This work is supported by the generous backers who adore my cat stories at Patreon.com/amberunmasked and they also get first access to what’s happening with my books and podcast.
Where We Left Off:
Inside the residence, Gus caught, perhaps the largest mouse we’ve ever seen. The human managed to get the critter into a relocation program.
Smoke Gets in Her Eyes:
I sure do hate being the subject of one of our investigations! It does go to show Shit Happens. It happens to everyone (although some seem to be coated in Teflon).
In general, the beasts in our area are not known to attack humans. Most “monsters” are other humans. Allow me to set the scene.
EXTERIOR – JUNKYARD ADJACENT. MORNING.
Gus and I were geared up for an early adventure and patrol of the grounds. As the weather warms up, the animal activities move closer to the residence so we don’t have to go hiking to check on the critters. The morning fog was still. I know it sounds unbelievable, but when I’m in the mist, I can always see it moving. Not that day. It had moved in to blanket our little hamlet between the hills, but it didn’t lift away. Yet, somehow, the sunrise was able to cause a fierce blinding glare through the clouds. It was as if someone set off a Halloween smoke machine.
At this point in the year, Gus was still spending some time at the higher west end of the yard. I suppose it depends on his agenda for the day. It’s not like he nor Oliver discuss their plans with me before we start our day. On this particular day, Oliver had a short stroll up the driveway with me and Gus. Gus did his own thing (stalking from underneath vehicles where I can’t fit) and I chauffeured Oliver in circles to patrol the borders with the neighbors. There has been a lot of activity recently by the newest neighbor, Lord Theodore, who bought all the land and is renovating the main house at the top of the hill. But there has also been a great amount of bird and critter activity at the intersection of all the properties.
After twenty minutes of me pushing the stroller which is hard when I’m also carrying a bunch of our gear, I brought Ollie back down and met up with his favorite human, The Cook. She took him the rest of the way and let him out on the balcony. I was freed up to focus on Gus who has a penchant for sneaking away as soon as my back is turned.
I consider it fortunate that a Boulevard chipmunk sprinted across the private road and across the entrance to Bunny Hollow. It went under the mobile command unit and continued to Garter Snake Ridge which forms one of the sides of the junkyard. Gus spotted the racing critter and came out from under the truck only to go under the mobile command unit. I had to work my around a whole bunch of stuff (things used by The Grumpy Old Man) and squeeze between the corner of the building and the MCU. My parasol barely fits and I don’t have to collapse it if I move carefully enough. I saw the chipmunk peeking its head out from behind the old barn doors that lean against the ridge. It got spooked and hid.
I made sure Gus was still where I expected him to be and then I stepped further into the junkyard. This was before the weeds had grown out of control. The grass and fleabane seemed to pause growing because of the drought. Anyway, I stepped around old farm equipment pieces and the barn doors in order to reach the rocks. I placed some seeds and peanuts out hoping the chipmunk would have a chance to get some before the blue jays noticed. I glanced back to see Gus was still fine so I moved forward, passing all the cinder block stacks of “critter condos” and reached the big rocks. I put out snacks there for the birds so that they wouldn’t immediately notice the small serving I left at the ridge.
Everything here went fine. Gus even came out and did some Batman parkour across the critter condos which are topped with an obstacle course of pallets, buckets, ladders, and other crap. I have to watch him if his leash is dragging behind him because he gets caught on things. Normally, this is a spot where I can unhook him, but that day I left it on.
I was able to stand in between some lawn mowers when Gus reached the end of his concourse. There’s a small wagon/trailer leaned up on its side against the last stack of cinder blocks. Gus always goes into it and gets down to the ground. He chose to head over to the boulder for a while and wait to see if anyone on the Most Wanted List stopped by for snacks. I took the opportunity to take a couple photos of the chipmunk who had come out of hiding. It looked too small to be Chipcent Donofrio. It may have been Wanda Maximunk or one of her children.
Gus was not ready to call it quits, but he was ready to change positions. He crawled under the big wagon/trailer so I moved alongside it attempting find a comfortable place to stand.
The strange low fog spread away from where we were positioned and allowed for a circular clearing in small part of the yard where we were. I had never seen anything like that before. The sun grew brighter. I tried to back up into the narrow strip of shade, but there were far too much crap in the way. My parasol was barely providing any cover. I squatted down to make sure Gus was still where I had seen him crawl under the hay wagon and he was. I resumed my bird watching feeling normal.
Then everything went black.
