Here is Part II. If you haven't read Part I it's available below Part II -- please scroll down, or, go to:
http://moovyboovy.blogspot.com/2010/05/area-51-and-dead-cow-in-middle-of-road_08.html
Area 51 and the Dead Cow in the Middle of the Road
By Alan Green
Part II
Well, how are you liking it so far? The story, that is. Well, good. I'm glad. Then you figure another round is in order? Well, good! I thank you. Bartender! Two more, please.
I'll tell you. Truth be told, I enjoy telling this here story so much, I'd prolly keep on telling it even if you didn't buy another round. Here comes our beers. Mmm...good. Love a frosty one. Thank you bartender, and thank you too, mister. Mmm...
Well, Anyway. Where was we? Oh, Yeah. So, Joe's sitting there about fifty feet or so from that dead cow just a staring, wondering what to do. Well, he cuts the engine of that line-painting rig and listens to that heavy silence -- the kind you get out in the desert -- for a bit to clear his head.
I'll tell you. Truth be told, I enjoy telling this here story so much, I'd prolly keep on telling it even if you didn't buy another round. Here comes our beers. Mmm...good. Love a frosty one. Thank you bartender, and thank you too, mister. Mmm...
Well, Anyway. Where was we? Oh, Yeah. So, Joe's sitting there about fifty feet or so from that dead cow just a staring, wondering what to do. Well, he cuts the engine of that line-painting rig and listens to that heavy silence -- the kind you get out in the desert -- for a bit to clear his head.
What a sight. That carcass in the middle of the road -- weirdest thing I ever saw -- I mean Joe ever saw -- sometimes, I feel like the story happened to me -- Joe tells it so good. He's told me a hundred times if he told me once -- I just feel like it coulda happened to me, is all. Anyway, Joe can't hardly believe his eyes. Blinks a few times like that might help -- make that cow up and go away, like a desert mirage or something. But, it don't go away. Stays right there in the middle of the road -- a big dead, bloated, full-grown bessy cow. Been dead at least one full day from the look, maybe two.
Well, ole Joe, he takes him a coupla sips of that Budweiser, and he realizes he can't do nothing about it. Can't move it -- didn't have a length of rope. Plus, even if he did have some rope, he wouldn't move it. That is -- Joe ain't the type to put forth that kind of effort. Besides, policy says you can't do stuff like that. Yep. If it ain't in your job-description and you ain't been trained and approved to do it, you don't do it. According to policy. Can't. Plus, they got people trained to do that sort of stuff, removing dead animals in a safe manner. Official State people with vans and trucks and special tools. Hell, let them do it! Anyhow, Joe ain't about to try to move no damn cow. Thing must weigh two-thousand pounds, stink like hell, and, and!, be a host to all kind of germs and viruses just crawling around inside waiting to get inside you, make you sick. Naw. Joe just sits there a tick or two -- figures he'll take himself a break on the clock -- drink some beer.
Prolly a mistake, if you ask me. Cause, before you know it Joe's killed half that tall can of Budweiser. Well, he'd already had two, maybe three (he never can remember when he tells it), and, even if he didn't want to admit it, the heat was fierce and you can get dried out real fast. And, drinking beer don't count cause it just dehydrates you faster -- most people don't know that about beer. Joe hadn't had any water that day. No sir, not a drop -- not since breakfast. Normally, it wouldn't mean anything cause, usually, you go for a burger or something at lunch and you have yourself a glass or two of water, or at least a Coke or something. But, out there in the desert there ain't no burger joints, not on that stretch of SR 375 there ain't, and, sure enough Joe was a bit dehydrated.
Well, most city folk don't have to deal with it, but folks out in these parts know when you get dehydrated your judgement gets funny -- gets harder to make decisions, at least good ones. Sometimes you get tipsy, too -- have balance issues (which of course would be worse if you was already tipsy from drinking). And, (and this is important), you get skittish -- paranoid -- about almost anything. Don't know why, just goes with it. Well, Joe had to admit, he was showing a little bit of all them symptoms. Said he was feeling woozy, was having trouble thinking, and, well, he was getting spooked again. 'Freaked out', like the kids say. So, bottom line was, Joe was a bit looped on those beers, had a good case of the heebie-jeebies, and was just plain dried out -- needed water. And all that's made worse by the fact that Joe had stopped that line-painting rig of his directly in front of one of them signs and one of them surveillance cameras. Right, directly in front. 'ALIENS IN HERE! SCARY STUFF INSIDE! DON'T YOU DARE COME IN! DON'T MAKE US ZAP YOU! OH, AND WE'RE WATCHING EVERY MOVE YOU MAKE WITH THESE HERE CAMERAS'! Sheesh. Put Joe in a state.
