Josh and Ryan Go Hunting

By: Joshua Manning

Traveling through the South Louisiana swamp, you will find a small town named Montegut.  Most people in Montegut know each other, or at least see each other on a weekly basis.  It’s a quiet little town filled with mostly shrimpers and fishermen.  One of these fishermen had a daughter named Amanda.

Now, Amanda liked to pretend she was a cat.  She wore a collar with a bell on it, put long socks on her arms that could easily be mistaken for fur, even pulled at her ears sometimes in an attempt to make them more pointed.

Amanda, however, was always getting in trouble.  She liked to run through the swamp on all fours, pretending, again, that she was a cat.  She would scamper up trees, chase mice and rats (and even eat a few when no one was looking!), and was just always doing many cat-like things.  By her nineteenth birthday, however, her grandparents (who were now raising her because a piano had fallen on both her parents one day while they were walking through downtown Houma, which is a city a little ways “up the bayou” from Montegut) decided it was time for her to grow up and stop acting like a cat.  Amanda, however, was at that stage of life where she liked to rebel.  So, she decided to continue running through the swamp on all fours, meowing, licking herself, and climbing trees.  Pappy and Tee Tee (as she so affectionately referred to her grandparents) would get upset and lock Amanda in her room when they would catch her doing these things.  You see, her grandfather was the former Sheriff of Montegut, and her grandmother was in many social circles in the small Cajun community.  She played bingo every Thursday, pedro every Friday; on Mondays she met with the carnival crew for the Mardi Gras parade; and was at mass every Sunday.  Neither of them could have word get out that their nineteen-year-old granddaughter still ran around acting like a cat!

One night, it was a Wednesday night (Amanda recalled this because Tee Tee snuck away to the Baptist church on Wednesday nights, giving Amanda time to escape while Pappy was watching Larry King Live), Amanda was chasing mice and ended up going further into the swamp than she normally went.  She had found a bayou.  What she didn’t know is that it wasn’t the bayou she was used to swimming in, Bayou Terrebonne.  It was Bayou Pettit Caillou, which was a quiet a ways away.  So Amanda, always up for an adventure, yet not really thinking anything adventurous was going to happen, jumped in the bayou and began to doggy paddle (or should I say kitty paddle?) down stream (that is, it would have been down stream if the water in bayous flowed any, I guess it would be more accurate to say she paddled in a southern direction).

When she got a good ways down the bayou, she decided to climb out and have a look around.  She at once realized she had never been here before.  Most girls, especially nineteen year old girls, would, in this situation, cry.  Amanda, however, was filled with excitement.  She began scampering around, climbing trees, and looking for mice.  After a while, she saw a tree that took her by surprise.  Most of the trees she was used to climbing where cypress trees, the kind that naturally grew in the swamps.  However, now she was looking at a rather old oak tree.  She began to scurry up the tree when the most amazing thing happened.  She saw someone, a cute someone, scurrying down!

The hair on her head stood on end.  The socks on her arms got all puffy.  She let out a hiss.  The boy coming down drove his fingernails into the tree and paused.  He hissed back.

Amanda jumped for the ground, forgetting for a second that she wasn’t a real cat.  When she landed, it wasn’t on all fours, and there was a strange snapping noise coming from her leg.  It was broken.

The boy (who Amanda thought was very strange for hissing the way he did), began to crawl down the tree.  When he got to the ground, he walked on all fours (which Amanda thought very peculiar) towards Amanda.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Uh, hey, what are you about hissing like that!” she replied.

“Oh, sorry, sometimes I get carried away and think that I’m a cat.  I guess it is somewhat odd.  I do apologize.”

“Well don’t do that anymore.  Not only is it odd, but it scared the dickens out of me.”

“I do apologize, like I said!  Please, you must forgive me!  But, hey, what were you doing jumping out of the tree like that for anyway.  And didn’t you hiss first?”

“Well, I guess, I suppose, that I sometimes think I’m a cat.” she said.

“Now that is quite odd.”

“I suppose.”

“So, are you okay then?”

“I think my leg may have broken.  I heard it snap when I hit the ground.”

“My!   That won’t do at all!  We’ve got to get you all fixed up!”

The boy crawled over to her, and she climbed on his back.  He began walking through the swamp on all fours. 

