Not just out of water.
In the driveway.
I guess I’ve been more startled by some things—a snake unexpectedly slithering across my path, a sudden crack of thunder, the smoke alarm going off—although that’s never really all that unexpected when we’re cooking.
But, honestly. . . a fish in the driveway?
Yesterday, I was having a productive day. Straightened up around the house, a little light dusting. Did my full workout. Gave the MotH a haircut. Finished one of the unending loads of laundry. Made myself a master shopping list for a serious grocery run and a Home Depot shopping spree. (We live at Home Depot since we moved.) Took care of some emails and some paperwork, and was just about to take a short break when I decided to go get the mail.
I wandered down the driveway, taking my time in appreciating how much the lawn has improved and enjoying the fine sharp line of my edging work, and marveling—as always—at how brazen the squirrels are around here.
When, suddenly! A horde of flies, and I glanced down to see a fish.
A very dead fish.
Lying in my driveway.
Now, it is true that I live near water. Fish have been pulled out of it. Inevitably, however, they are on the end of a fishing line. They may flap around briefly on the dock, but they go one of three places: back in the creek, into the crab trap, or into the kitchen. Never, ever do they end up 50 or 60 yards away in the middle of my driveway.
It was startling.
Kind of like how the Egyptians must have felt when those frogs started falling from the sky.* (I know, I know—they came up out of the Nile and didn’t drop from the sky at all. When I was a kid, however, I thought they dropped from the sky, and I still like the story better that way. )
Actually, that’s what I assumed happened with the fish.
Some kind of aerial battle—osprey vs. eagle—and nobody winning.
Although, I’m not sure why one of the combatants wouldn’t have come down to retrieve the prey. Possibly, they don’t like to lower themselves into civilization like that.
I suppose an alternative theory might be one of the neighborhood black cats—but they are usually hunting the aforementioned squirrels or various songbirds when they come by—not dragging dinner and then leaving it behind.
However it happened, it was startling. And kind of icky.
And, of course, the MotH was nowhere to be found
I could have left it there until he returned, but it was already somewhat fragrant. And there were those flies.
So, with great presence of mind and consummate bravery, I got the shovel out of the garage. There was a one-woman funeral procession and burial at sea.
Any minute now my heart rate will be returning to normal.
A fish.
In the driveway.
What could it possibly mean?
Other than a little help from the gods when I was stuck for a blog post.
Thank you, gods.
I guess.
* Exodus 7:25 – 8:11
