Back in '90 I was instructing at the Comms School in Kingston. I was living in the single quarters. Can't remember the shack number, it was right next to JR's mess. Anyway...
Situation: it's oh-dark thirty, hot & muggy, so I'm sleeping with the door to my locker open with my uniform hung on the back, and the door to my room open (for ventilation).
The commissionnaire is on his rounds, locking up the JR's, when he sees a porcupine wobble into the shack next door. He follows it in. Porcupine takes off down the hallway and into the first dark open doorway it can find (guess who's). So he calls it in.
In my sleep I hear a voice calling..."John...John...there's a porcupine in your closet, John..."
I wake up, the light in my room is on, and there are two rather amused MPs in my room (which is bad enough without the porcupine). Needless to say I was wondering if I was on drugs.
But when I came to, sure enough there was a rather young porcupine in my locker, hiding in among my (recently-polished) boots. The MPs tried to get it out with a shovel -- I kid you not, they figured they could scoop it up and it would sit still until they could carry it outside. Needless to say, it didn't work. The porcupine slapped it's tail and sent a few quills around, So they called Base Animal Control.
BAC was an Air Force Corporal who, on his posting to Kingston was told, "You're the new Base Animal Control Officer. Here's your cage, here's your gloves, here's your guidebook." So he tried to get the beast out with a noose. He snagged it, but couldn't get the animal into the cage; every time he loosened the noose, the animal tried to jump out. So he held the porcupine in the cage, while the MPs carried the cage out. In the meanwhile it leaked in its panic, and shed quills everywhere. They let it go on the lawn, and it waddled away into the dark.
There were quills everywhere: in my boots, in the wall, in the floor...I discovered three more when I put my trousers on next morning.
Few days later, there's a staff parade (no students). I hadn't done a great job on my boots, but I was hoping to squeak through. But inspecting officer looks at me and says, "You're boots could be a bit better," and I said, with a straight face, "Sorry, sir, they haven't been the same since the porcupine whizzed on them."
He stopped dead, blinked at me, and I knew he wanted to say something..but he just went on. The Sergeant-Major, however, mouthed at me, "We'll talk later..."
This is all true. I have a photo back in Nfld and the MP shack in Kingston has a report on file.
Prickly J.
Situation: it's oh-dark thirty, hot & muggy, so I'm sleeping with the door to my locker open with my uniform hung on the back, and the door to my room open (for ventilation).
The commissionnaire is on his rounds, locking up the JR's, when he sees a porcupine wobble into the shack next door. He follows it in. Porcupine takes off down the hallway and into the first dark open doorway it can find (guess who's). So he calls it in.
In my sleep I hear a voice calling..."John...John...there's a porcupine in your closet, John..."
I wake up, the light in my room is on, and there are two rather amused MPs in my room (which is bad enough without the porcupine). Needless to say I was wondering if I was on drugs.
But when I came to, sure enough there was a rather young porcupine in my locker, hiding in among my (recently-polished) boots. The MPs tried to get it out with a shovel -- I kid you not, they figured they could scoop it up and it would sit still until they could carry it outside. Needless to say, it didn't work. The porcupine slapped it's tail and sent a few quills around, So they called Base Animal Control.
BAC was an Air Force Corporal who, on his posting to Kingston was told, "You're the new Base Animal Control Officer. Here's your cage, here's your gloves, here's your guidebook." So he tried to get the beast out with a noose. He snagged it, but couldn't get the animal into the cage; every time he loosened the noose, the animal tried to jump out. So he held the porcupine in the cage, while the MPs carried the cage out. In the meanwhile it leaked in its panic, and shed quills everywhere. They let it go on the lawn, and it waddled away into the dark.
There were quills everywhere: in my boots, in the wall, in the floor...I discovered three more when I put my trousers on next morning.
Few days later, there's a staff parade (no students). I hadn't done a great job on my boots, but I was hoping to squeak through. But inspecting officer looks at me and says, "You're boots could be a bit better," and I said, with a straight face, "Sorry, sir, they haven't been the same since the porcupine whizzed on them."
He stopped dead, blinked at me, and I knew he wanted to say something..but he just went on. The Sergeant-Major, however, mouthed at me, "We'll talk later..."
This is all true. I have a photo back in Nfld and the MP shack in Kingston has a report on file.
Prickly J.
....