Well, most city folk don't have to deal with it, but folks out in these parts know when you get dehydrated your judgement gets funny -- gets harder to make decisions, at least good ones. Sometimes you get tipsy, too -- have balance issues (which of course would be worse if you was already tipsy from drinking). And, (and this is important), you get skittish -- paranoid -- about almost anything. Don't know why, just goes with it. Well, Joe had to admit, he was showing a little bit of all them symptoms. Said he was feeling woozy, was having trouble thinking, and, well, he was getting spooked again. 'Freaked out', like the kids say. So, bottom line was, Joe was a bit looped on those beers, had a good case of the heebie-jeebies, and was just plain dried out -- needed water. And all that's made worse by the fact that Joe had stopped that line-painting rig of his directly in front of one of them signs and one of them surveillance cameras. Right, directly in front. 'ALIENS IN HERE! SCARY STUFF INSIDE! DON'T YOU DARE COME IN! DON'T MAKE US ZAP YOU! OH, AND WE'RE WATCHING EVERY MOVE YOU MAKE WITH THESE HERE CAMERAS'! Sheesh. Put Joe in a state.
Well, anyway. Joe's trying to choke back the skitters and feeling dumb about it. He's already decided he ain't going to do anything about that cow, per se, but now he's wondering what to do in general. Just sit there? Turn around? Call it in? That's when he looks, can't help himself -- one more time -- at that sign, 'ALIENS IN HERE'... Then up at the camera right above it -- like a big bug's eye watching him. That decided it for him. Without taking his eyes off that sign Joe reaches for the radio mic and keys it. Figured he'd call it in -- which is proper procedure -- but, it also gives Joe a chance to talk to another human being and tell 'em what he'd seen -- which he was feeling the need to do about that time.
Well, Joe keys the mic, and lo and behold, there ain't no answer. Just static. Now, this gets him sorta panicky. He tries again, and again -- nothing, just static. Then he thinks he hears MaryAnn's voice -- MaryAnn, she's the girl that runs the dispatch desk for the Division of Highways -- Joe thinks he hears her voice, just for a second, but he can't be sure cause it's so weak and weird sounding -- what Joe calls 'distorted'. Well, you can imagine. Joe's already jumpy about them signs and cameras, and the big double fence with razor-wire -- not to mention that damn dead cow -- he's already so worked up about them things that when he couldn't reach nobody on the radio it just about pushed him over the edge! Yessir, it did! And, not only that, but hearing, or barely hearing, what he thought was MaryAnn's voice real faint on the radio made it worse! He says that -- every time he tells it -- Joe says the same thing: 'It woulda scared me less if I hadn't heard MaryAnn's voice all distorted and broken up' -- that's what he says...every time. Yep, as if hearing nothing at all woulda been better.
So, now Joe has to admit it -- he's a little drunk, a little scared, and more than a little dehydrated. So, level-headed kinda guy he is he figures there's one solution to all his problems -- water. So, he gets his water bottle out and drinks half of it right down -- which ain't a smart thing if you're dried out, but he does it. Well, in just a few seconds his eyes get wet again and he can see better, his stomach unclenches, the wooziness goes away -- he just plain feels better. Said it cleared his head pretty good -- he felt like he could deal with the situation.
So, Joe gets out of his vehicle and starts to walk toward the cow. But, then he stops when he remembers the video camera -- the one Delores and her husband gave him for his birthday a coupla days earlier -- the one he was going to use to shoot that long boring movie of the two-lane unspooling in front of him. He always tells me the same thing right about here -- he always says he was glad to have that damn video camera -- even though he felt it was a lousy gift and he pretty much disdained Delores and her college-educated husband for giving it to him. That's a funny thing, you know -- how you can feel happy and angry about a thing at the same time. Anyway, Joe was glad to have that camera -- figured he'd have a hard time getting anybody to believe such a crazy story if he didn't have pictures to prove it. Says folks might just laugh at him.
So, Joe goes back to the rig and gets the camera. Well, he ain't no Steven Spielberg, but he was able to get that thing working. (All he had to do was press 'record'). So, it's going and Joe's looking at the little TV on the back of the camera at a shot of his dirty work boots. He pans up and points the camera at the cow. Then, he stops it and replays the video, you know, to make sure it's working. Then, he says something funny. And, this part always gives me the creeps. Every time, even though I know it's coming. Joe says the camera worked fine -- the picture looked just fine -- and when he looked at those few seconds of video of that dead cow it was scarier than any horror movie he ever saw. That's what he says! He says he looked at that cow on the little TV on the back of the camera like he was expecting it -- the cow, that is -- to move, turn and look at him, or just get up and walk away. And it was the fact that it was on video that made it worse. Not what you'd expect -- Joe said he could look right at that cow with his own eyes and not be so affected, not be so scared of it. But, he says that when he looked at the video of it, well, there was just something about that picture that made it scarier than the real thing. Yessir!
