Wah! Mi Ga Splut!

Yesterday I took a walk down by the river side along the Schuylkill River-side Trail her in Pennsylvania, mostly interested in seeing how much the rains from Topical Storm Hanna have raised the river - I took no pictures of the river as it - it wasn't especially photogenic.

What was on Friday, a jumbled pile of rocks with a trickle full of algae in it, looked very much like a swollen stream of chocolate milk rushing downstream - full of dead branches and debris.

While there was no flooding locally, there was a good deal of rain on Saturday, and later in the day the winds started to pick up - the air was full of unsettled excitement - and moisture. The winds knocked over a couple trees onto the roadway of the Pennsylvania Turnpike which fortunately I saw before running over them in my car at speed.

The rains however have chased some of the local wildlife around - I saw lots of deer but not many birds, chin strap or otherwise, nor did I see any squirrels. The trail was a little covered with wet leaves, blown down hickory nuts (you sure don't want to step on those accidentally!) and sticks. So I had to watch my footing a little bit more closely than usual.

I did look up from time to time to see what might be flowing down the river - or hiding behind the trees, and that is when it happened. I heard this faint, "Wah! Mi ga splut!" I stopped, dead in my tracks, and thought to myself, "Say what?"

Than I heard, "Ohm! Wah mi nut ga splut."

Was I in the presence of ancient native American Indians spirits? was this ancient Lenape Indian tongue I was hearing? I stood there - motionless for a bit, and then shuffled my feet a little, when I heard "Ohm! Wah mi nut ga splut! Wah mi ga sploit!"

This time, even with my poor hearing, the sound seemed to be coming from near my feet, and then I saw who was speaking to me.



I said to the worm, "I do not understand, umm, I do not speak Earthworm-ese," while using really useless hand gestures and signs. I continued by saying, "I did not mean to frighten you or to step on you," while I pantomimed with exaggerated motions.

The worm looked up and said, "You nitwit, Wormy speak English."

I looked at him, quite puzzled, "Huh, 'Wah! Mi ga splut!?'"

"Yes," said the Worm, "Wah! Me go splut!" and whan you stopped, I said "Oh! Wormy not go splut! Please! Get the wax out of your ears! When you shifted your feets, you just missed me with one of your big, ummm, worm-splutters! you goof!"

"Oh! I'm sorry - I'll be careful! I don't want to splut or sploit you!"

Squirrel Chronicles (v-LBE, AE&D, pre-FD)

Over the Hedge by Michael Fry and T. Lewis - enhanced by LadyStyx.
Note: In order to make things a little nicer, the first link you click will open a new browser window. When you click on subsequent links, that window will be reused (if you haven't closed it). Enjoy!

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On Monday, March 19, 2007, ChicagoLady first wrote about squirrels, little did she know the thudding she heard off in the distance, was an acorn hitting the ground. An acorn that grew into quite a story - one that grew in the telling.

The entry that started it all

The acorn sat for awhile, finding a place in the soft fertile soil... and then on Tuesday, September 11, 2007, ChicagoLady wrote some more.

And winter closed in. The acorn was busy though, deep beneath the wind-blown snow, it was gathering strength and sending down its root.

One fine spring day, on Monday, April 21, 2008, ChicagoLady was inspired. Looking out her window, she saw an acrobatic Charlie.

With this entry, the acorn sprouted, sending its first tenuous green stalk skywards, searching for the nourishment of the sun.

Alice Kay took note, and wrote on June 09, 2008, that she had spotted Charlie or one of his cousins in the Wilds of Pennsylvania. (Note: this is a private blog)

LadyStyx also took note, and wrote on Thursday, June 12, 2008, that she too, had spotted a local Charlie in her neighborhood just several dozens of miles south of Intense Guy's home.

Seeing that a Charlie had been observed in and very near his home state, Intense Guy decided to try his hand in taking a nice picture of a squirrel, but he wanted to capture, on digital film, one that lived in the wilderness, not some city slicker. So off he went, deep into the woods with his camera on Thursday, July 3, 2008, only to be totally frustrated.

Never one to give up, and yes, you can interpret that to mean he's mule headed and stubborn, on July 16, 2008, he tried once more... with decidedly odd results.

On Saturday, August 16, 2008, he tried again.

In Chicago, someone thought Intense Guy's futile efforts were silly, and decided to show everyone just how easy taking a picture really was...

But back in Pennsylvania, Intense Guy's efforts, like the one on Aug 20, 2008, continued to be futile - and even approached the fine line between obsession and insanity.

Yet, he toiled on, a week later, he produced even more evidence of his increasingly desperate state of mind.

Then, someone must have alerted the media... For roving photojournalist LadyStyx reported the news of a breaking scandal on Thursday, August 28, 2008.

