. They climb on the screen and look at the cavemaster just inches from his face. He just watches in fascination, anticipating their arrival everyday.

One squirrel started showing up a couple of weeks ago with this big black ping pong ball sized lump next to her eye. She seemed ok, taking peanuts, but the black lump kept growing, starting to overtake her eye. Sunday she seemed a bit weak when she showed up for the peanut and the lump was huge. I had named her Popeye. Sick but that's the way I am.

Yesterday the cave master is let outside to go to their pen but he sees a squirrel and runs towards the side of the house into the flowerbed. I have some flower pots stacked up there and I see he's not attacking anything but has something cornered. I'm thinking it's a baby rabbit or squirrel...something that can't run fast enough. I call him off and I walk over to what he was looking at. Well, it was Popeye and she was on her last leg. Her eye was now totally taken over by the big black blob as was almost the whole side of her head. She stood up and stretched her arms out at me and then sat down and had a heart attack and died.

It was a weird experience and the little arm stretching thing I could have done without. I mean I didn't need all the drama from the dying squirrel. I figured when the cave master had cornered her she was so weak she just had a heart attack from fear. Hell, she didn't know he just wanted to be up close and personal. She was infested with fibromatosis virus. I thought it was a parasite but its not. Warbles are something else. This is a pox disease that infects many mammals, including us. Like the small pox or chicken. The dog earned a kill due to giving the poor thing a heart attack. No, I'm not for my dogs killing other animals. The female lab just can't help herself if a rat gets into the dog pen. Squirrels drink from their pool all of the time and they all just look at them.

She had an informal funeral by being placed inside of a plastic Winn Dixie bag and placed inside of the trash can in garage. She'll end up at the city landfill tomorrow. Another squirrel was walking by moments after she died and he looked over at her and made sure he walked a good distance around her. It was like he was even saying, "ick, she looks really bad and I wouldn't touch her with a stick".

Anyone interested in the virus, click on the link from the University of Florida by clicking on the title. Pretty interesting stuff, at least to a weird person like me.

New Beginnings and Oliver

She's gone. My daughter has finally exited our home and headed off to new horizons. She left at 18 to head to college but the last few years brought her to her childhood room to roost several times. This being the longest at eight months.

She set out years ago to reach her educational goal and though life threw her curve balls quite a few times....goddamn if she didn't make it. Of course with some help from mom and dad along the way. Hey, I can't help tooting my own horn because I'm proud of my daughter and her strength and determination to succeed. Just because she's twenty five doesn't mean mom and dad can't be an intelligent source for information about life and a good source for cash.

Through lost love, money, strife, timing belts, blown engines, catalytic converters x 2, belts, gas, sleep, living room carpet, rising food, health products, dog care, electricity, cleaning products bills, Ms. Menopause, feeling beaten down from work, over worked husband, disappointments and disillusionment's from ones close to my heart and all the usual crap that happens in my life....damn if I didn't make it out alive. Though it was touch and go for a few moments there.

I am proud of my daughter as she heads towards the career and new job she's worked so hard to achieve. I will miss our nightly chats about everything from screwed up men to screwed up friendships. I will miss our laughing till we cried over something the dogs did or we make them do. Screwing with the dogs has always been a favorite thing my daughter and I share. There are many things we share, the best of all is love and friendship. I am so damn fortunate to have her in my life. She gets me and loves me for who I am and she's also not hesitant in telling me when I'm screwed in the head. That's what you got to love about daughters. They can tell you what a shit head you are and somehow they'll never offend you or make you feel bad because they somehow know the right way to approach you. I guess because they are genetically a part of you.

I cried tonight to see my little girl drive off in her rental car heading into a new beginning of her life. I know everything is now on the right and is only going to get better for both of us. The strife we've been having through life having a shit attack on both our heads, is now going to go away. You see I'd been kidding her for weeks that when she gets to Orlando she's going to meet some short dude named Oliver and he's going to steal her heart. My kid has a thing for short guys and she's pretty tall at 5'9''. She also had just dumped a jerk and was swearing off men and mending a hurt heart and pride. She kept saying "sure mom, I'm going to meet Oliver" sarcastically. The whole thing has become a daily joke for weeks. Something only her and I are in on.

She calls me from Orlando when she arrives at her girlfriends house and tells me something that was so spiritually saying it's going to be ok. Her girlfriends basset hound is named Oliver and I guess he and my kid hit it off right away. Sounds twilight zonish to me......two minutes in Orlando and she's already met an Oliver she's fallen in love with. Sent shivers up me, while the two of us laughed our ass off.

I can't help but wonder was it the picture of my mother at 17 where she and my daughter look so much alike, that I placed in a plastic bag and made Felisha take with her for protection. You see my mother and Felisha had a very strong connection and love. I prayed for my mother to watch over her and protect her. Call me crazy but I think Oliver was the sign saying, " don't worry kid, I've got the damn kid in my sights and all will be fine". Whatever it was, I felt suddenly better and knew the kid was going to be alright. I also knew it was a sign I was going to be alright too. I just say thanks.

