I was struck tonight by one of my Quest For Fire – man against the elements urges (delusions) and bundled myself into nine or ten layers of clothing for a dork walk around the Reservoir. (For the uninitiated dork walking is an alternative form of exercise made necessary by have used up all of that annoying cartilage in my your left knee. So, instead, to get your aerobic (not to mention endorphic) rocks off and enjoy the greater outdoors, you strap all manner of weights to your hands and arms and then flail about energetically (or dorkily) while you stride purposefully around the park.

And there is a proper way to dork walk. You cannot, for instance, practice this time honored art of locomotion demurely, gracefully or elegantly – and you certainly cannot do it with any sort of dignity. When you dork walk you’ve got to own it, you’ve got to move, get your arms pumping up and down like a drum majorette with a bladder problem. You must move confidently (while never crossing the line into anything actually fascist) – sort of like the music video for “Safety Dance”, only without all the serfs. This results in an energetic workout, a way for parents to scare their children into behaving and something for tourists to write home about.)

Anyway – tonight’s DW took me around the Reservoir, freezing – yes, but also a crystal clear night sky that featured not one star, but actual constellations. Now whenever I perambulate around the park I always take along my trusty digital camera, ever ready for a candid shot of the wildlife – squirrels, ducks, turtles, Bon Jovi fans, and this night was no different. So imagine my excitement when, upon turning the southwest corner, I spotted a raccoon staring at me from the other side of the Reservoir fence. Just sitting there calmly, checking me out, no doubt marveling at my robust arm thrusts and steadfast stride.

Stopping, I quickly had camera in hand and crept up to where he was staring at me from the other side of the bars. I had just about framed the shot, from about two feet away, when an extraordinary thing occurred. Now to preface this I must point out that five or six years ago the really ugly chain link fence that had ringed the Reservoir for years had been replaced by the current replica of the original, a beautiful wrought iron fence. So, just about to take the picture I was stunned to see that the raccoon had walked through the bars – pretty much like any idiot (well, almost any idiot) would have seen he was imminently capable of doing. At that moment, crouched on the snowy running track, scant inches from the raccoon, it wasn’t my life that flashed before my eyes, it was every bit of paranoid advice I’d ever gotten from my mom – and right between public toilet seats and swimming after lunch was – you got it – raccoons have rabies!

At that moment, with the raccoon just about upon me, mano a coon-o if you will, the only option left between fight or flight was definitely the latter and, quite without me actually telling them, my feet had already started moving. Quickly. Now this might have worked, except that under the powder of snow on the track was a solid layer of black ice. All that was missing from my ridiculous impersonation of a Scoobie exit was the bongo sound effects. Feet churned in a circular motion without the slightest bit of traction, followed by a loud “whump” as I belly flopped across the track. A few moments later, after the initial shock of all oxygen leaving my body at the same moment (in case you’ve forgotten it really, really sucks) I looked up to see the raccoon, now virtually nose to nose with me. My general disdain for anthropomorphism aside, I swear he looked wryly, almost smugly, amused. This was, of course, immediately followed by bored as he waddled past me to the other side of the path and disappeared.

I did however, get the shot. I swear he’s laughing.