EPISODE 10
the Panache
Field Notes from lake of the Ozarks National Park
6:42am:
Dawn smolders peach-orange behind the ridge, but the EcoCool plant beats the sun to the punch. Industrial floodlights flare like stadium bulbs as I beach my “borrowed” canoe. From up here the concrete block of a building wheezes violet steam into the crisp Ozark air, promising biodegradable bricks so energy-efficient they “self-cool.”
“If music be the food of love, play on,” Shakespeare wrote. But this morning the music is the drone of compressors, and the food is whatever toxic trail mix sloshes out the overflow pipe.
I uncap a sample vial; the ooze inside fizzes like grape soda and motor oil. Perfect! I label it “Breakfast Smoothie.” Penny the drone takes a slow orbit for establishing shots.
First Specimen: A truly screwy squirrel
07:15am:
Bug-Eyed Squirrel (sciurus leporimimus)
I trek the shoreline where factory mist meets cypress shade. A gray squirrel pops up, reptilian eyes bulging like it read the year‑end bonus report. It clasps an acorn, scampers to a puddle, and ritual‑drowns the nut with solemn little squeaks, almost chanting.
Observations
Corneal diameter nearly 1 cm (triple normal) – reflectivity suggests night‑vision adaptation to blackout smoke.
Fur patchy; tail displays frantic semaphores—perhaps Morse for “send snacks.”
Squeak pattern mirrors the guitar lick in “Smoke on the Water.”
Interaction
I offer a gummy worm. It yanks the candy, baptizes it, and returns a token gift: a scrap of EcoCool brick flake. Barter economy achieved!
“Well the world ain’t round, it’s crooked,” croons John Prine in my head, and our crooked little friend scampers away, tail spelling maybe SOS.
Second Specimen: Getting Catfished
9:02am:
Crickjaw Catfish (ictalurus mandibulum)
The mud flat on the east cove gurgles like a kid with bubble gum. Suddenly, a catfish drags itself ashore, fins doubling as stumpy legs. Jaw unhinged sideways, puppet-style, it utters rhythmic GRNK-GRNK-GRNK.
Observations
Lateral jaw hinge allows 120° rotation; could let it grind through shoreline sediment for grubs or recite bad ventriloquist jokes.
Skin coated in shimmering film that refracts rainbow streaks (probable hydrocarbon sheen).
Occasional dry-land “gulp” corresponds to deep resonant grunts matching a D-minor chord.
Interaction
I kneel with hydrophone mic. Catfish bites the windscreen, shakes like a tambourine; recording peaks nicely. I read it a bit of Coleridge: “Water, water everywhere…” And the fish responds by spitting sludge on my notebook. Everyone’s a critic.
Third Specimen: Who Let the Frogs Out?
11:47am:
Red-Eye Squirtfrog (lithobates baconii)
Mosquitoes hum. Then a high, lonely violin note slices the air, coming from the reeds. A bullfrog leaps onto a rotting log: eyes crimson, pupils pin-thin, skin throbs like a disco floor.
Observations
Glands behind hind legs distend when startled, ejecting violet aerosol that reeks of frying bacon drizzled in nail‑polish remover, or some sort of breakfast fart. The sound reinforces this.
Call alternates between high screech (B‑flat) and sub‑bass wub. Some sort of amphibiogenic dubstep?
Purple spray stains wood, later crystallizes into salty flakes that taste faintly of… bacon bits? (Purely scientific lick test.)
Interaction
I approach with a handheld mirror. Frog sees reflection, croaks “REE‑EEE!” and unleashes a mist that arcs like an angry perfume ad. My lens is now violet polka‑dotted.
“We are stardust, we are golden,” sings Joni Mitchell somewhere in the wind, though here we’re somewhere closer to tar‑dust and lavender.
Featured Creature: Are You Laughing at me?
6:04pm:
FEATURED CREATURE:
The Giggling Snapper (chelydrus hilarifex)
Sun spears low across the lake; water looks like molten brass. A hush. Then a thin, childish giggle rises. Goosebumps! I glide my canoe into the shadow of a cypress stump.
First Contact
A head the size of a beach ball surfaces, beak curved wicked‑sharp, lips (are those lips?!) curled in a human grin. Neck stretches like a soggy accordion, two meters easy. The giggle hits a higher register, like a tape deck stuck on Chipmunks 45 rpm.
Observations
Shell diameter ~1.4 m, mottled with lichen and chunks of stuck EcoCool brick.
Giggle triggered by sonar? I clap. Snapper giggles back in perfect tempo (we jam four bars of “Crazy Train”).
Plastron sports scarred glyphs resembling factory serial numbers; perhaps hatched in tailings pond.
Wild Interaction
I secure a GoPro on a telescopic pole, narrating: “Ladies and gents, behold the Ozarks’ deadliest comedian!” SNAP! Pole gone. Canoe rocks. Snapper ducks, surfaces under the hull, lifts me like a carnival ride.
The turtle rockets forward. I’m surfing canoe‑backwards, whooping and hollering. Penny films overhead as sunset flames the water. At 40 mph we slam a log. The canoe flips, I cartwheel into neon wake.
Underwater…
Silence but for my bubbles… and the turtle’s giggle warbling through the liquid gold. It studies me eye‑to‑eye, almost apologetic, then snaps a floating Gatorade bottle clean in half with its jaws, as though to remind me who’s top billing. It glides off, giggling into dusk.
I surface, gasping a line from T.S. Eliot: “I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. They giggled, and they tried to eat my feet.” Or something like that.
Signing off…
I squelch ashore coated head-to-toe in violet froth, brick dust, and existential dread. Factory exhaust twinkles orange like city lights. Beautiful, if you forget the smell.
We met critters today that squeak Deep Purple riffs, catfish that grunt jazz, frogs that perfume the air with the aroma of breakfast farts, and a turtle that laughs like a gremlin on helium while chomping corporate trash.
EcoCool calls itself progress. I call today’s footage ‘the invoice.’ Question is: who signs the bill? How do we, as neighbors of these shining green-washed giants, follow up once the fanfare dies and the runoff keeps running?
Answers on a postcard. Or better yet, a court summons. Until next splash, this is Warrin Bicknell reminding you to like and subscribe, and asking: What’s mutating in your backyard?
Good night, good luck, and watch your toes!
Whimsy forever,
Warrin Bicknell
This website is a work of fiction and satire, created for storytelling purposes within the Rob Boss universe. Any resemblance to actual events, persons, or organizations is purely coincidental. No real-world actions, individuals, or companies are depicted.