Meanwhile, Punkn astonished everyone with an entry that told the world on August 30, 2008, of the squirrels plotting revenge for having their solitude disturbed.

On Monday, September 1, 2008, Intense Guy accidently ran over one of the photographing squirrel's paw. The squirrel was later identified to be Bushytail.

This act of violence, of course, meant war! And sure enough, the very next day, Punkn reported that the suirrels had armed themselves to the teeth and were on the war path seeking justice revenge!

Roving Journalist LadyStyx reported in the early hours of Wednesday, September 3, 2008, that the squirrels were dead serious - and had offered a reward for Intense Guy's capture.

Knowing he was outnumbered, outgunned, cornered, and perhaps, slightly guilty, Intense Guy surrendered later that day to Nutkins and Chuzzelwitz. Before the sun had even reached the meridian...

LadyStyx announced the stunning verdict of the International War Tribunal court. Guilty on All Counts!


Over the Hedge by Michael Fry and T. Lewis - enhanced by LadyStyx.
The squirrels, not being creatures to hold grudges, disarmed and returned to their day to day lives, smoking cigars and playing poker by sunset.

Sentenced to hard time, on Friday, September 5, 2008, Intense Guy prepared to start his walk down the oh-so-long green mile.

Added: September 7, 2008 at 12:40 PM

Don't forget to head over to LadyStyx's place and get your special inspired comment award!

--- stay tuned... this isn't over yet! ---

If you have enjoyed the Squirrel Chronicles, feel free to give yourself commemorative badge - to use however you see fit.



No... it is not over by a long shot....



Intense Guy reports from his holding cell, "Well, I can feel this guy's pain."

Journey's End - Campobello Island

As of September 5, 2008 at 5:45 PM
Steps: 4,842,494
Miles: 2035.00

Totals To Date (starting July 1, 2005) as of September 5, 2008 at 7:30 PM
Steps: 18,900,993
Miles: 8099.72



Measuring 9 miles long and about 3 miles wide, Campobello Island is a Canadian island located at the entrance to Passamaquoddy Bay, and within the Bay of Fundy. The island is part of New Brunswick but is physically connected by the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Bridge with Lubec, Maine - the eastern-most tip of the continental United States.

In addition to the Lubec bridge, the island is accessible in the summer months by an automobile ferry from nearby Deer Island and from there via another ferry to mainland New Brunswick. The island's permanent population in 2001 was 1,195.

The island was originally settled by the Passamaquoddy Nation who called it Ebaghuit. Can you say, "Ebaghuit"?

Years ago, Campobello Island became the exclusive home to several private American investors. A luxurious resort hotel was built and the island became a popular summer colony for wealthy Canadians and Americans, many of whom built grand estates there.



Included in this group was Sara Delano and her husband James Roosevelt Sr. from New York. Sara Delano had a number of Delano cousins living in Maine and Campobello offered a beautiful summer retreat where their family-members could easily visit. From 1883 onward, the Roosevelt family made Campobello Island their summer home.

Their son, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, future President of the United States, would spend his summers on Campobello from the age of one until, as an adult, he acquired a larger property - a 34 room "cottage" - which he would use as a summer retreat until 1939.

It was at Campobello, in August 1921, that Roosevelt fell ill with polio.

Got to run, errr.. walk! I got a job as a personal delivery courier and have a plane to catch! Tori's waiting for her stuff!

The Green 2,705 Mile(s)

Death Row at Louisiana's Cold Mountain Penitentiary was called "The Green Mile" because the condemned prisoners walking to their execution were said to be walking "the last mile" on a stretch of green linoleum. The main feature of the cellblock, however, was "Old Sparky", the electric chair.

"[W]e each owe a death; there are no exceptions; but, oh God, sometimes the Green Mile seems so long."

-Stephen King



Having been found guilty of "stalking & harrassment of all things orange, fuzzy and flying; the wrongful deaths of Lil and Tiny Bushytail; and the rustling of unnaturally colored sheep," by the International War Tribunal court and condemned to wear an ankle monitoring device, I will cheerfully and willingly serve my sentence by undertaking a Virtual Walk in the United Kingdom even if I am innocent of two of the three charges.

This will be Virtual Walk III and given it will be a walk through England, Wales and Scotland, each mile will almost assuredly be green.

I have not decided upon a starting point - perhaps the wilds of Inverness, Scotland? the navy base in Portsmouth? or perhaps begin with a hunt for the pirates of Penzance? Nor have I decided upon the direction, clockwise or counter-clockwise. Perhaps you will care to make suggestions.

2036 Miles - Virtual Walk II; Key West, Florida to Lubec, Maine

6060 Miles - Virtual Walk I; Beach Haven, New Jersey to the Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco, California and back