Porcupine Quills

I ran over a porcupine. It was last night, on my way home from my grandparents'. Katie and I had been up there helping cover some hay, and then we stayed for dinner. Grandma was all apologetic about the quality of the food, which we were devouring with great speed. It was soooo yummmmy. All through dinner Grandpa told us jokes. Here's the one about the I-talians and the Viking:

"So there's this ship of I-talians sailing along the coastline of Norway. They're looking for a good piece of land. When they spot a good place to put in they head for shore, and as they approach they see a Viking standing there waving. When they're nearly ashore the Viking heads back into the woods. 'Strange,' say the I-talians. 'Let's send in a scout to see what's in there.' So they send in a sailor and wait, but he never comes back. So they send in a couple more, and wait. After an hour or so more, no sign of anybody. So they send in a couple more, and then a couple more.... finally, the last couple of sailors wade ashore and head toward the woods. Before they get into the trees, one of their comrades comes crawling toward them, breathing hard. "Stop! No! Don't go in! It's a trap... there's two of 'em!!'"

After our red velvet cake we left for home. When you come down toward Chattaroy from the farm, just where the railroad track used to run, the road gets real curvy and hilly. As I rounded a curve, a huge sphere of spikes loomed up in front of me, illuminated with surreal light and detail in my headlights. I braked but there was no time... that porcupine went right under the car, between the tires. Instantly the air in the car smelled of seared quills on a manifold. I stopped and we looked for the ball-o-spikes, but he was nowhere to be found. Maybe he survived with just a VERY Close Shave. But quills were scattered on the road for many yards around. So far I don't think I have any flat tires.

When dad talked to Grandpa an hour or so later, he told him about my needling experience, and then together they relished a fine memory:

(Dad relates the story)
"You know, when we were loggin' out there on the south side of Peone Prairie on a fine day. You started cuttin' down a tree, and all of a sudden it was rainin'! Well you looked up and there was a porcupine in that tree, so scared he'd peed."

So I just dubbed Peone Prairie "Pee-on Prairie" in grandpa's honor.

Scared the pee right outta that porcupine. hee-hee-hee!