Cripes, Wasps, bloody stinging wasps!
This was a first. Who would have thought, for heaven's sake. But then, why not. And the target was us. We'd just come down off the twin mountains in the Waterville Valley, the nice, easy, relatively low ones; Welsh-Dickey, congratulating ourselves for having managed the climb despite the length of time the climb took us, well over the 3-1/2 hours normally given to the climb (average). It took us, in fact, 4-1/2 hours to accomplish the double clamber, but who cares? We were also talking between ourselves about how proud we were of our two little dogs, a miniature and a toy poodle, eleven+ and six years of age respectively, that they had managed the climb more than a little successfully. If it had been hotter than it was at 20 degrees it would have been dicier for them. As it was, they were more than a little daunted at various points in the climb when they came across rockfaces much taller than they could contemplate jumping over. Riley, our toy poodle became downright frightened, even when he knew we would be lifting him to the higher plateau (having done which he regained his composure nicely). Even Button, for whom this would be at least the fourth time she would have climbed this duo, was nonplussed at the seeming hostility of the height to her small frame.
We were engaged at that point, in the descent. In its own way, nearly, but not quite as troublesome to us as the ascent. My knees were wobbly from the unaccustomed arduousness of the hours of ascending the mountains, and Irving's toes on his left foot were giving him quite a bit of pain. He was wearing hiking boots which, although not his oldest, most comfortable pair, were certainly well broken in, so we couldn't understand the source of his problem. Both of us felt that our feet had been well pounded through this day's enterprise. We were almost as slow on the descent as we had been on the ascent, just taking our time. Looking around, enjoying the greenery the scenery, the sizes and varieties of the trees, the lovely rock outcroppings; wondering where all the wildlife was. In all the years we've clambered up and down mountains in New Hampshire we've always wondered where the wildlife had gone to. Year ago, to be sure, and at the top of a mountain, we had seen a rabbit - but only once. Occasionally we'd seen red squirrels, but rarely anything more. Hell, on this occasion the wildlife was awaiting us.
A jolly family of four overtook us on the descent; at that point likely three-quarters of the way down Dickey. They had with them a nice female yellow Lab; considerably larger breed than ours. Nonetheless our toy, Riley, tried to put the large dog in its place, threatening as is his wont to beat the larger dog into submission. They passed us and a few moments later, there seemed to be a bit of a hullabaloo, and we wondered what on earth was going on. The two men and two women ran back toward us as we proceeded onward, with the yellow Lab following closely. They stopped as we came abreast and we asked if the Lab had run into a porcupine or something similar. No, they said, a swarm of wasps, and we watched as the Lab sat crookedly, trying to lick her stomach where she had been violated by the nasty biters. Her owners ran water from their flasks over her.
We obviously understood the situation rather imperfectly and announced our intention to forge on. They said they would follow, cautiously, and if we got through on the trail successfully they would continue on. It hadn't seemed sensible at that point to try bushwhacking, since the bush and the brush were fairly dense. So off we started. I was holding Riley at that juncture, and Button, our miniature poodle, was padding along innocently, just in front of Irving as they both outpaced me by about ten feet. Didn't take long before Irving began to shout and yelled at me to get off the trail. He scooped Button up, frantically waving his free arm at the same time. Once he had gained what seemed like a safe distance from the angry horde of wasps, many of which he had grasped and hurled off himself, he pulled them frantically off Button until all were gone - then he realized that they were still flocking, albeit in smaller numbers, after them and he hurried on.
For my part, I was by then well off the trail bushwhacking with Riley in my arms, trying hard not to get too tangled in the underbrush, trying to keep an eye on Irving. I could hear the others doing the same, although on the side opposite to me on the trail. When I finally rejoined Irving, we could see that he was fairly intact; he had bites on his hand and fingers, and one on his belly, but nothing else. We were worried about Button, as Irving had pulled one very pugnacious and reluctant wasp off the top of her eye, never mind the countless wasps on her body. In the end, though, because of Irving's quick response (given the circumstances it was fortunate that we had been pre-warned) no real damage had been done to her. Despite which, once we continued our descent leaving the wasps behind us, Button went along at a pace we couldn't match, in her anxiety to put as much space between the dreaded, hated stinging insects as possible. Poor Button; this wasn't the only run-in she's experienced in her years with stinging insects, only the latest. She hates stinging insects with an abiding passion, and little wonder.
What a way to end a great climb, an effort-filled clamber to attain great views. What a meagre reward for a brave little dog after putting out such an excess of energy to please her human companions. What a little champion, two little champions. Another memorable day, in a lifetime of days to be remembered.
posted by Pieface @ Wednesday, September 21, 2005
<< Home