Now, if you never saw a dead beast, I mean one that's died out where the sun's hot, then you might not know what they look like and, well, this next part might gross you out a bit. See, when a animal dies out in the desert the gasses start building up and it bloats up -- real big, sometimes so much you'd think it's a gonna pop. After a day or two it looks like someone stuck a air hose in it and blowed it up -- sorta like one of them big balloons shaped like cute animals and cartoon characters in that parade they got every year in New York City. Sorta like that. But, the real thing, laying next to the road, ain't funny -- it's just gross. The legs, see...they spread -- wide -- from the bloating. It's, um...a bit obscene, if you ask me. And the skin is stretched tight -- real tight -- from all the gasses built up inside. Like it might bust any second. Nasty.
Joe says he remembers that puffed up dead cow like it was yesterday -- it was laying there with its hind legs -- spread wide from the bloating -- they were on Joe's left, you see. And the front legs -- also spread wide -- they was on Joe's right. And the cow's belly was facing him. He couldn't see the face nor even the head cause of the angle the neck was twisted at.
So, Joe goes back to the rig and gets the camera. Well, he ain't no Steven Spielberg, but he was able to get that thing working. (All he had to do was press 'record'). So, it's going and Joe's looking at the little TV on the back of the camera at a shot of his dirty work boots. He pans up and points the camera at the cow. Then, he stops it and replays the video, you know, to make sure it's working. Then, he says something funny. And, this part always gives me the creeps. Every time, even though I know it's coming. Joe says the camera worked fine -- the picture looked just fine -- and when he looked at those few seconds of video of that dead cow it was scarier than any horror movie he ever saw. That's what he says! He says he looked at that cow on the little TV on the back of the camera like he was expecting it -- the cow, that is -- to move, turn and look at him, or just get up and walk away. And it was the fact that it was on video that made it worse. Not what you'd expect -- Joe said he could look right at that cow with his own eyes and not be so affected, not be so scared of it. But, he says that when he looked at the video of it, well, there was just something about that picture that made it scarier than the real thing. Yessir!
Now, if you never saw a dead beast, I mean one that's died out where the sun's hot, then you might not know what they look like and, well, this next part might gross you out a bit. See, when a animal dies out in the desert the gasses start building up and it bloats up -- real big, sometimes so much you'd think it's a gonna pop. After a day or two it looks like someone stuck a air hose in it and blowed it up -- sorta like one of them big balloons shaped like cute animals and cartoon characters in that parade they got every year in New York City. Sorta like that. But, the real thing, laying next to the road, ain't funny -- it's just gross. The legs, see...they spread -- wide -- from the bloating. It's, um...a bit obscene, if you ask me. And the skin is stretched tight -- real tight -- from all the gasses built up inside. Like it might bust any second. Nasty.
Joe says he remembers that puffed up dead cow like it was yesterday -- it was laying there with its hind legs -- spread wide from the bloating -- they were on Joe's left, you see. And the front legs -- also spread wide -- they was on Joe's right. And the cow's belly was facing him. He couldn't see the face nor even the head cause of the angle the neck was twisted at.
Anyway, Joe buckles down and gets his mind under control. Takes a few deep breaths. Then, he starts shooting video again now that he's sure he can work the camera right. Starts walking toward the cow -- like I said it was maybe fifty feet away from where he stopped the line-painting rig. Well, he don't have to walk more than a few seconds before he smells it. Whew! Nasty -- hell, that kinda stench almost gives the word a whole new meaning. I've smelled it a coupla times -- once was a horse that got hit by a eighteen-wheeler, other time it was a just a dog -- but both times that meat had been laying out in the sun for a coupla days -- yessir! I know how fierce bad a smell it is. A ton of fetid cow...
Mmm...good beer. Still cold. Anyway, Joe says he liked to gag on that smell. Had to stop and get used to it a bit -- breathe through his mouth some. Then, he gets this unusual notion -- unusual, but I'll be damned if it didn't make sense. Joe figured that if he took some really big whiffs of that smell, his nose would get used to it, and that way he could get closer for some better video. (Why the hell he wanted to get closer I'll never know, but he was driven by something, that's for sure). So, Joe just stands there -- he's maybe twenty feet away now -- and he starts taking real deep breaths through his nose. In and out, in and out. Said it worked! Didn't smell as bad. Said his nose musta got used to it some. Can you beat that? Then he moves closer -- maybe six, or, ten feet closer -- now, he's right on top of the thing practically, and he commences to taking even deeper breaths through his nose -- to acclimate it to the stench -- which is quite a bit stronger now. Well, Joe says it worked pretty good. Not great -- that cow still smelled like a dumpster full of month-old hamburger on a summer day -- but, Joe says he didn't feel quite as sick -- not no more -- and he didn't mind the smell as much.