Not Fit For Human Consumption

Menopause....a battle of wills I'm determined to win! I'm not Catholic but I do have a saint I truly believe in and wouldn't go into battle without.....St. Johns Wort. I am a worshiper of old St. John and the miracle that he can perform on a half crazed woman. It's truly like manna from the gods when I pop that clear little capsule filled with some green chopped up grassy looking stuff. I feel like the blind person when they cried "once I was blind but now I can see". I'm only crying out "once I was insane and now I'm ready for the human population".

Hormones are a funny thing and you'd think after years of donating enough blood to the sewer systems of the world to start my own blood bank, I'd be over this mess. Not. It's almost like an exorcism and when the demon finally begins to loose the battle and leave the body, they become worse and put up a horrific fight. This is what middle aged old lady getting out of the breeding arena hormones feel like. It's like you are going crazy but you're not. You're not crazy because you know you are going crazy. Sounds crazy I know but that's what it's like.

Lately I've not been fit for human consumption, even my own. Hell, I even can't stand to be around myself and would leave if I could. How in the hell my family has stood me I don't know. I think I scare the shit out of them so they just bow and smile and pray like hell they aren't on my hit list. I guess hormones are good for one thing--people will think twice before fucking with you while you're under the influence. There are always those who will try their luck though. My house has learned to just bow and smile. It's safer for them and me if they remain in the humble position. Even the dogs are suddenly starting to act like Caesar Milan had trained them. It's funny how a crazed woman can get things to obey her, unlike when she's in her natural nice and charming state. Did I mention I'm normally and naturally nice and charming....and I always have my lipstick on.

I need to do research but I feel that when I'm losing my mind with the hormones and feel like Godzilla with rabies, I've got too much testosterone flowing through me. I can't help but wonder is this why men are so damn difficult at times....too much testosterone. If that's what it feels like being a man, hell, I don't ever want to be one. I'll keep working on my blood bank any day.

I must admit it's a horrible feeling and I'm thankful that large doses of St. John and his worts seem to bring me back down to earth. I never desired to take to the air so being forced into a time continuum of craziness is horrid. I wonder how many women out there are acting crazy, grouchy and insane due to their hormones and they don't realize it. They are just so used to being crazy that they continue to accept the condition. Not me, bring me back to my normal state of insanity any day. At least when I'm in a normal state of confusion I'm usually in a good mood, laugh, dance, try to sing and have a knack to irritate everyone. Give me irritation through good mood any day over irritation due to fear for their lives.

Women, worship the wort because it works. Before you know it you'll be your old usually irritating self again. Your family won't listen to you, nor will the dogs. Everyone will regain their usual "fuck with you" attitude and you'll be just fine with it. You'll pull out your lipstick and put on a fresh coat and just sit back and smile. You might not be happy with it but it's better than going to jail on manslaughter charges, which was where I was heading. I can read the headlines now "Woman Pleads Insanity Due to Being Under the Influence of Hormones". Sad but it would be true.

To all who know me, it's safe to return to the interior of my world. I'm ok now or as ok as I'll ever be. Don't expect a miracle to have happened. I'm still the same person I was....irritating and silly and bound to have a sick joke or two in my pocket but I won't kill you. The gods and Ms. Menopause only know how long my rehabilitation process will last but the signs will be there when I start to go insane again. Look for the hairy growth forming on my face and ears, fangs developing and saliva dripping down my chin and the dagger should be a dead give away that it's no longer safe to enter the zone........and my lipstick will be smeared. If you're smart-hit me with a dart of worts and I'll be find in 48 hours.

Excuse me while I lay down and worship St. John and all his worts.

Daughter's Pride

Next week my daughter will be 25. Time passes oh so quickly and before you know it they're trading their bedrooms at home for one in their own home. She will always be my little girl it's just that that little girl has now developed into having a woman's body. I've sat on the sidelines enjoying her dreams and trying hard to never impose my dreams onto her life. I had a mother who was determined to do that with me so I know how ego busting that can be. It's exciting seeing that at last she's finally accomplished a goal and dream that's taken her years.

My daughter passed her medical boards and is now a licensed Physical Therapy Assistant. In a beach town where I hear so many parents moaning about how their kids have turned to drugs, are pregnant or basically have thrown their young lives away already, I stand proud knowing my daughter made it. She proves that dysfunctional parents can actually raise a child that is good, productive and will be a fine asset to this society that is so screwed up. She will be a giver to society, not a taker and for this I am proud.

To me she proves that anyone who has a goal and wants it bad enough, can do it. She came from a home of poorer people who couldn't afford to pay for college, both parents have always had to work their butts off, cheap vacations were always on the list and "spoiled" meant something in the refrigerator went bad. Still, she plowed through all those obstacles and came out on the other end a winner. Though our house might not have been filled with an overflowing cash supply, it has always overflowed with love and knowing that everyone in it stood behind everyone else and people actually listened and cared about your life. Personally, I think this is number one when it comes to raising a child. It's not money, vacations, new clothes or giving them everything they want that builds character--it's those rough times where everyone is weathering the storm together that builds true character. If you're a spoiled adult, expect your child to be just as spoiled.

