Photography And Half-Thoughts By Mitchell Hegman

...because some of it is pretty and some of it is not.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

The Screaming


Last night, for the third time in my twenty-one years of living out here in the country, I heard the screaming outside my open window.  The screams sprang from someplace in the scattered timber down at the bottom of the arroyo below my house.
The screaming woke me.
What is the screaming thing?
Curled in my bed, I listened to the piercing sound repeating in quick bursts.  Not barking.  Not growling.  Not bleating.  Not yowling.
Close to a wailing.   Then thick silence.
Mountain lion?  Porcupine?  Big?  Small?     
What is the screaming thing?
--Mitchell Hegman

 

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