Mmm...good beer. Still cold. Anyway, Joe says he liked to gag on that smell. Had to stop and get used to it a bit -- breathe through his mouth some. Then, he gets this unusual notion -- unusual, but I'll be damned if it didn't make sense. Joe figured that if he took some really big whiffs of that smell, his nose would get used to it, and that way he could get closer for some better video. (Why the hell he wanted to get closer I'll never know, but he was driven by something, that's for sure). So, Joe just stands there -- he's maybe twenty feet away now -- and he starts taking real deep breaths through his nose. In and out, in and out. Said it worked! Didn't smell as bad. Said his nose musta got used to it some. Can you beat that? Then he moves closer -- maybe six, or, ten feet closer -- now, he's right on top of the thing practically, and he commences to taking even deeper breaths through his nose -- to acclimate it to the stench -- which is quite a bit stronger now. Well, Joe says it worked pretty good. Not great -- that cow still smelled like a dumpster full of month-old hamburger on a summer day -- but, Joe says he didn't feel quite as sick -- not no more -- and he didn't mind the smell as much.
Well, now, this next part you're gonna think is just something a coupla old codgers got together and made up over a few bottles of suds, but, there's proof -- that video. Like I said. And, if you want to you can see it I'll tell you where you can find it on the internet -- If you're interested, that is. Anyway, here's what happened next. Now that Joe's up good and close and can get a better angle on that cow, he starts that video camera going again. Well, Joe always gets a little embarrassed about this next part, but, he decided maybe there wasn't enough information on that video for anyone who might be watching, later that is, to fully understand what was going on. So, he turns around and shoots some footage of his line-painting rig and the road back thata way, then he turns and points the camera out at the desert -- ain't a damn thing out there -- then, he turns all the way around and points it at that double fence and razor wire on top of it, then he points the camera at the sign on the fence, and then he zoomed in close so you could read it good, then he gets a shot of the surveillance cameras. Then, he points that camera right back at the cow so now you got a good idea of the setting. Joe calls it his 'Master Shot' -- I don't know for sure what that means but Joe said it put a smile on his face. But then, it occurred to Joe that he was missing a shot of the sky, so he pans up and shoots that beautiful clear blue sky, and it dawns on him that something's missing. Joe takes his eyes off that little TV and looks at the sky -- crystal clear and empty as can be. And, that's what strikes him as wrong. He realizes there ain't no buzzards. He says that's when his smile went away.
I can see you don't get it. Lemme explain. See, you can't, and I mean can't, have a dead thing out in the desert without having every vulture for miles come swooping in for a meal. See? There ain't no food to spare out here and survival of the fittest is the hard rule, and the fittest don't miss a meal -- not for any reason. Now, them buzzards can see for miles -- ten, maybe even twenty. They'll see a dead rat off a coupla miles no problem -- I've seen 'em come in outta nowhere and pick at a dead rat or a dead rabbit, or whatever. Seen it myself. And, it ain't but a coupla minutes before a more join in the meal. And, that's with something small -- there ain't no way, out here where the air's so clear, that a buzzard could fail to spot a dead cow, especially one that's laying out in plain sight in the middle of a two-lane road. No way in hell. No sir.
Now, Joe knew this, and the sight of that clear beautiful sky sent chills down his spine. It was just too weird. Well, by now, Joe's journalistic instincts were getting pretty good so he figures he should get a shot of the entire sky, so he pans the camera from horizon to horizon. There ain't not even one buzzard circling. Not one. Totally empty sky from one side to the other. Now, at first Joe is just perplexed. Why in the hell wouldn't there be any buzzards circling this cow waiting for him, Joe that is, to get outta there so they can go back to feeding on it? Then, he takes a better look at the carcass, now that he's only a few feet away from it, and he notices it ain't been picked at by buzzards. Not at all. The skin is stretched tight, and it ain't been pecked.
That's when poor ole Joe goes from being perplexed to outright befuddled. Now, it's already noonish, or thereabouts, and them birds shoulda been eating on that cow all morning, and probably woulda been eating on it the previous day. Hell, there shoulda been most of the buzzards in this part of the state fighting for their share of that flesh. But, weren't none. Anyway, the point is, between vultures during the day, coyotes at night, and every kind of beetle, bug, worm, and fly in the meantime, that cow shoulda been stripped down to the bone. But, it weren't. Weren't even touched. No, sir!
That's when curiosity got the best of Joe and he went around to the front end of ole bessy and looked at her head -- her face. Well, damn if that cow still had both its eyes. The eyes hadn't been pecked out. Not only that, they was open and staring at Joe, and they had this terrified look. That cow was mighty frightened right as it died. Yessir. Chilled poor Joe to the bone to look into them. Now, the eyes -- it ain't so much the expression in 'em that's important -- a lot of animals will have a scared look when you find them dead. The thing about the eyes that's important is they is what buzzards will go for first. Usually, it's the dominant alpha-type that'll have dibs on the eyes. He'll peck them right out and gobble 'em down while the other buzzard keep their distance and watch -- or maybe go around the other side and settle for some other part. Don't know what's so special about eyes, but a dead animal usually loses them first thing. Nothing's missing from that cow's face. It's the same as the day it was born. That bessy had a face as pretty as a bloated ole dead cow's face can be.
