When the Homily is about Immunology

Howling at the moon

Halloween night brought not a single trick o' treater to our home. Fr. Christopher's son had a B-Day party and my kids were there for the majority of the evening. I, on the other hand, rushed over to Central Market after work in order to supply ourselves in case anyone did show.

Rural trick o' treating is tough. In the suburbs or city you needn't walk far at all in order to muster a pillow case full or high fructose corn syrup, artificial flavors, and calories. But, in my neighborhood, where everyone has at least 2.5 acres you could walk all night long and only have enough to provide a days worth of calories for half the planet's inhabitants.

Anyway, despite bad traffic (by Kitsap standards), I still got home before my family, but it was quite dark thanks to the time change. I set about getting wood for the fire (another cold night before the rain came) and getting dinner ready. Susan and the kids arrived shortly thereafter (Actually Dawn kept Kelsey out ToTing with Father and his kids).

Something odd happened though as we were getting the kids ready for bed. Killick starting barking...barking with a deep somewhat threatening tone as if he were making his discontent known. Sue and I both recognized it as such so we called him in from the front door and Sue noted he came swinging round from the north side of the house - pretty much where the forest is.

I'd soon realize what had Killick so perturbed. I had to go outside to take some garbage out when I heard someone or something screaming way back in the woods. It sounded like a sort of "whooooooooooo...wha!" with the "wha" part being a distinctly higher pitch than the "whooo" part. Initially I thought it might be an animal, perhaps even a Sasquatch mating call, but as it was repeated over and over again - perhaps one cry ever 30seconds or so - it became more and more apparent that some person was hollering in the woods on Halloween night.

I went back inside and then out onto the back porch where I figured I could hear it better. Sure enough, somewhere out there in the 700 acre wood someone was doing something. Naturally, being Halloween you start to think Wiccans, but it sounded more like a Native American sort of whoop and so living within reservation land: perhaps a Wiccan Native American? (I don't think Native American's have any particular festival associated with the time of Halloween, do they?) Who could resist the image of a Native American journeying deep into the woods, seeking to reconnect with his ancestors? Hey, I'm part Cherokee...so off goes my clothes and I went barreling through the blackberry bushes in search of a greater consciousness. Whooping as I went.

Or maybe it was just some drunk redneck who got lost in the woods? No, not me.

Either way, he eventually shut up. Perhaps a rabid coon got him or one of the shotgun slugs I kept lobbing off into the woods like an artillery barrage finally hit their mark? Who knows, but either way, quiet was restored.

I have to admit, it was odd and a bit unnerving to hear such a racket coming out of the dark woods behind my house. I much prefer the distant sounds of Poulsbo High School's football games every other friday night. All part of this rural adventure.