Nutria [via]

Talk to An Elder; Create A Myth

Jewel is my elderly shut-in neighbor. I don't know her exact age but I imagine she is in her 80's or 90's. Her back is hunched over from osteoperosis and she can't walk a few feet without getting tired anymore. She uses an old wooden walking stick that is neither expensive or designed to be a cane, but suits her needs. Her day is spent sitting in her faded green recliner, wrapped in a crocheted afghan, watching television. I like to go over to her porch and talk about the news of the day with her in the afternoon. She can't stand President George and swears he is in it for the money. I can tell she wants visitors when her front door is ajar and her cat is outside soaking up the evasive sunlight of a typical Oregon day. We chat about the progress of the whales swimming the wrong way in the Sacramento River. We talk about our cat's behaviors that amuse us. We often talk about our love of animals and I'm sure I will be hearing about the whales for weeks or months to come.

Tonite, I strolled outside to get a breathe of cool air after roasting a chicken in my small kitchen. As I walked past Jewel's door I saw it was ajar. I heard her get up and shuffle to the door pushing her walker with tennis balls on the ends. She has on an unmatched outfit of a loose cotton blouse and flannel pajama pants. On her walker contains a basket with her important papers and tissues and other critical objects for her daily comfort. She beckons me in with her big eyes. Her welcoming voice demands me to come in and get out of the chilly air as the sun is going down. Her tv is on as usual and she tells me how she hates the Geiko caveman commercials. She thinks they are stupid. I laugh. To change the subject we talk about the lost whales in the Sacramento River. We wonder if they should be just left alone or if spraying them with high pressure water hoses will work. The subject changes to the nutrias in the backyard who live in the creek. Would they ever bother our cats we wonder? And she tells me how she hasn't seen nutrias in the yard for several years but they sure are ugly creatures. However, she will never forget the day, years and years ago, when she watched a family, clan, herd of nutrias dig roots near the creek. She was intrigued to notice a white animal foraging with the group of overly large rodents. An albino nutria was the only rational explanation. "It couldn't be anything else," she asserts, "because it was with the group of nutrias."

Later this evening I realize I have just heard a wonderful story about a rare albino nutria siting by a local elder and I had to write it down. The point isn't whether the animal was a true albino, or that it even existed, or even that a nutria is a fascinating and compelling animal to write about as say a white buffalo siting, but illustrates the importance taking the time to listen. I recognize now how much I value taking the time to listen to an unusual story that it made my neighborly visit something that I just had to share.