A CRUSHED RAT AND A BURIAL AT SEA

If you were to consult a map of the northeast you would find that Lake Champlain (located on the state line between NY and VT) is shaped a bit like a tadpole facing north. The lake is larger than most people realize, encompassing roughly 490 square miles. It is over one-hundred miles long, and at its widest point (near Burlington, VT) it is twelve miles from shore to shore. As you go south the lake tapers to a thin tadpole's tail, which winds serpentine through the low-lying hills, and resembling a river more than a lake.

Here's something interesting about Lake Champlain- When a strong wind blows out of the north it takes all of those miles of water to the north and pushes them down into the thin, tapering tadpole's tail. I have read that the water level can rise in the southern end of the lake by as much as four feet in such a scenario.

I have an aluminum row boat back there. One spring day I had pulled it out of the water onto the shore below the house. To avoid scuffing the boat on the rocky shore I used some driftwood logs as skids to pull the boat out. Then I left the boat rightside up and went up to the house. That night it started to storm. It was raining hard, really hard, and the wind was blowing out of the north, pushing and piling all of that water down into the narrow tadpole's tail. I decided to go check on my boat. I was worried that if the boat filled with water the added weight might cause the boat to roll along the driftwood logs and go right out into the lake. As I made my way down to the shore I could hear the waves crashing against the hull of the boat and that's when I was startled to realize that the lake had risen several feet. I had pulled the boat well away from the water's edge, but that north wind was threatening to claim it.

By the time I got down to the boat I was soaked, shivering and miserable. The boat was a third filled with water so I reasoned that if I kicked out the rear-most skid the water wouold flow back toward the stern and act as an anchor to keep the boat from slipping along the foremost skid. I should have flipped the boat over, but like I said I was feeling pretty cold and miserable, and that was going to take some effort. So I quickly kicked out the rear skid and the boat crashed down into the rocky shore.

The next morning when I came down in the sunshine to pour the water out of my boat I found a crushed rat underneath it. No doubt he was a migrant from one of the nearby dairy farms. He must have sought shelter from the storm under the boat and when I kicked out the skid the water-filled boat must have crashed down on top of him. Now, if you know me well, you know that I hold a special hatred/fear of rats. I grabbed a piece of flat driftwood and used it as a shovel to scoop up its body. Then I placed it in the boat as far away from where I would be sitting as possible before taking up the oars and paddling out toward the middle of the lake. My plan was to dump the rat into the water where it wouldn't be likely to wash back up on the shore beneath the house. (I didn't care if it washed up near somebody else's house though. I just wanted it away from mine.)  As I paddled along I stared at it's yellowing teeth, bared in a death grimmace, and imagined what would happen if it suddenly came to life and began running around the cramped confines of the boat. What if it was only stunned? That thought freaked me out. (I probably would have abandoned ship and swam for shore if such had occurred. I'm slightly phobic when it comes to rats.) So I stopped well short of the middle of the lake and dumped the rat, board and all, into the drink.

And thus conludes my story of the time I accidentally crushed a rat and gave it a burial at sea.

(I also wish there was more point to this story, but really you can't complain. After all, the BFZ is free.)