I saw flashes of things near me: my adventure bag, camera, the wagon. I heard the sound of the lens cap popping off the camera. It went black again after those flashing lucid blinks.
I woke up on the ground next to the big wagon. My jaw hurt. My hat fell off. My parasol was open and the handle of it was leaning into my left arm. I was on my left side pushing myself more upright. My legs were bent. New sunglasses were on the ground with cracks and a lens out. I checked my camera. The lens hit the metal fender of the wagon as did my jaw, but the camera was in working order. I couldn’t say the same about myself yet.
I don’t know if the phone had been in my right hand before but it was there and I text the Butler: Need help now or something like that. I think I was standing when he reached us. Gus was out in the open grass and the Butler reached down to pick up his leash. I doubt my conversation was clear but it went something like this:
“Okay, you got him? Good,” I said.
The Butler said, “Yeah, I got him. He’s good. Did you fall?” Something-something-hydration-sun. I don’t know.
Gus led us back to the house while a blue jay followed us from the big rock. (The blue jays like to follow me because of the peanuts.) I think the Butler took half my things to carry and we went home to sit in the kitchen where I promptly drank a pint of water. I got to shower and rest after that.
The next day, I was still perplexed about what happened. I leashed Gus and we went back out to look for evidence. He insisted on spending a lot of time closer to the residence and waiting to see if there were any members of the Chipmunk Mafia at the rock fortress. I decided to leave him there and I went ahead to the spot where I collapsed.
My body felt like it had been beat up or in a car crash. My jaw and head heard but basically it was all over. A full-body dull ache except for the left side of my chin where I felt a more concentrated area. I hadn’t noticed any bruising until a full week later! This didn’t make any sense. I should have bruised the next day. I did communicate with my doctor who told me to go to the emergency room which was where I was later on for hours. But, first, I had to get to the scene and look for evidence.
Gus finally joined me. I distributed some critter snacks and then we were ready to get to work. Months ago, I gave this area my best attempt at cleaning it up. You’d never know it. Metal drums—one so rusted and full of holes, I don’t know why we have it. A decrepit weight bench from when I was around 12-years-old. There’s a metal harrow that keeps getting buried by grass. I periodically drag it out and free it, but it just gets covered again. The Grumpy Old Man had said not to hang it up because he would need to get it down. It’s been used once. You get my point. The area is a mess.
I asked Gus to sniff around the trailer and the heavily weeded spots. I put on my gloves and sifted through what I felt comfortable doing. Gus started to dig at a small pile of dead grass. I was worried at first because he’s done that before and uncovered baby bunnies. This time was something else. Something unexpected.
Human teeth.
To be more specific, there were two pieces of my own broken teeth. I hadn’t even realized it happened. I must have taken quite a blow to the head! Fortunately, the doctor said I did not have a concussion. But cracked teeth? (insert your own rant about the American healthcare system and how “dental” and “vision” are not integral to “health”).
One of our blue jay confidential informants landed on the big rock and squawked for my attention.
“Lorry Sheep” Biretta had proven herself to be a valuable asset to us and the Blue Jay Gang. She was one of the fastest birds around and could fly through obstacles like Luke Skywalker. She bonded with us before she grew a signature peaked crest on her head.
“Hey-hey-hey!”
I turned around and saw our friend doing a little jig as if I wouldn’t see her otherwise. “Lorry Sheep, how are you? I’ve got a couple peanuts left. Not much.” I tossed a couple of the peanuts to the right of the rock.
“How am I? How are you? I saw what happened yesterday,” she said.
Gus jumped up to the bed of the wagon and sat at attention facing the bird. “You saw her fall? Did you notice anything before it happened?”
“That’s what I’m sayin’ yeah.” The blue jay popped up to a low tree branch in case Gus thought he could get closer.
I was not prepared for what Lorry Sheep told us.
Can these trail camera images give us any details about what creatures have been lurking around here?
Case Findings:
A swooshing figure of smoke whipped through the air moving the low mist with it. Like a swarm turning solid, it clobbered me, breaking a couple of my teeth which went flying out of my mouth. When I was gasping to inhale, the creature turned back to an intangible smoke and released some of its mist into my face. The unknown substance rendered me unconscious briefly and had disorienting side effects.
I put the broken pieces of my teeth into an empty medicine bottle I keep in my adventure bag. Gus asked our CI if she knew anything else about this monster, but she didn’t. No name. No taxonomy to go on. We were left with a lot of unanswered questions. For now, we’re calling it a Smoke Shifter.
Case Status: Open
