(Culpeper Tire and Auto on Poor Farm Rd. Photo by Chris the owner).

I don’t know if there are more birds of prey down in Culpeper than there used to be or not. My local memory only goes back to 2008. But it certainly seems like there are a lot of hawks and turkey buzzards and crows and other big members of the avian species on patrol over the cleared parcels on our farm road. I was doing something else in the front room and looked out the window to see a BIG shadow arc across the front yard.

I wish them the best in their battle with rodents, open skies and all that, but I would prefer they didn’t get any ideas about me or visiting small dogs.

I was talking with the Russians about the critters at cocktail hour the other day. My neighbor had got his first deer of the season with his new crossbow- a deadly took in the right hands, apparently, and it gives him a head start on the rifle season that starts on 14 November. With all the people crashing around in the woods and all the shooting everyone, two and four legged alike, get a little jumpy.

I reminded myself for the fiftieth time, to staple up the “posted” signs at the head of the driveway.

Then I went back to looking for P245/50ZR16 Indy low-oval tires. The front right on the World’s Fastest Production Pickup Truck was flat as a pancake, a feature I discovered when I backed it out of the garage yesterday. And I was only going to take it to the repair shop anyway and have them look at the rubber and tell me what needed to be replaced.

Timing is everything, as I think we have mentioned before- I drove the truck to town two weeks ago and even put some air in that tire. Must have been going flat right along. I read someplace that the manufacturers are recommending tires be replaced at six years, regardless of tread depth, so I was way overtime even if there were not many miles on the ones I bought more than ten years ago.

So, I had the choice of jacking the truck up, pulling the wheel off, blocking the axle, driving to the tire shop, waiting for them to change the tire, driving back to the farm, jacking the truck back up, re-mounting the new tire and then driving back to the shop while they did the other three.

Why not try the spare? Hell, I don’t even know if there is a spare, much less whether that mechanism that you stick the jack-handle into over the license plat works. I am getting too old for this crap.

Anyway, I found a guy in town who could do what I wanted to do, found the right tires in Delaware, arranged for them to be delivered some day soon, and found a towing service with a flat-bed to just take the truck over to the repair place.

So, the truck chore was at least contained. That moved a bunch of other stuff up the list, since I had done all I could until other people did the right thing. The Explorer in the garage starts and runs fine, and the tires appear good. The dashboard on the big SUV has been yelling at me since before the battery died that it needed an oil change, which is ridiculous, since we had it changed before we put to sleep two years ago. There must be something on the master chip or something connected to duration between changes.

Anyway, the tire shop does oil changes, and I went over to solidify arrangements on the tire delivery and the appointment and nail down the tow truck for the next day. Nailed all that stuff and met some interesting Culpeper people in the process as well. Then, with a happy dashboard, I drove over to the car wash and got her all shiny. So, the list of chores is slightly shorter, though there are some big ones hanging out there.

I got some groceries and drove back to the farm. A Sheriff’s cruiser was on my tail, and the Explorer has Michigan tags, so I minded my manners until the officer turned off Rt 522. Traffic was brisk on the two-lane, and I had to stop for the left turn for a while as cars and trucks braked to a halt behind me.

I don’t like being in that position, since that cross commemorating the death of someone named “Burt” at that very intersection rests within eye-level in the ditch to the right. Eventually there was a hiatus in the oncoming cars and I turned left safely.

(Feral swine in the tall corn. Photo courtesy Virginia Department of Game and Inland Waterways).

So, then I am looking at this boar. No shit. I have never seen one before in the wild. Virginia, feral pigs are defined as “any swine that are wild or for which no proof of ownership can be made.” Color of coat and origin are not considered relevant; a loose group of domestic hog escapees can quickly take on feral characteristics and transition to a thriving, wild population in only a few generations. The County considers any loose hog in the wild is bad news to wildlife and habitat resources.

Virginia is on the front lines of the northward spread of feral hogs in the eastern United States, since once established, they are nearly impossible to eradicate. Adult wild pigs have no natural predators aside from us and exhibit very high reproductive potential. A population can triple in size in less than a year and al half. Seventy percent of a population must be removed each year just to stabilize growth.

Big animal. Not friendly, either, if the stories are to be believed. Sow or Boar, the animal looked at me phlegmatically from the edge of the cornfield. I looked back, and proceeded slowly toward it. I tapped the horn and the pig vanished into the cornrows.

Apparently the animals are considered an invasive species. They have been here on this continent as long as we have, but apparently some folks over at the Rose Hill Preserve on Batna Road organize hog hunts, and may provide the pigs to boot.

(This coyote was sighted over near Midlothian. Photo courtesy of Merle Hirschman).

I dunno. There is more going on out in these woods than I was aware of. A guy came to the gate the other day and offered to kill the coyotes on the property. I told him I wasn’t aware of any, but if I did I would give him a call. There is no bounty on the critters, though they are deemed an invasive species and the season on them is open and unlimited.

With the deer season coming up, maybe the guy just wants to scope out other people’s property and be ready. A little over three weeks to go and I will stay out of the woods altogether until the season is over.

Copyright 2015 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303