My daughter has faults like everyone else walking this big old planet but what's good about her outshines all of that. She is my hero. She is a woman I look up to and strive to be more like. I have no doubt she will be a fantastic PTA, wife and above all a mother. She already is a fantastic daughter and friend. I'm so proud for her that at last all of her hard work and financial burden has paid off. I'm even prouder because nobody gave it to her, she worked her tan little fanny off for this.

I've always said that when the day comes and I lay my head on the pillow for that eternal rest, I won't be remembered for doing anything noteworthy...except for maybe my daughter. I'm nobody special but to my daughter I'm a hero and someone to be looked up to. It's sorta scary to have that role to live up to but with her it's easy. I know she will remember me with love and she will also know how greatly she was loved. Hell, I'd fight the devil and all his partners to rescue my child. I look at her and I can see me in so many ways, except she's refined everything to be so much better.

And may my epitaph read "Joyce, she was a shitty house cleaner, started many projects and never finished them, dreamed large and produced small, was addicted to fried chicken and Pepsi, had a warped sense of humor, was a loner, thought everything was about her, smoked too many cigarettes and needed to lose some weight but......she was the mother of Felisha and for that all is forgiven."

I love you baby and mother is so damn proud of her little peanut!

Deadliest Catch Caught Me

It's been quite some time since I can honestly say a television show has me waiting for it to air each week. Those damn crabbers on The Deadliest Catch have really got me hooked on their show. I can't wait for every Monday to come so I can finally watch a new episode. Though I have to admit I watch the reruns over and over again I'm so hooked. Hell, I can't even eat the damn things.

If you wonder why the price of these crabs are so high, just watch the show and you'll see why. I think I'm also drawn to the show because it's like a soap opera with male characters. Instead of being a "chick flick" its a "dick flick"...and I like it! These burly crab dudes have this middle aged lady hooked. It's quite interesting watching a bunch of "manly men" working a "manly job" and just being themselves.

I've got to give it to them though--they honestly have a very dangerous job. I'm also impressed because these guys are anywhere from their late teens to fifties and they're slinging those pots around like a feather, weathering 100 mph winds with waves and I don't see one throwing up. I'd be in the bathroom spitting out an intestine before we made it out of port. I've got to give it to the crabber dudes.

I find myself relishing the last show of the season and it's also kind of sad. I'll miss my crab boys and watching them bicker like women and nag like women and gossip like women but doing it all in such a damn manly way. I love this show and I can't wait to see them freezing their asses off when the king crabs run through the Bering Sea once again.

It's All About Me.......Shit.....it isn't?

As the time clock of my life slowly ticks away, I've found myself to be re-evaluating the things in life that are the most important to me. Happiness is a big one. No longer do I dream of making huge bunches of cash, though it would be nice and I no longer dream of being someone famous. After all, I'm famous enough to me and that's all that is important.

Happiness comes in many different forms and to everyone it means something different. The past week of my life has further reinforced the fact that there are many people who seem to be content to wallow away their lives in a perpetual funk! When they enter a room it's like the black plague has infested the area. If you aren't careful, you'll be slimed with their funk and brought into their world of unhappiness. Try to remain happy and you'll watch them sink even deeper into their funk world to the point of anger.

I've heard it said that "It's all about me". Well it should be, shouldn't it? Should we all not live our lives with us being the number one important factor in it? Try to make everyone else happy and you'll find you're the number one unhappy person on the block. Some people just don't want to be happy and are content to move from one funk moment to another. I've actually seen some people get angry at me because I was happy. I always say it's a good thing I've got a warped sense of humor or I might just get angry myself at these times. Fortunately, there are some cases when this big mouth is able to hold her tongue.

Whatever the future moments of my life bring me, I just want to be happy and surrounded by people who are at least trying to do the same. I don't have to question whether I'm loved or not, because I know I am. I just wish there was some magic potion I could spray in the air and all these sour people would once again achieve some type of happiness. Think of how much better they would feel, the people in their lives would feel and how better this big place we call our world would be. Unfortunately, it falls back to that old saying "be thankful for what you have because it could be worse". My life could be a hell of a lot worse than it is, but still my main goal is to remain a happy person. Humor and happiness is my valium for dealing with life in general.
Thank the gods in charge that at this point I still haven't lost the ability to laugh at myself or the dreaded happenings in my life. I wish this were true for many but it's not.

At this point I plan on continuing on my route of self indulged happiness and will also probably continue to irritate a few. I figure if you don't like my attitude at work......go through another line and if you don't like my attitude in my everyday life.....don't come around me. I put lead weights on my fishing line to keep it in the water. I don't need anyone trying to put them on my ankles and pulling me down to drown in their shit infested waters. After all, this southern girl wears lipstick and floaties and the devil himself won't smear my smile with shit water.........and how was your day?