“What is your name?” asked Amanda.

“Oh, me, my name is T-Bob.  How about you?”

“I’m Amanda.”

“Nice to meet you Amanda!”

“Nice to meet you, T-Bob!  Now, where are we, and where are you taking me?”

“Oh, this place is Chauvin.  And I’m taking you to my house!  My father is a doctor and . . . “

“D . . . did you say . . . Chauvin?”

“Yep!  Greatest place on Earth as far as I’m concerned!”

“You have to take me back.”

“But why?  I can’t do that!  Your leg is broken.  It’s got to be mended to!”

“Oh, please don’t make me explain.  I really must get back to the bayou!”

T-Bob paused and looked suspiciously at Amanda, “Why is that?  What have you got against Chauvin?  What are you trying to hide?”

“Oh nothing, I think this is a wonderful place!  It’s just that, I don’t think I would be welcome here . . . “

“And why?”

“Well, I . . . I’m from Montegut.”

“Montegut!  Dang Yankees!  Such a pity, someone as interesting and cute as yourself.  A dang Yank.”

“Yankee?  What the heck!  You are the Yankee!  Chauvin Cajun wanna-be!”

“Geez, I really do hate that I have to do this, yet, you being from Montegut and all . . . and YOU are the Yankee, by-the-way, but that is of no importance,” he said as he began to pull a knife from his pants pocket.

“What is that?”

“Oh, you know what I’ve got to do now.  Montegut and Chauvin have been feuding for years.  I have to kill you now, darn it.”

At that moment, they heard something making a loud noise from behind the oak tree.  It was a kind of screaming, yelling noise.  A high-pitched screeching.

“What was that?” Amanda asked.

“Sounded like a cross between a nutria, a gator, and a bear,” T-Bob replied.

Then, they saw something that made them scream.

Josh was sitting in a large house in Thibodaux on a Thursday afternoon.  He normally didn’t get to sit around in houses this big, but this week, he had the opportunity to do so.  In fact, not only did he have the opportunity, but he was getting paid to do so.  His high school principal had called him earlier that week and asked Josh to dog-sit while he was out of the country on vacation.  Josh, not one to ever turn down anything requested of him by high school principals, gladly agreed.  For the past three or four hours, he watched the history channel.  Between that and Fox News, Josh had no other needs.

But now, it was about three in the afternoon, and it was time to bring the dog in and give him his pill.  The dog suffered from an acute form of canine epilepsy.  Josh didn’t understand why Mr. Carl (his principal) spent money on all those pills.  He figured a bullet and new dog would just be cheaper, but he didn’t complain because it gave him something to do for a week.

He walked out in the back yard towards the dog’s pin.  The backyard was filled with things you wouldn’t normally think a high school principal could afford.  There was a Mercedes, motorcycle, and a dirt bike under the car port, a huge swimming pool between the main house and the guest house, and more plants and flowers than humanly imaginable.  Josh opened the gate and Blitz the Weimaraner walked out.  He was a big gray dog with short fur and a red collar.  Smart, too, as most Weimaraners are.

Josh lead the dog back inside the house, the only place the dog would willingly take its pill.  After Blitz had his pill (which, he insisted, had to be wrapped in cheese), Josh walked over to the recliner and picked up the Chronicles of Narnia.  He was reading the sixth book in the series, The Silver Chair, when he felt something cold and wet again the bottom of his bare foot.  It was Blitz.

“Blitz, I just brought you in from outside!  I am NOT going to take you again right now.  Chill out and watch some TV.”

Blitz walked around from where Josh’s feet where laying on the ottoman and put his head on Josh’s lap.

“Man, I’m trying to read.  I know you don’t have to use the bathroom, you been out there all day!”

Blitz blinked.

“No, and you know what?  I’m going to go check the mail!  But, you are going to stay inside!  You are getting to be spoiled.”

As odd as it may seem, Josh could have sworn that Blitz smiled.

Josh shook his head and stood up.  He walked to the door, the Weimaraner following closely behind.  Josh again looked at the dog and said, “No man!  Chill out!”

Josh then looked out of the glass window in the door and saw several squirrels in the front yard.  He looked at the dog, whose tail was wagging.

“Okay,” he said, “but don’t get used to me being nice.  I just figure you need to have some fun.”

