It’s Always Something

No-trespass Zone

Was at Lake Luxembourg in Langhorne, PA, today, talking to a friend Dawn about ticks. “I always get them on me when I come here,” she said.

“Not me, I’m usually pretty lucky,” I said.

We discussed the problem about kayakers entering the area of the lake which was closed off to the public for the purpose of protecting the resident bald eagles. Prior to the Bucks County Park Commission’s restricting the northeast section on the other side of Woodbourne Road Bridge in 2006, people were throwing rocks at the birds for them to fly out of their nest.

A sign on the southwestern side of the bridge once warned canoers and kayakers to keep out of the no-trespass zone surrounding the bald eagles’ nest, but has since been sun-bleached, erasing all the lettering.

Woodbourne Rd. Bridge with a Sun-bleached Sign
Sun-bleached Sign

Now, people are crossing over, not knowing the other side of the bridge is posted, stressing out the eagles as a result, and chasing away the rest of the wildlife that were once protected against encroachment. A simple replacement of the sign would prevent that from happening.

I had mentioned this to one of the park rangers, who said the powers that be won’t do anything about it, because it costs money. I had thought he was being sarcastic, but after my sending the Bucks County Parks Commission an e-mail, describing the problem, they ignored my correspondence, evidently, as the sign hasn’t been replaced after a month transpired, reaffirming what the ranger had said.

My next attempt to remedy the situation had me reaching out to the Pennsylvania Game Commission, asking them to try and persuade the park commission for replacing the sign. I received a response, thanking me for my concern and letting them know.

It’s only been a few days since I informed the game commission, but, as of today, the sign remained the same; and boaters were rowing all over on the other side of the bridge.

Kayakers and Canoers in the No-trespass Zone on June 15, 2019.

“I doubt anything will be done,” I said. “I’d be willing to buy them a new sign. How much could that cost, a hundred bucks?”

“Maybe a petition signed by a group of people would make a difference,” Dawn said.

“That would take a lot of people to make it happen, more than I know who give a damn about birds.”

We’ll see how it goes. Maybe if I keep on pestering them about it, they’ll replace it. After all, it’s the squeaky wheel that gets the grease.

We talked further about the lake’s bald eagles and picked out several other birds that were flying around. I don’t think the bald eaglets have fledged yet, having seen one today in the nest still. After Dawn left, I headed to my usual spot, hoping to catch shots of the nesting pair.

Louie brought back a fish toward the end of my visit.

Bald eaglet on left; Louie on the right.

Lucy returned and perched herself in the tree, took a bath inside an old tire, and flew off toward Neshaminy Creek afterward.

Lake Luxembourg Lucy

I lucked out with the Louie sneaking up on me and passing overhead:

Lake Luxembourg Louie

While I was hanging out, my beard felt itchy. Scratching it under my chin, I discovered an infernal tick was about to find a home. Thank goodness it hadn’t bored into the skin.

That did it! I packed up my gear and headed out of there, thinking how I jinxed myself by saying ticks left me alone at Lake Luxembourg, and finding another blood sucker had found its way onto the back of my neck after feeling it crawling around.

At home, off came all the clothes and into the shower I went, where another nasty nit had somehow made it to my nether region. I’ll leave it up to your imagination as to where that actually was, but at least it hadn’t attached yet.

Authorities have been warning the public about how ticks are supposed to be a nuisance this year, persuading me to buy some repellent that contains Deet (diethyltoluamide), which is most effective against ticks; but I just hate the smell of the spray, and the hassle of showering to get it off when I come home. I’ll be sure to use it next time out in the woods. I ended up showering today anyway, to make sure no more arachnids were waiting to stick it to me!

While typing this essay, I’m forever checking to make sure no ticks are still hidden in my hair or elsewhere on my body. Every little tactile sensation has me off on a paranoiac tizzy. I hate those buggers!

So much for another birding tale and tick tirade. Thanks for stopping by and for your continued support.

About Mike Slickster

As an early retiree with an honorary doctorate degree from the proverbial "School of Hard Knocks," this upcoming author with a lot of free time on his hands utilizes his expansive repertoire for humorous yet tragic, wildly creative writing that contains years of imaginative fantasy, pure nonsense, classic slapstick, extreme happiness and searing heartbreak; gathered by a wealth of personal experiences throughout his thrilling—sometimes mundane or unusually horrid—free-spirited, rock-'n'-roller-coaster ride around our beloved Planet Earth. Mike Slickster's illustrious quest continues, living now in Act Three of his present incarnation, quite a bit on the cutting edge of profundity and philosophical merriment as seen through his colorful characters, most notably evident in the amusing Thirty Days Across the Big Pond series, all of which can be found at
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