Floyd

*** Photographic Evidence Now Exists ***

As Mulder says, “The truth is out there … I want to believe!” Now I can. For seven years I battled him – or, rather, his shadow. Many is the heavy stone I set to seal off the entrances to the labyrinth of subterranean tunnels that riddle by backyard , only to be mysteriously knocked aside the next day. Many is the time I would open my door and step on to the deck, only to be startled half-near a heart attack by something fat and monstrous scurrying away in the bordering foliage. Many are the quick peripheral glances of something big and unholy skulking about the shrub-framed basement windows overlooking his kingdom-by-guerrila warfare.

His name is Floyd, and he is the Woodchuck King-in-Exile.

I cede an inch, he takes a foot. I flood the massive hole he’s dug in the center of my backyard with a hoseful of water, and he digs three more mockingly in plain sight. I’ve heard his growls exit-stage-right in the hot summer sun; I’ve heard his plaintive cries by the pale light of the hunter’s moon under brisk October darkness.

Now, Little One has obtained photographic evidence – the first physical, tangible, non-negotiable proof of that corpulent beast, that “stuffed cloakbag of guts,” to quote Shakespeare’s Prince Hal. No more unrecorded sounds. No more blobulous pseudo-footprints in melting snow. No, now Little One has captured King Floyd for all posterity, thanks to quick thinking and free memory on our Sony’s removable disk.

So I present to you my nemesis, that dam Woodchuck (or Badger, or Hedgehog, whatever) with whom I am engaged in total and complete War!

Bring it, sorcerer!