Saturday, May 23

Saturday started out like any other normal day – computer time, housework, a trip to town. Nothing prepared me for what was to come.

Dean stuck his head in the computer room and asked if I wanted to go for a 4-wheeler ride. I looked around at everything which needed doing and thought of all the goals that I intended to accomplish, and immediately said ‘Yes!”

You see, for years I have sought after the elusive jackalope. There have been numerous sitings in our area, but none which passed the scrutiny of the press. Perhaps today would be the day that I made history! So off we rode, into the desert.

As we followed the trail, I saw occasional flashes of fur and heard the thunderous noise of jackalopes on the hunt. Faster and faster we sped, until finally, "it" jumped out in front of us. "It" was huge–the size of a large dog!– Never had I seen a more perfect specimen of the jackrabbitous giganticus. While he was an amazing site, he was not our quarry, so on we drove. Staying on the trail, we passed through thickening stands of greasewood and scrub brush, stopping only to rest a few moments by the slow-moving Sevier.

While waiting, a relentless drone filled our ears, like the sound of a jet plane. I gasped in pain! I had been bit! Bit by a voracious skeetervore! Long thought to be extinct, these pre-historic insects can be found within flying distance of trilobite outcroppings. Striking out with gloved fists, we fought them off, finally escaping to the west. As a point of information, if you ever have a dead skeetervore clinging to you, take your hunting knife and cut the muscle on the left side of the neck in order to release it’s grip on you. They can be eaten for food in times of famine, (I’ve heard they taste like tibbars roasted over a spit) but I’ve never been that hungry. Leaving the area, we passed the bleached bones and skin of a calf which had not been so lucky. Shaking our heads, we decided that the time had come for a strategic retreat. The hunt was over.

Lost in thought, we did not even notice the approach of a truckisaurous tex until we found it directly in front of us. We stopped...it stopped. We stared at each other wondering who would make the first move. The truckisaur was a deep blue and towered over us like a ravenous wolf towering over a field mouse... never show fear. They sense it when you do. Determined to take control of the situation, Dean eased us onto the trail and he calmly, nonchalantly approached the behemoth. Just to prove that he was not afraid, he waved at it as we passed.

What courage, what self-control, he didn't even flinch. He's my hero! When I read this to him, he said, “it was just an uneventful ride out to the monument.” “Uneventful?” I didn’t even mention him bravely circling the snake or investigating the truckliner or stalking lizards!