As if worrying about reeds wasn't enough . . .

I was handed this little piece of business yesterday when driving into the local cemetery where  I play pipes on occasion.  It seems there was a coyote loitering on the premises a few weeks ago who tried to drag a visiting 3 or 4 year old into the nearby brush for an early lunch. (Or  was it a cougar?  The memory fades.  I suppose if you really want to know you could look it up.  Google knows everything, so they say.)  The mother was nearby and apparently gave the critter a good bash with a handbag or something and rescued the child.  But we have now all been duly warned.  I was used to the warnings on the signs about locking the car doors and not leaving valuables in plain sight.  I suppose there's  nothing for it now but to sharpen up the sgian dubh and try not to forget it when next I'm called for a funeral.

Now that I think about it there's a cemetery out in the valley -- the one where both Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers are buried --  that has signs  posted at regular intervals informing visitors that it is "rattlesnake season" and to be careful where you tread.  (I'm not actually certain what season rattlesnake season is since the signs seem to be permanent.)  I don't think I ever take my eyes off the ground when I play there.