While Scooter and the rest of the team were correlating the data from today's experiments regarding the DST change and deer activity, I started puttering around the house, getting ready for season.
Woodsie and the rest of y'all know about the sewage situation here; we have nothing more than a poop pipe that runs out into a pasture. The last 100 feet is 4 inch corrugated and once every few months I go down to the end and move it 20 yards this way or that on the hillside. I went to move the end of the pipe today and . . .
. . . there was no pile at the end. Usually it accumulates a good foot high or so. There's usually about a bushel basket of compost at the end, but this was dry. It also meant there had been nothing coming down the pipe at least since I moved it last at the end of turkey season.
I had Angus flush up at the house. Nothing. I moved up the hill and had him flush again. Nothing. I pulled the 4 inch corrugated off the end of the clay tile and repeated. Nothing.
I rushed in the house, opened up the trapdoor in the bathroom and looked, fearing the worst. Nothing. The ground under the house was fairly dry.
About a year ago last summer, I remember hearing a loud rushing noise coming from the back yard. Angus and I found a small hole in the grass that sounded like that was the loudest. Sure enough, the clay pipe had separated and there was a little hole clear to the sod line. I put a rock over the hole and decided that if it were a problem, we'd see the effects soon enough. Now, a year later, I can't find the rock or the hole.
I have this vision of walking to the Thoughtful Spot some night in the moonlight, mid-Season. I will be stiff and sore from a hard day of hunting. I will be tired. I will be wandering back to the fire with my little beaker of Scotch and all of a sudden I'll wonder why the sky is receding from me so quickly. I will come to in a cavernous sinkhole that has formed just behind the Utility Shed. Two years of sewage will be at the bottom. I will cry for help, but no one will hear me.