All Creatures Great and Icky! : Boat Critters

We arrived back on our boat after our Christmas vacation in the land of paychecks. Agur’s Wish was pulling gently at her docklines and all looked to be well. We extracted our key from the top secret hiding place that everybody on the dock and quite a few people in the settlement are aware of, just in case someone needs to save her from sinking or burning to the waterline. Or, God forbid, there might be a real emergency like a shortage of rum, in which case the residents of the dock and town know we have enough emergency rations of rum to “float” a small island nation for the foreseeable future.

We descended the companionway into the gloom of the shrouded boat. As we uncovered the hatches, we gasped in horror. Strewn about the boat were remnants of cigarettes chewed down to the filters. The strings of fake plastic limes and lemons that I had hanging in the galley had multiple bite marks in them.

The cap’n and I looked at each other. Which one of our nicotine fiend, tequila deprived, lime-sucking dockmates was to blame? It could be anyone of them.

“I smell a rat!”

Yeppers, in our absence a transient hobo-type critter of the rodent kind had set up camp and was now plotting to hold me prisoner on my own boat. Think Nicole Kidman in the movie “Dead Calm” or Melanie Griffith in “Pacific Heights”. This intruder was hell bent on incessantly teasing, taunting and torturing me.

There was the night I was laying on the settee reading a book, listening to Stanley, the killer bichon, chomping away at his dinner in the galley. But wait a darn minute, Stanley was laying right beside me. That’s what I call teasing and taunting.

Trapping a rodent phobic, incurable insomniac with frequent nocturnal urinary urges in her bunk all night….that’s what I call torture.

Luckily, the cap’n wasn’t as easily cowed and he set to work setting a trap. Later on that night, let’s just say, our uninvited guest found himself in a sticky situation. The cap’n gave him the old “heave-ho”.

And now Mickey, the Mouse, sleeps with the fishes.

Although no worthy first-mate, except me, would lay claim to having such commodious quarters for the formerly described unwanted guest, rodents are actually your common, garden-variety type of vermin that might be found on your boat. Now let’s talk about some of the more exotic varieties that may take up lodging.

I was introduced to one such creature on a bright sunny afternoon while I was diligently cleaning the cockpit and the cap’n was diligently throwing back lethal adult beverages at the Jib Room at the Marsh Harbour Marina..

I was busily scrubbing away, whistling a happy tune when I happened to open a cockpit locker. Staring back at me from the depth of the locker were two bulging yellow eyes.(I swear he had yellow eyes). A viperine (look it up, as Sister Irene used to say) tongue darted at me. There squatting atop the debris was a big, fat, slimy, day-glo lime-green frog.

“Rrrribbett”, it said.

“Eek!” said I, as I slammed the lid and awaited the cap’ns return from his arduous duties on shore.

Once again the cap’n gave the old “heave-ho” and the culprit swam merrily to shore.

Unfortunately, now my fear of opening the cockpit lockers is akin to my fear of highway rest stops. You see, for some reason every time I go into a highway rest stop I fear that I am going to see an amputated body part floating in the toilet. I try to not even look in the toilet. I have no idea where this gruesome irrational fear came from. Believe me, I’ve never seen an amputated body part floating in a toilet. Maybe I’m a little bit crazy. Normal people don’t think about things like that at rest stops. Do you? Ha! Ha! I bet you will now. Gotcha! Anyway, that explains the sorry state of my cockpit lockers.

Both of the previous experiences pale in comparison to what happened to our friends on the s/v Just Dreaming. This happened a couple of years ago and I wrote about it on some of the cruising boards, so if you’ve already read it I apologize. This is what happened.

We received an interesting vessel in distress call to us via VHF yesterday afternoon. I don't know why they thought we could help them with the nature of their distress except it happened to be one of those rare days when the water in Marsh Harbor was clear enough to see the interesting array of nature on our bottomsides.

It seems that the admiral of the distressed boat had been diligently (Ah-ha, a fellow member of the diligent cleaner club) scrubbing the head when she noticed what she thought was algae poking out from under the rim. She immediately armed herself with toilet brush for the attack and the enemy beat a hasty retreat. She decided to flush the area for more traces of enemy insurgents and sure enough more little legs poked through.

Dispersing with the usual regimen of interrogation she went straight to the torture stage and started gingerly tearing off limbs. When the captain and admiral had torn off a respectable amount limbs without gaining any useful intelligence they decided to call us. They now had their own little P.Y.N. (pinch your nose) camp set up in the intake of their head and they had removed all means for their prisoner's escape. You think the Abu Gahraib (sp?) scandal caused a stink.

My captain had indulged in his usual breakfast of Kalik's followed by a nutritious brunch of Rum-N-Ade’s and for some reason couldn't come up with a solution. I muttered, "You suck." My captain replied, "I besh your parshon!" I replied, "Tell him to disconnect his intake hose and apply suction." Sure enough, after just a few seconds of militia strength ShopVac to intake hose and the enemy lay legless and quivering on the floor.

A 3-4 inch slimey Jabba the Hud squid in his last throes. Of course, my captain took all the credit for the successful mission.

So, if some dark, .dark night you find yourself on the throne trickling and you feel something tickling....... Sorry Denny and Diane this one's going 'round the world wide web.