BRAD WOODGER

508-627-8894

(margaret02539@yahoo.com)

Margaret Knight is away for the week. She did not tell me where she was going, but I wouldn’t be surprised to see her show up as a guest on Oprah. This is my second try at the Chappy column. My first attempt was written under the pseudonym of Brad Fligor. Most often pseudonyms are the choice of the author, but in my case the Gazette assigned me one, unbeknownst to me. Don’t get me wrong, I like Brad Fligor (some of my best friends are Brad Fligors), but my words are like unruly children — best kept with their parent.

Some of the oak leaves on Chappy seem to be prematurely browning. Several of our oaks started losing their healthy green luster in August. I noticed online that there was a warning afoot about an Asian beetle that bores straight through oaks. I couldn’t imagine that an oak would take kindly to such treatment. Could this be our problem? A quick survey of our local oaks (local oakals?) revealed no entry or exit wounds. Maybe they’re just tired. Unfortunately, I’m certain that several of our pitch pines are more than just weary, and have fallen prey to the pine borer beetle. On the bright side, their pumpkin colored needles match nicely with the ochre shade of our fescues. Speaking of grasses, Kim and I are in a solid long-term loving relationship with our bluestem. Gone are the black days of summer, our lovely bluestem now flows like an ocean of silver and magenta suede in the Chappy winds (which, by the way , seem to have moved in comfortably for the long haul).

As always, much news to report on Chappy — we should have a CNN channel dedicated to our little island. My friend Kevin traded in his old Stanley hammer (yellow handle?) for a new Craftsman hammer (red handle?). All reports say that the transition was a smooth one, and that Kevin got a fairly good deal on the trade-in (I think he knows someone in the business). So, if you see Kevin, be sure to compliment him on his new tool.

Apparently the Chappy skunks and crows have spoken to their relatives, extolling the virtues of their home, as both populations seem to have grown considerably in our neck of the woods. Of course, October on Chappy is witness to the annual grubfest, so perhaps the extra population could be attributable to this event. I’ve always known that both crows and skunks are inveterate grubbers; neither species feeling the least bit guilty about scratching and beaking away chunks of tenderly grown sod. What I didn’t know is that they often work in concert. It is a bit of a one-sided working relationship though. The skunks do most of the heavy lifting, while the crows reap the benefits of pre-ripped sod. I’m sure that the crows return the favor in kind somewhere down the line.

Speaking of crows, I believe that many of the birds I’ve been calling crows are in fact ravens. Ravens are a little larger than crows, but otherwise almost indistinguishable from crows. They are most easily told apart by their calls. Crows speak the familiar caw language, while ravens emit more grunts and unattractive cackles. Personally, I think that I’d rather have crows in my trees and on my lawns than ravens. Maybe it’s just the Edgar Allen Poe influence, but the thought of ravens peering in at me while I sleep, spooks me a bit. And somehow, the chattering of crows seems less ominous than raven verbiage. Either way, I know that they are talking about me.

The Chappy Ferry is going on its winter schedule as of the 18th of this month. Another reminder of the darkness to befall.

I noticed several seed scallops washed ashore on our beach last week. I thought that I was doing a good thing by tossing them back in the water until I turned to see two very exasperated seagulls perched on the piling behind me. Maybe it is best just to let nature have its way. I’ll bet, though, that there are some pretty happy scallop parents out there that think I’m alright.

There must be someone visiting someone from somewhere, but no one tells me anything so forgive me if Uncle Randy from Gary, Indiana’s visit goes un-remarked upon. I do know that I can walk the Chappy Road in daylight hours without much fear of being run over. There are a few fishermen about, and the occasional Chappy builder heading to town for a sash lock and a cup of coffee, but the Island is there for the taking. I look forward to the still winter days when the sound of my breath is the loudest noise.

I thought I saw a seal on our beach yesterday. It was a rock. Later, I thought I saw a beaver on our golf course. It was a bunny. Either I’m suffering from fantastical visions or I need glasses. I did, however, see several deer on a walk last week. Actually Kim and I heard them before we saw them. Deer snorts can be disconcerting when one (or two) is (are) deep in thought. There are a pack of them in the woods along the Cross-Chappy trail. They looked like they were up to no good (a couple appeared to be smoking cigarettes), so Kim remained alert for the remainder of our walk. I tried to assure her that deer tramplings were few and far between (except in Chilmark), and that we would most likely emerge unscathed. Taking no chances though was Kim, who had alerted all her muscles (including her optical ones) to be at the ready should a burst of brown appear in her path.

There will be a meeting at the Chilmark Community Center Oct. 20 at 7 p.m. regarding a proposed wind farm off of Cuttyhunk and Noman’s. Lively discussion and refreshments are promised.

Until we meet again.