It's A Small World

   You could call it the "it's a small world" concept.

   Or you could ask "what are the chances for this?"

   Back in the days when Mayre Lou and I lived in Chattanooga with our 3 kids, we used to take vacation trips in the summer. Now this is not unusual, but when the kids were pretty small, we sometimes took a babysitter along with us. It was a win/win situation, both for the parents and kids, but also for the teenager whose wages included two weeks in a different section of the country. 

   Fast forward to the present:

   On a recent Pickleball morning, I noticed a new player had joined our group. I even played a couple of games with this man. Not knowing his real name, I just called him Moose as some of the other players referred to him.

   Now, since our group from the BX is playing outside these days because of the virus, there are games going on most days of the week except for Sundays. I usually play on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but others play on MWF and even Saturday. Everyone does not play every day.

   So my path, and Moose's, did not cross for a few sessions, till one day we both showed up. As I was leaving the court, Moose told me that his wife used to be our babysitter in those long ago days. I asked her name, to which he replied "Kim". 

   "Kim Jackson?" I asked.

   "Yep"

   After chatting a few minutes, I left and drove home, thinking all the way how funny it was that this meeting had occurred.

   A half century or so had gone by, and here we were, Moose with his new wife, our babysitter, and me with Carolyn, playing pickleball together, a game we did not even know existed till 18 month's ago, on a converted tennis court in East Ridge.

   Go Figure!

   It is indeed a small world...

Visitation

    Looking out the kitchen window, not long after the sunrise, some movement on the ground in the back yard near the fence.

   Then the questions:

      What is it?

      Where did it come from?

      What is wrong with it?

   Our first guess was a coyote, but it was hard to tell with it lying down. Then as it moved a bit, there was discussion of a fox.

   When we finally found someone to talk to about it, a man from Tennessee Wildlife, he described what we should be looking for: grey on the back, white on the belly and neck, bushy tail, black tip on the tail.

   In short, it looked as if we had a coyote.

   The coyote began to move around, but with a decided limp from the right leg. From the way it put weight on the leg, it looked like the animal might have suffered an injury, possibly from a vehicle.

   Where it came from was anybody's guess, but probably out of the area of woods behind the fence in the back.

   Do we call it a "she", a "he" or an "it"?

   As the morning progressed, the coyote began to limp around, visiting the people next door on the north, but eventually coming back to settle in our back yard.

   What to do, or who to call?

   We had to go out and pick up some stuff, so we called our neighbor up the street, and Sue said she would look for some solutions to our problem. 

   Arriving back home, Sue showed up along with a man who rescued possums. 

   But now we had another problem: Where was the coyote? We had watched from the side porch as it relocated behind the area of our garden house, next to the fence on the south side of the property. When our group began to look for it, it was nowhere to be found.

   We found a hole in the wire mesh fence where it might have escaped, but no animal.

   Nothing to do but set up the trap and hope the critter might return. Our "possum" man baited the trap with dog food, and we waited to see. He wanted to take the coyote to Knoxville and leave it with a lady who worked with coyotes, especially those that had medical issues.

   We checked the trap at daybreak today, no critter, so the questions began again:

      Where did it go?

      Did it feel better?

      Was this a one-time visit?

      Did it not like that brand of dog food?

   I guess we will never know unless the coyote returns, or is sighted somewhere else, or is found in a ditch.

   He/She or It is definitely not under our control.