Well, about this time Joe's mind is all a swirl and he can't make heads nor tails of the situation. But, he's still got enough sense about him to make another observation about that carcass. There weren't no flies. Yep. Not a one. No flies, fleas, flesh eating beetles, nor grubs a burrowing -- nothing. And that's when poor ole Joe has to wonder if he's seeing things. See, maybe, somehow, you might could keep a dead cow a secret from buzzards -- who knows...maybe if the wind's blowing just right. But, there ain't no way you can keep such a thing from insects. Why, you so much as spit in the desert and before you know it there's flies and bugs a drinking up it up. Just nature's way. And, Joe was about losing his wits wondering about the strangeness of it -- 'how something can be dead out here in the desert without Mother Nature finishing the process' -- when it dawns on him that there's only one thing that can keep them buzzards and the flies and insects away -- radiation. Yessir! That's what Joe figures.
Well, you can imagine how that made his blood run cold. It scared Joe more than any other thing that had happened. He starts wondering how much of a dose of atomic poisoning he might already have soaked up and whether it was too late to get medical help and whether he might die a gory death, all coughing and spitting with tubes coming out his body every which way, and nothing the doctors can do. Well, he was just about green in the gills, when reason kicked in and saved the day. Joe figured, what the hell, a buzzard can't tell if something is radioactive or not. All a buzzard cares about is whether a thing's dead -- and if it stinks a bit, that's prolly fine too. So, if the cow was radioactive the buzzards still shoulda pecked at it. They might have died themselves from eating poisoned meat, but they woulda gnawed on that cow. Well, no buzzards had gnawed on it. So, Joe figured that cow wasn't radioactive after all. No, sir! And, that surely came as a relief.
Mmm...good beer. Well, Joe stops the camera and he walks around the carcass until he's back where he started -- at its belly. He just stands there. Still perplexed as to what killed that cow. So, he figures he'll look around for clues. No broken glass -- like from a car's windshield after a crash -- no skid marks, no footprints. Just weren't any indication as to what might have happened or how that cow had come to be there. Joe turns the video camera off and turns around and looks back at his line-painting rig. He was starting to formulate the opinion that, if he couldn't reach MaryAnn on the radio, he might as well start thinking about driving that rig around that cow and painting them lines on the other side of it and head on to Crystal Springs and meet up with his partner for a ride back to the station. (Figured he'd just skip lunch considering how much time the incident had already cost him).
Well, ole Joe had just about decided that was what he was going to do when he heard this sound -- from behind him, coming from that dead cow. Lemme take a little break here and get a coupla swigs in me. Mmm... Sorry, but this part...I can't help it, it just gets me. Like one of them old black and white creep shows that come on TV real late when I was a kid. Mmm... Used to scare the hell outta me. Mmm... So, there's this sound and Joe doesn't whirl around like most folks would. Naw. See, Joe's a pretty good hunter and all hunters know that you don't make any sudden moves when you hear something, so Joe just stands there real still, facing his rig -- his back to that cow, and he listens. It's a strange sorta ugly sound, like a slick, wet thing being dragged or picked up -- like a rag in Jello, or something. Well, Joe turns around real slow and looks at that cow and there ain't nothing changed. Now, Joe's looking right at the cow and he hears the sound again -- slick and wet -- except this time there's another sound -- more of a slurping sound, like maybe a dog drinking water, or someone taking a long draw on a slurpy or slushy that's just about empty, you know.
Well, Joe figures it must be gas -- from the decomposition -- moving around inside that cow that was making the noise. A simple, if gross, explanation. So, Joe's pretty amused, and he's listening for the next of them slurpy sounds -- like a kid waiting to hear a fart -- when he says he sees something move inside that cow's belly. Or, he thought he did. Damnedest thing. Well, he waits, and after a few seconds he sees it again -- a protrusion or bump, Joe says, moving from one side of that cow's belly to the other. You could see it -- like someone moving the end of a baseball bat back and forth inside that cow's belly. Joe says he couldn't help himself, he just jumps back about two or three feet and has to clamp his mouth to keep from yelping. Well, shit. I don't blame him. I'd be freaked out, too. Wouldn't you? I mean, can you imagine? Some...thing moving inside the stomach of a dead cow? That would make most people jump, I reckon.
