We're in for a soggy winter

To The Eagle:

According to the Scottish thesaurus, highlanders have 421 words to describe snow. You’d think we’d have quite a few words for rain but apparently one word is enough for the likes of us. We just add a lot of adjectives in front of it, few of which should be uttered in polite company.

The Farmer’s Almanac is full of interesting folklore regarding the weather, little of which is based upon science and much of which invokes fanciful fictions. Hereabouts lately, the rate of precipitation is indeed approaching the realm of science fiction. We don’t need an almanac to tell us we are in for a soggy winter. All one has to do is look around at all the tipoffs. Here in cow country, bovine hoof-rot would be troublesome were it not for the ranch hands working diligently to get the cows into their waders. That’s a lot of boots and the expense must be udderly ridiculous. Tractors are bogging down but those duck hunting punts are proving handy to float hay bales out to the livestock.

Most of the goose hunters have traded off their shotguns for fishing poles anyway, to plumb the seasonal lakes that local pastures have turned into. That might have been a fowl situation except that Fish & Game apparently doesn’t require a fishing license for anyone angling for mud-trout where cows now fear to tread. The DOT has erected its temporary “ salmon crossing” sign at the permanently flooded intersection up the road where there are presently more fish than traffic. Closer to home my chicken coop is hosting a soggy truce between a turkey, three ducks, a couple of sodden feral cats and some woebegone racoons.

Not to worry. It’s gonna dry out eventually, but before it does, whooeee! Can’t wait for the mud races! In the meantime, I’m gonna pole my plank to the mailbox. Just can’t seem to get enough of them catalogues.

JB Bouchard

Puget Island