Years ago after our house at the coast had been weathered in, Bob hid a key in the rafters of the garage below the first floor. From the time we bought this property, we had talked about learning to live with the wildlife in the area - the deer, the squirrels, the vast number of water birds.
However, when Bob saw the first wood rat, noted for its habit of collecting bright shiny objects and leaving other objects such as nuts and pebbles in their place, scurrying around the garage area, he began to battle these rodents. By this time, our key had disappeared, replaced with a few acorns. Long before we moved into the house, Bob won the battle with the rats, but we never found the missing key. No telling where the varmints had hidden it.
Fast forward more than a dozen years later when we were in the midst of a remodeling project. After workmen had removed the interior wall to the shower area off the master bedroom, one of them brought Bob a key. He had found it behind the old tub. What a surprise! What a talking point! What a memory!
Evidently, the rats had chosen that particular spot to store the shiny key between the time the tub had been installed and all the holes between the garage and the house had been sealed off. During its time in hiding, the key had lost it luster and was now a dull brown.
We frequently hear commentators say, “If only walls could talk” or “I’d like to be a fly on the wall during that conference”. In a way, with the discovery of this key, we feel as if one of our walls talked to us. With this find, we are reminded of our initial intent to live with nature. We did plant our yard in flora unappealing to deer. We learned both from our experiences and those of our neighbors. Forget daylilies unless one can totally fence them off from the wildlife.
And we’ve had a running battle with raccoons. They always win. Some of our neighbors have had trouble with armadillos. Alligators still use our yard as a walkway between the salt water of Hickory Creek and the fresh water of the golf course ponds. So far, we given each other wide berth.
This year, we’ve encountered a new phenomenon. All the neighbors are talking about it. Some have even made special trips by our house to watch a flock of wood storks sun on the open bank of a pond across the street from us. Because it is relatively new and small, we don’t think these birds are there for food. And when the shadows of afternoon fall, they leave for the night to roost in trees. But while the sun is over head, they, like college students heading to Florida beaches for spring break, flock to one particular area on the edge of this tiny watering hole. What a sight.
I’ve never been a human pack rat. Yet more times than not within weeks of discarding a never used item, I will wish that I had kept it. Inevitably within a short period of time, I will need that kitchen utensil with its long handle or tiny pinchers.
However, I am reluctant to let go of those items with a story behind them. In fact, I’ve gradually been adding notes to specific items so that our children will know their history. By far, we’ve furnished our home mostly with items either from Bob’s family or mine. While we’ve always purchased new appliances when needed, we’ve added family heirlooms like the desk from a shrimp boat owned by Bob’s dad to my grandmother’s century old rocking chair. Each piece comes with its own story.
Although Bob keeps the most organized filing cabinets of papers we might ever need, he’s not a pack rat either. Several years ago when I was asked to produce a copy of my teaching certificate from Texas, originally issued in 1958, Bob had the document neatly filed in its own folder. When we’ve had to replace one appliance or another, he immediately discards the old documents before replacing them with the new ones in his filing system.
The newly installed walk-in shower is now firmly in place and all walls and possible holes have been resealed. But the tale of the pack rat and the missing key has led us to take stock anew of our own habits, commitments, and family stories. Sometimes walls actually reveal the secrets that they have guarded, as silent sentries, for ages. And therein always lies another story.
2013
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