Well, Joe gets his mental focus back (by now he's been in so many weird situations and figured out a explanation for all of them...well, he's a pro by this time). Joe gets his mind focused and he figures out what it was. A Gila monster. Sure! (Uh, 'Gila' is spelled with a G but pronounced 'Heela'). Gila monster. Ugly lizard that lives in the desert. Poisonous, but real slow moving so you don't have to worry about being bitten by one unless you're dumb enough to pick it up. Anyway, cause the Gila monster is so slow its diet's mainly made up of eggs. They got such a good sense of smell the can find eggs whether they're buried in a burrow under ground, or in a nest up in a cactus. Well, also because it's so slow, the Gila lizard don't chase after prey -- couldn't never catch its dinner! But, they will feed on carrion. Almost anything as long as it's dead and, therefore, not running away. Anyway, that's what ole Joe figured it had to be -- a Gila monster swishing around inside that cow just a gorging itself on all that flesh.
That's all it was. Had to be. Another mystery solved, or so Joe thought. But, then Joe gets to thinking: 'How come there ain't no buzzards or even flies, but there's a Gila monster feeding off this cow'? When he first told me that, that he had wondered about that, I have to admit I was impressed. Real impressed. Hell, by that part of the story I had done forgot about the lack of buzzards and flies. But, Joe had thought of it despite everything. I was surely impressed.
Mmm...good beer. Anyway, that made a lot of sense -- why in the hell was there a Gila monster rooting around inside that cow when there weren't no buzzards nor flies? And, just about then that protrusion, or bump, goes sliding by from one side of that cow's belly to the other. Well, Joe doesn't miss a beat. He figures the incident is just too weird and titillating for him to leave anything to chance, so he fires up that video camera again and starts taping so he can prove his story is true.
So, Joe's video-taping that protrusion move back and forth again and again inside the tight skin of that cow's bloated stomach when he has another revelation. He figures maybe it ain't a Gila monster inside that cow. Yessir! It ain't and Joe knows why: a Gila monster wouldn't scare off buzzards, and it couldn't scare off flies, so -- it ain't no Gila monster inside that cow.
The first time I heard that it knocked me back on my heels, I can tell you that. Can't lie. What the hell could do that? What could scare buzzards and flies off? Mmm...good beer.
And, just then Joe sees that protrusion go back and forth again, but this time there was a sound -- a new sound -- that accompanied it. Joe says it was a sort of squeak, or squeal -- real high-pitched like a pig or a bird. And, just then that protrusion stopped moving -- it was still making the skin of that cow's stomach stick out, but it wasn't moving. Just stopped, right in the middle of the belly, pointing right at Joe. Then, there was this high-pitched squealing again, except now there was another sound on top of the squeal -- a click. Click, click, click. The squealing and the clicking was going at the same time, real rhythmic -- like a clock ticking. Squeal, tick, squeal, click. Over and over.
Well, Joe had stepped back without even knowing it. He was still video taping, recording both the picture and the sound, but he had stepped back a few feet. Just then, the noise stopped -- both the squeal and the clicking. And, then, that's when the protrusion sorta went away a little -- not all the way, but most of the way. Now, Joe, he knows -- he can tell -- something's about to happen. So, he stands there shooting video as best he can -- he's holding that camera as still as he can even though he's kinda nervous and his hands were shaking a bit. And then, there's a rumble, or a growling sort of snort come from inside that cow. And, Joe, he says he was about to run, that snorting sounded so strange and threatening -- like a warning. And, just when you figure it couldn't get no worse, that protrusion sticks out, way out -- like someone inside sticking the end of a baseball bat against the inside of that cow's stomach as hard as they can. Joe said that skin of the cow's belly stuck out maybe a foot.
Joe says he was almost sick at the sight -- and the sounds. That protrusion pushing that dead cow's taught skin so far out it might pop any second, and that sound -- that growl, and that snorting. And it seemed that whatever was in there was had eaten its fill and was ready to come out.
Joe says he didn't know what to do -- puke or run. Well, he didn't do neither, even though he felt like doing both. He stood there and watched and video taped what was happening. And, it's right about here, when Joe gets to this same spot in the story, every time, that he looks me in the eye real steady and says, "That's when I knew for sure there weren't no buzzards nor flies because of what was crawling around inside that dead cow. And, whatever it was, it was about to come outta there."
Part III can be read here:
http://moovyboovy.blogspot.com/2010/05/area-51-and-dead-cow-part-iii.html
That's when poor ole Joe goes from being perplexed to outright befuddled. Now, it's already noonish, or thereabouts, and them birds shoulda been eating on that cow all morning, and probably woulda been eating on it the previous day. Hell, there shoulda been most of the buzzards in this part of the state fighting for their share of that flesh. But, weren't none. Anyway, the point is, between vultures during the day, coyotes at night, and every kind of beetle, bug, worm, and fly in the meantime, that cow shoulda been stripped down to the bone. But, it weren't. Weren't even touched. No, sir!
