A nutria is a small beaver-like creature, that chews on wood and debris, lives near water and generally seems to be somewhat nocturnal. If one crossed a beaver and a possum it would be a nutria. I have jokingly referred to them as R.O.U.S.'es, on more then one occasion, minus the viscous, aggressive nature and sharp teeth. They are not well known, and in my experience few people outside of the Eugene area even know they exist. Many feel they are an unwanted landscape pest, whereas I always thought they were rare, possibly even endangered.
I need to give you the picture of these somewhat harmless creatures so you understand the level of dismay and revulsion I felt when my only daughter announced one morning that she and her friends intended to hunt one. Oh my. Hunting, in the city, of weird, wild, rodents of unusual size, to feed to some traumatized cats that they had been stuck with, after the sudden death of her roommates father.
“We get to attack it with medieval weaponry”, she texted me calmly.”Its not senseless”, she insisted, at my objections to her actually killing something.“We intend to use all the parts of the animal, including the hide.” “Don't do this. Do YOU have food to eat?” I texted back, weary and unsure how far this crazed plan of participating in the circle of life was actually taking them. Somehow I don't think the average mother has to face these kinds of comments from their 20 year old college student.
Obviously the lack of reason involved in the panning of this endeavor, was something that should have been vetoed by someone in their group of friends, long before it came to the attention of one of the parents, that's just not how things are done. On the other hand, I feel honored that the kids have always sort of let me be one of them and felt comfortable telling me things they didn't share with the usual “grown ups” in their lives.
In the end I transferred money to her bank account and kept, the need from occurring that was prompting such an outrageous plan in the dead of winter just before a snow storm. How utterly weird and venturing into the realm of the shinning. The end of this story is anti climatic, but just the conversation was a brilliant exercise in something irreverent and outside the normal realm of confessions that most parents probably hear.