Along the Way

The Troublesome AFTERLIFE of ELWOOD the Magnificent ELK along the way

EARLY ONE MORNING, I WENT TO THE kitchen, made coffee and opened the drapes. I gasped and held my chest. A gigantic stuffed elk head sat on the patio table.I leaned on the counter to steady myself and saw the note from my son, Larry. It read: "Mom, don't have a heart attack [now he tells me] when you look outside. My friend Cal needs a place to store his elk trophy for a couple of days. It is one of the 10 largest shot in the world."

For Larry to bring critters home "for a couple of days" was no surprise. In the past, he had rescued countless pregnant cats, a ferret and a few mangy dogs, the most recent guest being an extremely vocal parrot given to him by another "friend."

Weeks went by and Elwood the Elk remained, his 6-foot rack taking up most of the space on the small patio. We feared his antlers might injure someone, so Larry rigged pulleys from the ceiling that raised our guest up higher and back against the wall. Mounted properly now, Elwood reigned supreme over our townhouse patio.

One rainy day, I decided Elwood needed protection from the elements and from the parrot, who considered him a private perch. I covered him with a king-size sheet tied under his chin. Every time I walked by, his big brown "why me?" eyes pleaded for him to be set free for one more romp in the forest. I hugged him and said, "I'm sorry this happened to you."

There he hung-not for a couple of days but for eight long months. On Halloween he wore a black mask and became the Lone Ranger. On Thanksgiving he wore a Pilgrim hat. At Christmas we decorated him with boughs of holly, put a red puffball on his nose and called him Rudolph. We even considered having our picture taken with him to send as Christmas cards.

Elwood became my therapist. I confided things I had never mentioned to a soul. I told him of deep-seated wounds that had stunted my psychological growth for years. He was completely non-judgmental. I hoped he was not taping our conversations.

My husband didn't share my fondness for Elwood. I came to my senses, too, when I realized Elwood had completely taken over the patio. Noone sat there to eat lunch or read anymore. I no longer exercised in the spa (I feared Elwood might snicker).

Our patio looked like a zoo. Elwood had nothing to say, but the parrot, in a sultry voice, kept saying, "Hey, baby how about a kiss?"

I marked Elwood's eviction date on the calendar. Friend Cal had until the weekend to find greener pastures for him. (The parrot moved up on the eviction list.) The weekend came and no arrangements had been made to remove the elk, so my husband decided he would do it himself. He folded blankets and placed them carefully on the trunk of his car.

I don't know how Elwood got on the patio in the first place, but it took three strong men and me to lift him back over the high wall. We placed him on the trunk of the Buick facing heaven (the elk, not the Buick), and secured him with bungee cords and ropes going through the back windows, around the antlers and onto the bumper.

My husband drove. Cal watched the elk. Larry followed at a safe distance in his car, watching all of them. Everything went as planned, I'm told, until the car swerved to miss an object on the road. The elk bolted, and nearly ended his life (again) in a nearby citrus grove. They pulled off the road to retrieve and stabilize their cargo and noticed a helicopter hovering above.

Back on the road, my husband saw the flashing lights of a patrol car pulling up behind them. The patrolman walked over and looked at Elwood. "Is there a problem, officer?" Larry asked. The patrolman ignored him, looked up at the helicopter and spoke into his radio: "You're not losing your mind, pal, there IS an elk on the trunk of this car."

The patrolman looked at the elk and said, "That is a big one! Wow! What a beauty!" They discussed Elwood's vital statistics and swapped hunting stories. The patrolman wished them well and left.

There were a few double takes from motorists. One shouted, "Hey, if that's a hood ornament, it's on the wrong end of the car!"

Eventually, Elwood reached his final resting place in the dark confines of a musty storage area - his days of glory and conquests gone forever.

If only he could hang above a fireplace in a hunting lodge, to live (well, you know what I mean) out the rest of his life, I would be eternally grateful. Yet, as it is, I am eternally grateful he is no longer on my patio. And the parrot, still begging for affection, flies with friends in a giant cage at a bird sanctuary. AH