That's when curiosity got the best of Joe and he went around to the front end of ole bessy and looked at her head -- her face. Well, damn if that cow still had both its eyes. The eyes hadn't been pecked out. Not only that, they was open and staring at Joe, and they had this terrified look. That cow was mighty frightened right as it died. Yessir. Chilled poor Joe to the bone to look into them. Now, the eyes -- it ain't so much the expression in 'em that's important -- a lot of animals will have a scared look when you find them dead. The thing about the eyes that's important is they is what buzzards will go for first. Usually, it's the dominant alpha-type that'll have dibs on the eyes. He'll peck them right out and gobble 'em down while the other buzzard keep their distance and watch -- or maybe go around the other side and settle for some other part. Don't know what's so special about eyes, but a dead animal usually loses them first thing. Nothing's missing from that cow's face. It's the same as the day it was born. That bessy had a face as pretty as a bloated ole dead cow's face can be.
Well, about this time Joe's mind is all a swirl and he can't make heads nor tails of the situation. But, he's still got enough sense about him to make another observation about that carcass. There weren't no flies. Yep. Not a one. No flies, fleas, flesh eating beetles, nor grubs a burrowing -- nothing. And that's when poor ole Joe has to wonder if he's seeing things. See, maybe, somehow, you might could keep a dead cow a secret from buzzards -- who knows...maybe if the wind's blowing just right. But, there ain't no way you can keep such a thing from insects. Why, you so much as spit in the desert and before you know it there's flies and bugs a drinking up it up. Just nature's way. And, Joe was about losing his wits wondering about the strangeness of it -- 'how something can be dead out here in the desert without Mother Nature finishing the process' -- when it dawns on him that there's only one thing that can keep them buzzards and the flies and insects away -- radiation. Yessir! That's what Joe figures.
Well, you can imagine how that made his blood run cold. It scared Joe more than any other thing that had happened. He starts wondering how much of a dose of atomic poisoning he might already have soaked up and whether it was too late to get medical help and whether he might die a gory death, all coughing and spitting with tubes coming out his body every which way, and nothing the doctors can do. Well, he was just about green in the gills, when reason kicked in and saved the day. Joe figured, what the hell, a buzzard can't tell if something is radioactive or not. All a buzzard cares about is whether a thing's dead -- and if it stinks a bit, that's prolly fine too. So, if the cow was radioactive the buzzards still shoulda pecked at it. They might have died themselves from eating poisoned meat, but they woulda gnawed on that cow. Well, no buzzards had gnawed on it. So, Joe figured that cow wasn't radioactive after all. No, sir! And, that surely came as a relief.
Mmm...good beer. Well, Joe stops the camera and he walks around the carcass until he's back where he started -- at its belly. He just stands there. Still perplexed as to what killed that cow. So, he figures he'll look around for clues. No broken glass -- like from a car's windshield after a crash -- no skid marks, no footprints. Just weren't any indication as to what might have happened or how that cow had come to be there. Joe turns the video camera off and turns around and looks back at his line-painting rig. He was starting to formulate the opinion that, if he couldn't reach MaryAnn on the radio, he might as well start thinking about driving that rig around that cow and painting them lines on the other side of it and head on to Crystal Springs and meet up with his partner for a ride back to the station. (Figured he'd just skip lunch considering how much time the incident had already cost him).
Well, ole Joe had just about decided that was what he was going to do when he heard this sound -- from behind him, coming from that dead cow. Lemme take a little break here and get a coupla swigs in me. Mmm... Sorry, but this part...I can't help it, it just gets me. Like one of them old black and white creep shows that come on TV real late when I was a kid. Mmm... Used to scare the hell outta me. Mmm... So, there's this sound and Joe doesn't whirl around like most folks would. Naw. See, Joe's a pretty good hunter and all hunters know that you don't make any sudden moves when you hear something, so Joe just stands there real still, facing his rig -- his back to that cow, and he listens. It's a strange sorta ugly sound, like a slick, wet thing being dragged or picked up -- like a rag in Jello, or something. Well, Joe turns around real slow and looks at that cow and there ain't nothing changed. Now, Joe's looking right at the cow and he hears the sound again -- slick and wet -- except this time there's another sound -- more of a slurping sound, like maybe a dog drinking water, or someone taking a long draw on a slurpy or slushy that's just about empty, you know.
Well, Joe figures it must be gas -- from the decomposition -- moving around inside that cow that was making the noise. A simple, if gross, explanation. So, Joe's pretty amused, and he's listening for the next of them slurpy sounds -- like a kid waiting to hear a fart -- when he says he sees something move inside that cow's belly. Or, he thought he did. Damnedest thing. Well, he waits, and after a few seconds he sees it again -- a protrusion or bump, Joe says, moving from one side of that cow's belly to the other. You could see it -- like someone moving the end of a baseball bat back and forth inside that cow's belly. Joe says he couldn't help himself, he just jumps back about two or three feet and has to clamp his mouth to keep from yelping. Well, shit. I don't blame him. I'd be freaked out, too. Wouldn't you? I mean, can you imagine? Some...thing moving inside the stomach of a dead cow? That would make most people jump, I reckon.
