When we moved from New Rochelle to Mamaroneck I was sad to leave the gamboling herds of wild shopping carts that had captivated the attention of my inner naturalist. No more would I stalk and catalog these free and magnificent beasts. Mamaroneck was a tame place...or so I had heard.
Not so. Perhaps the carts of New Rochelle have now been driven northward by relentless gentrification, their habitat threatened, growing smaller...ever smaller. And they have become more fierce and feral in their movements. Two days ago, I came upon a cruel sight at the corner of Dubois and Tompkins.
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| Once magnificent, this downed cart (whom I dubbed "Big Red") was brought down in its prime. Its red pelt still gleamed in the sunlight. "Rage, rage, against the dying of the light!" I whispered. But it was too late. Who or what could have wrought such a tragedy? |
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| Then down the block I spied it. It saw me, too. No doubt this was the savage killer of "Big Red." It gazed at me with such ferocity, such savagery, that my blood turned cold. Perhaps the two carts had been battling over a female, and "Big Red" had fallen to the other one's dominance? |
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| The killer drew closer. It was a stand-off. Its wheels turned with an ominous "creak, creak, creak." I confess that at this moment my heart failed me and I fled down Tompkins, where I immersed myself in the icy waters of the Mamaroneck River (only my eyes visible) while the cart sought me out. I could hear it rolling back and forth for several minutes. Finally, I was able to clamber up the bank and bushwhack my way overland to the safety of home. |
