|No beavers here, just a drive to the hospital in Wonderful Wyoming|
As I said in the last post the Trucking Tumbleweeds are home for the next couple of months. Himself is recovering from surgery, a high tibial osteotomy. He is walking on crutches and doing pretty well, although still in quite a bit of pain. He's a tough Tumbleweed and won't let me wait on him much, it won't be long before his crutches become weapons.
Since I have no new stories of the trucking life I am going in the Wayback Machine to a time when we were on the road, but with a twist; I am using "The Book of Animal Ignorance" in combination with the Wayback Machine to combine useless animal fact with even more useless Tumbleweed facts.
So there we were last spring in Benton, Arkansas at a Pilot truck stop off of I-30. Himself and I went out for our nightly walk. Truck stops are by default right off the highway, but it is surprising how often we find a field, stream or some other bit of nature to walk near. Hundreds of loud trucks idling or moving around, the smell of exhaust fumes and pee on hot asphalt have a way of making us crave the sights, sounds and smells, of nature.
|Not our beaver but maybe a distant cousin..|
There is a little stream behind this truck stop and we walked along it, down to a culvert where it goes under a busy road. We stopped to look at the little pond of water, not much bigger than a couple of kiddie pools, where it fed into a concrete culvert.