Well, Joe gets his mental focus back (by now he's been in so many weird situations and figured out a explanation for all of them...well, he's a pro by this time). Joe gets his mind focused and he figures out what it was. A Gila monster. Sure! (Uh, 'Gila' is spelled with a G but pronounced 'Heela'). Gila monster. Ugly lizard that lives in the desert. Poisonous, but real slow moving so you don't have to worry about being bitten by one unless you're dumb enough to pick it up. Anyway, cause the Gila monster is so slow its diet's mainly made up of eggs. They got such a good sense of smell the can find eggs whether they're buried in a burrow under ground, or in a nest up in a cactus. Well, also because it's so slow, the Gila lizard don't chase after prey -- couldn't never catch its dinner! But, they will feed on carrion. Almost anything as long as it's dead and, therefore, not running away. Anyway, that's what ole Joe figured it had to be -- a Gila monster swishing around inside that cow just a gorging itself on all that flesh.
That's all it was. Had to be. Another mystery solved, or so Joe thought. But, then Joe gets to thinking: 'How come there ain't no buzzards or even flies, but there's a Gila monster feeding off this cow'? When he first told me that, that he had wondered about that, I have to admit I was impressed. Real impressed. Hell, by that part of the story I had done forgot about the lack of buzzards and flies. But, Joe had thought of it despite everything. I was surely impressed.
Mmm...good beer. Anyway, that made a lot of sense -- why in the hell was there a Gila monster rooting around inside that cow when there weren't no buzzards nor flies? And, just about then that protrusion, or bump, goes sliding by from one side of that cow's belly to the other. Well, Joe doesn't miss a beat. He figures the incident is just too weird and titillating for him to leave anything to chance, so he fires up that video camera again and starts taping so he can prove his story is true.
So, Joe's video-taping that protrusion move back and forth again and again inside the tight skin of that cow's bloated stomach when he has another revelation. He figures maybe it ain't a Gila monster inside that cow. Yessir! It ain't and Joe knows why: a Gila monster wouldn't scare off buzzards, and it couldn't scare off flies, so -- it ain't no Gila monster inside that cow.
The first time I heard that it knocked me back on my heels, I can tell you that. Can't lie. What the hell could do that? What could scare buzzards and flies off? Mmm...good beer.
And, just then Joe sees that protrusion go back and forth again, but this time there was a sound -- a new sound -- that accompanied it. Joe says it was a sort of squeak, or squeal -- real high-pitched like a pig or a bird. And, just then that protrusion stopped moving -- it was still making the skin of that cow's stomach stick out, but it wasn't moving. Just stopped, right in the middle of the belly, pointing right at Joe. Then, there was this high-pitched squealing again, except now there was another sound on top of the squeal -- a click. Click, click, click. The squealing and the clicking was going at the same time, real rhythmic -- like a clock ticking. Squeal, tick, squeal, click. Over and over.
Well, Joe had stepped back without even knowing it. He was still video taping, recording both the picture and the sound, but he had stepped back a few feet. Just then, the noise stopped -- both the squeal and the clicking. And, then, that's when the protrusion sorta went away a little -- not all the way, but most of the way. Now, Joe, he knows -- he can tell -- something's about to happen. So, he stands there shooting video as best he can -- he's holding that camera as still as he can even though he's kinda nervous and his hands were shaking a bit. And then, there's a rumble, or a growling sort of snort come from inside that cow. And, Joe, he says he was about to run, that snorting sounded so strange and threatening -- like a warning. And, just when you figure it couldn't get no worse, that protrusion sticks out, way out -- like someone inside sticking the end of a baseball bat against the inside of that cow's stomach as hard as they can. Joe said that skin of the cow's belly stuck out maybe a foot.
Joe says he was almost sick at the sight -- and the sounds. That protrusion pushing that dead cow's taught skin so far out it might pop any second, and that sound -- that growl, and that snorting. And it seemed that whatever was in there was had eaten its fill and was ready to come out.
Joe says he didn't know what to do -- puke or run. Well, he didn't do neither, even though he felt like doing both. He stood there and watched and video taped what was happening. And, it's right about here, when Joe gets to this same spot in the story, every time, that he looks me in the eye real steady and says, "That's when I knew for sure there weren't no buzzards nor flies because of what was crawling around inside that dead cow. And, whatever it was, it was about to come outta there."
Part III can be read here:
http://moovyboovy.blogspot.com/2010/05/area-51-and-dead-cow-part-iii.html
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