The entire back half and Blitz’s body was moving back and forth.

He opened the door and Blitz shot out barking.  As soon as he started though, he stopped and turned around.  He began barking and diving for the door.

“Oh,” Josh said, “there must have been a squirrel right there by the door that I didn’t see.”  He stepped outside and looked.  Josh, however, did not see a squirrel.  He saw something else that quite frankly scared the snot out of him.  He saw a snake.

“Oh cracker barrel!” he yelled.  “Get away from that Blitz!  Go get one of those squirrels or something.  This here is a water moccasin (for those of you who don’t know, a water moccasin is very poisonous)!”

The dog, however, continued to bark and bite at the snake.  The snake turned, saw the open door, and began heading for it.  Josh wet his pants as he flung the door closed.

“I hate snakes.  Why couldn’t it have been an alligator or something?  I can handle alligators.  But a snake?  Oh goodness, Blitz!”

Josh opened the door when he remembered he left Blitz outside alone with the snake.  When he opened the door, the dog was standing about ten feet away from the snake, focusing on it, but no longer going near it.  The snake sat coiled next to the door.  It was no longer moving, it was just watching.

“Okay, Blitz,” said Josh, “I’m going to run around back and find a shovel or something.  You stay there and don’t get too close to the snake, all right?”

He ran through the house out the back door.  Next to the pool was a shed.  He opened it and looked for a shovel.  He didn’t see one.  He kept looking around for anything sharp enough to cut the snake’s head off.  Still, he saw nothing.  He walked over to his truck and opened his toolbox.

“Well,” he said as he pulled out a crowbar, “what the hay?”

He ran back around to the front of the house.  Blitz was still sitting in the same place, the snake still coiled next to the door.  As Josh inched closer, he noticed that there were several puncture wounds in the snake, and that part of its tail was missing.

“Dang, Blitz!  You actually bit that thing?  You are crazy man!”

Blitz yawned.

Josh looked at the snake.  He was about five feet away from it now.  He bent over and picked up a rock, then tossed it at the snake.  It landed about an inch away from the snake, and the snake didn’t move.  Josh took another step and saw that the snake was still alive.  He could see it breathing and sticking its tongue out into the air.  Josh raised the crowbar over his head.  He stretched his arm back behind him, and then flung it forward while releasing the crowbar.  He watched as it spun through the air.  Suddenly, it stopped.  The pointy end was sticking in the ground, the curved blunt end standing above it.  On one side of the pointy end sat the snake’s body.  On the other, its head.

“Well, Blitz,” said Josh, “now to take care of you!”

Josh walked over to the dog and checked it over.  “Well, I don’t see any bite marks on you.  Did the thing bite you?  I can’t tell.”

The dog blinked.

Josh, being a man of faith and not of veterinary medicine, then did something that, to many, may seem foolish.  He placed his hands on the dogs head then looked up.

“Hey God,” he said.  “It’s me, Josh, down here in Thibodaux.  Hey, yeah, I don’t normally pray for stuff like this, but this isn’t my dog, it’s Mr. Carl’s.  Yeah, I’m not sure it got bit by that snake or not, but could you not let it die.  I mean, if it was my dog, I wouldn’t care.  I would understand and all, I mean it’s just a dog.  But this is Mr. Carl’s dog and he might not take it as well.  I may not get asked to come back again, and this is a pretty neat place.”

He looked down at the dog.  “You okay?” he asked.

The dog blinked.

“Okay, let’s go inside.”

The dog stood up and they walked in – through the back door of course.

Once inside, Josh walked over to the computer.  He got on the Internet and noticed his friend Matthew was on messenger.  Josh had met Matthew five years earlier when he was a junior in high school.  They met through a high school service organization called Key Club.  Josh was the president of the club at his local high school; Matthew was the president of the club at Childersburg High School in Childersburg, Alabama.  Josh had come to know and respect Matthew as one of the smartest individuals on the planet.  Not only was he impressed when Matthew scored a perfect 36 on the ACT, but he was also amazed at the success of the fundraisers Matt’s club pulled off.  Back in 2000, Josh and Matt conspired to move to Canada whenever it looked like Al Gore was about to win the Presidential election (Now, most of you are saying, “Canada?  Aren’t they even more communist than Al Gore?”  Well, for the most part, yes.  Matt and Josh, however, found an Island in the middle of Wilcox Lake that is very isolated and, with dues from Key Club members and funds raised during bake sales, were able to purchase the island from the Canadian government.  They built a compound there and stocked it full of soy bean products.  To this day, it still stands.).

