Hanta
Out by Horse Hospital and the Turquoise six, I watched a man chase a mouse with a shovel. He almost connected.
I was impressed that a mid-aged Mexicano kept up, even remotely. Mice have routinely been ahead of every human in every pursuit, in the entirety of mankind. But you never know the way that soft dirt plays combined with the chunky body of a mouse bloated with the good life. Rogelio y Walter were hired by the same man who’d hired me to clear this gorgeous plot of land. The duo had been rummaging through large train ties stacked atop each other. This pile of wood hasn’t moved in a few decades so it was entirely understandable that a family of mice were blindsided by the presence of humans & how loud we are. Lumber picked up & dropped atop each other is ominous drum circle. A strange man & his friend disassembling the log cabin structure. Heavy, clumsy boots & one tasty shovel he ran around aiming wild swings at this family. This duo had been working all day near the massive quiet arroyo that yearns to carry floods. I was impressed Rogelio had this energy left to spend on chasing rodents. I had only just showed up, late in the day when the Sun was on the precipice of handing the baton to a more talented star. It was important that I not get a daily cook cycle as desert heat is not to be trifled with. His quest to kill, gave him reason to deviate from his sweat logged workwear.
Staring at the disconnect this man is, to what I consider the equilibrium of a desert. We’re miles out from the town center in gorgeous country clearing out ancient brush that is fuel for burns. This is the only land of rodent Hanta virus that only becomes an issue in stuffy, non-ventilated confines. Large, valuable logs could be profitable in a cold winter if chopped properly & later shoved into stoves. Dirt territory with a compass of the Ortiz Mountain range & a horizon that is infinite . This land is heavily dictated by nature & the absence of man. Hawks above us, a murder in our ears. Stink beetles & horned toads running over red ant kingdoms and realizing this detour is wrong. As a kid, I was guilty of tormenting these small rock mounds and kicking them to disarray to watch Ants send out the emergency signal that complete anarchy is taking place at the gate. A child in Payless shoes, away from school showing his sister what annihilation looks like. A sister willing to join the fun after observing the antics. Proficient Beetles with bulbous bodies sense your presence and aim their sphincters towards the Owl watching from the tallest tree.
Get A.B.A.’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
They aim their black butts in place and hold steady positions for a long time. I know the distinct sound of their shells being crushed by me and the disgusting fart they let loose as a final legacy. I don’t dare revisit the smell which as an adult I’ve mastered the move of, keep it pushing.
I watch grown men invited to work this plot and not realize that we’re visiting here and this will always be their land. They move pebbles with mini hands and the valley of our boot prints are speed bumps that one storm will wash away and there is no trace that me or these odd men walked this soil.
After the duo ran out of electrolytes and departed home, I grabbed the shovel. I was under the impression from the distance that, team rodent had fared far better & made the brave escape. But I’d also seen Mice get severe PTSD & die without a blitz, furry cardiac arrest. Rats are the much more brave cousins who don’t overthink any measures & are willing to die for the gamble of 1 final attempt at freedom. A few years back I learned this directly as a smart rat had been tearing apart food in my pantry & was wise enough to pass the glue traps laid out for him on the long staircase.
The shock I felt as I caught him in the act, beady terrified eyes staring back at me as I opened the door. I stood there trying to come up with a plan with the door closed. I wanted one more peek at him & slowly opened it & he didn’t hesitate & to be frank, he had me beat and was millimeters away from freedom. But both of us forgot about the pinch point of the wooden door.
He wiggled & thrashed violently as I felt the cantilever of his weight & held steady as I knew that his throat works similar to ours. That very thin skin of throat wasn’t allowing air to pass through . This was a Jiu Jitsu choke on a healthy Rat & he was dying in the one trap I hadn’t set.
Rogelio had clearly reached his goal & got his satisfaction. I collected mice carcasses so that they could be placed in the open space of land and offered to any passing Coyote or Hawk as they emerge from the arroyo & smell the free meal. For the red ant kingdom to peruse the nostrils & the fur. I can only wonder if the Hawk detests the luck & prefers the hunt? Coyotes don’t have this constitution & like us, understand the rarity of an open field full of protein. I was not responsible for this slaughter and all I could do was offer the land & the soil the space to divvy up the assets of a family living in darkness just hours ago. I set them together, in the last of that day’s sun.
