Hi all,
As many of you know, back in February, the Hubs and I bought an interest in a piece of property to park the RV on. It was on a hillside overlooking a river, a parcel of land that had been continuously inhabited by nasty people for hundreds of years. It was last used 20 years ago as an illegal trailer park, possibly a puppy mill and/or a fighting-dog-breeding and training location.
The land had been repossessed by the bank, and then was used as an illegal dump. It was a heck-of-a mess.
But the potential was instantly visible, even beneath the mounds of garbage, tires, oil cans, bedsprings, and the detritus of humans. Even though the white oaks had gone down in straight line winds in 2020. Even though the road was rutted in channels two feet deep.
It was a freaking project. I did NOT need another project.
And yet we stood at the bottom of the hill, a river on one side and the rutted road leading up to the filth on the other. And we could see the difference a little helping hand could make. We could see the difference we could make if we jumped in and helped Mother Earth to reclaim this little patch of ground. I could see the desire of the ground to be fecund, its deforested areas replanted with trees, and the heaps of trash and tires carried off.
We took on the project. So far, working together, we have identified seven HUGE piles of trash and garbage, in deep layers, probably originally dumped in ditches and overgrown by wild plants. We started cleaning this fall.
Near sunset, on Saturday Nov. 6, Hubs pulled up a busted blue kiddie pool to reveal smooth red dirt. I passed by later and realized there was something beneath that level red dirt and I used my trowel to reveal another pool bottom, this one red. I dug it out and added it to a new, growing trash pile.
Beneath the pool was another layer of smooth dirt.
Beneath that was a bit of woven, braided cloth. I dug some more, to reveal a rug, neatly spread on … something. I pulled up the rug, and carried it to the pile destined for the landfill. Upon returning to the dig-site, I brushed away the dirt and saw tied grocery store bags. I assumed it was household garbage and grabbed two. Bones spilled out.
It was sunset and there was no access to electricity. In the middle of god-forsaken nowhere. We went home. On the way, Hubs quietly asked, “Are you sure it was dog bones?”
I said, “I’m 99.9% sure it was dog bones, specifically Pitbull femurs. Pitties have curved femurs. I am guessing we were right about the fighting dog location. But… I don’t know what else was buried there. And there were some much larger, black plastic bags.”
I asked the advice of a few friends and later that week I called the sheriff’s department of that county and explained what I had found. They were quite excited. Upon their instructions, on Thursday last week, we met a sheriff deputy at the property and Hubs drove us all up the rutted hill in the 4-wheeler.
The deputy poked around in the bone-site. I found a similar spot with more bags. Then a third site. The deputy called his sergeant. Sergeant came out and uncovered a much longer straight bone from the original bone site. I said, “It’s a deer humerus. It’s articulated to go this way (mimed a dear running, legs back and forth) not this way, (raised arm over my head). But because we now had possible multiple sites, the Sergeant called for his investigator.
Two investigators showed up. They dug around some more, all over the area. Then they decided to call the coroner.
It was now again sunset. They were making jokes about pulling an all-nighter and not having access to food. I explained that I had coffee and that pizza delivery was possible. But I also said, “I’m not footing a pizza bill.” They laughed. I reminded them that they would need generators as there was no electricity.
The coroner showed up. We now had 5 cop cars at the bottom of the hill, blue lights flashing enough to chase away the drug dealers.
The coroner determined that it was a “Mass murder of dogs and deer site.” The cops then told me how horrible people are to fighting dogs. In great detail.
To me, one of them said, “If you find a bone like this (and he pointed to his own head), give us a call back.”
And we all trooped (or drove) back down the hill.
The next morning I emptied all the bones out of the bags, and took pics of some of the hundreds of bones. I have decided not to add them here. Then I reburied the bones, and told them, “I’m sorry humans were so cruel to you. I’m sorry your lives were so hard and terrifying and short. I hope you have peace.”
Soon I will plant a lovely red maple on the site. And reclaim the land for peace.
Faith.