Daryl Bauer, Fisheries Outreach Program Manager
Over the years I have joked about critters that will scare off some folks. My claim is that these are exactly the beasts that guard all of my best fishing spots. In no particular order those would be chiggers, ticks, mosquitoes, itch-mites, rattlesnakes, bats, rats, coyotes, mountain loins, wild hogs, owls, and of course, sasquatch.
Suppose what scares you is an individual thing. Can recall certain co-workers that absolutely were terrified of snakes. For another it was turtles. Anytime a turtle was present in a net we pulled into the boat, I was suddenly doing all the lifting and work by myself as my help was perched at the farthest end of the craft.
I do not have a phobia about snakes, but I am not going to go out of my way to handle them either. Conversely, my daughter loves snakes. She has ever since she was very young. When we would go to a zoo, she would plaster herself up against the glass of any display containing a snake. She got as close as she could. My wife and I have always thought this was curious as neither of us are snake lovers and both her grandmothers are snake haters.
Surprisingly, a little ole spider will send my daughter into hysterics. There is not a shoe big enough nor any projectile of too large a caliber for getting rid of an itsy bitsy spider.
I have encountered a lot of things that go bump in the night. Intersected a pair of fellow predators, coyotes, in the pre-dawn darkness one spring turkey hunt. I sensed there was something near me, turned on a small pen-light and saw the glow of two pairs of eyes not more than a few yards in front of me. Surprisingly, the coyotes were not spooked. We all stood there for a few seconds looking at each other. I quietly told them “good morning” and then “good luck” as they slowly turned and trotted away. It was a couple, three hunters just crossing paths on the way to their morning stands.
Raccoons shuffling down the bank after dark while I cast into fall waters hoping for a walleye is nothing unusual. Have even shared a tuperware full of brownies with a few of them. I was fortunate they left any for me.
Mink in the rocks at my side are also common. They are one of my favorite animals. Nothing about mink spook me although when a couple of them get to squabbling over a fish, the screaming can make your hair stand up a bit.
A skunk snuffling down a shoreline one evening sure got my attention. You know, the skunk really did not care I was there and eventually I decided the feeling was mutual.
Hooted back at a barred owl late one evening. After a short conversation, that bird came gliding across the bay right to me. It swooped up onto a light pole right above me. Then it stared at me. Ever had an owl stare at you? They look right through you. That was a little unnerving. I now think twice before hooting back at owls. Oh, I still hoot at them, but I think twice about it first.
The strangest demon creature that went bump in the night one night was one, actually a couple, you will never guess. . . .
From time to time, when conditions are just right, the northern lights can be seen as far south as Nebraska. On an evening when there was supposed to be a chance to see that spectacular light show, my wife, daughter and I were in the country looking north. We had parked in a wildlife area parking lot at the top of a hill. It was silent, so quiet you could hear the air molecules bouncing off your ear-drums. We had it as dark as possible hoping to catch a glimpse of a curtain of white, green or red in the northern sky.
Suddenly, I could perceive something near us in the darkness. It was more of a feeling than hearing or seeing anything. My wife and daughter sensed it too. They headed for the pickup and locked the doors. I fumbled around to find a light and clicked it on.
Standing there right beside me, looking at me, was a pair of not chupacabras nor werewolves. No, what had quietly stalked us was a couple of donkeys.
I have no idea where they came from, had never seen any donkeys anywhere near there before nor since. In the light they looked at me inquisitively, big ears cocked towards me. I reached out to touch one, but it shied away. They shared my company for a few minutes; my wife and daughter refused to come out and greet them. Soon, they just moseyed away. Gone. I have no idea where they went. Vanished.
To this day my daughter is scared of donkeys almost as much as she is of spiders.