Josh started typing on the keyboard.

“Hey Matt,” he wrote.  “I got a problem.”

“Howdy!” Matt replied.

“Yeah, I think this dog I’m watching got bit by a snake.”

“Is it poisonous?”

“Blitz?  No, he wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“No, the snake.  Is the snake poisonous?”

“Well, it was.  I chopped its head off with my crowbar :-D”

“What is the dog doing now?”

“Um …………… he’s just sort of sitting there looking at me.”

“Does he seem to have trouble walking or breathing?”

“No . . . . I mean, I don’t think so. . . . . “

“What kind of snake was it?”

“A water moccasin.”

“Hmmm.  I say wait about fifteen minutes or so.  If it doesn’t die, you know it’s okay.”

“Okay, thanks man.”

“No problem.”

Ryan was sitting in his office in Houma.  He was doing work for his website and software development company, Cajunworks, when he felt something.  He sat up strait and sniffed the air.  Something had just died.  And someone he knew had helped kill it.  He looked over at his head programmer Clint.  Clint was zoned out, busily typing away.  Ryan stood and walked towards the door.  Something was going on, and he refused to be left out.

Josh was sitting down to finish reading the Chronicles of Narnia when he heard a nock at the back door.

“What now?” he thought.

He stood up and began walking towards the door, Blitz following close behind him.

“Blitz, you will NOT go outside this time, okay?”

Blitz hung his tail.

Josh looked up towards the glass window again.  He instantly recognized the figure.

“Oh goodness.  Now what does he want?”  Josh said aloud.

He opened the door.  The silhouette of the tall, lanky man contrasted with the bright day outside.  He was wearing a white t-shirt and kaki shorts and was, of course, barefoot.  Resting under his shoulder was a crack barrel shotgun.  Beyond him, laying in the yard, were several dead squirrels.  Blitz hid behind Josh’s legs.

“Well, ready to shoot some furry animals?” asked Ryan.

Josh closed the door and began to walk back to the chair.  He heard the shotgun cock.

“Open the door.”

Josh walked back to the door and opened it again.

Ryan smiled and held up the dead snake.  “I see you got started without me!”

“Man, not today.  I got this dog and I’m reading these books and . . . “

Ryan continued to smile.  “Come on, you know you want to!”

“Man, I just . . .” he looked down and saw Ryan’s hand hovering near the trigger.

“Well, I guess maybe for a little while.”

“Okay, good.  I have your gun in my truck.”

“Which one, the .410 or the 20 gauge?”

“Both of them!”

“Of course.”  Josh turned around and looked at Blitz.  “Hey boy, I got to go for a little while.  I’ll be back in a few hours.” 

The dog looked at him.

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dream of leaving you alone though.”  Josh walked over to the hall closet and opened the door.  A strange, turtle looking figure stepped out.

“We don’t have any more cold cups,” it said.

“Blitz, this is Antione.  If anyone tries to break in, he’ll scare them away.”

Antione blinked.

“All right, Ryan, I think I’m ready.”

They walked over towards the truck.  Josh stopped halfway and ran back to where his crowbar stood in the yard.  He pulled it out the grass and ran back.

Ryan started laughing, “What do you plan on doing with that?  Hitting squirrels in the head?”

“Hey man, you never know!”

“Riiiiight.”

About thirty minutes later Ryan from Bayou Blue and Josh from Bayou Black pulled up into a driveway in Bourg (all small towns in and around the metropolis of Houma).

“Where are we?” asked Josh.

“I’ve got lots of family out in this area.  We are going to go back in that swamp back there and shoot some stuff.”

“Okay,” Josh said as he grabbed his 20 gauge shotgun.  “I think I’ll just take this one and leave the .410.  I don’t see me needing two guns.  Plus, I really don’t have room to carry it.”

“If you would leave that stupid crowbar here . . .”

“Man, I’m telling you, you just don’t know.”

Ryan grabbed Josh’s .410 and strapped it around his back.  Ryan was now carrying three guns. 

“Goodness, Ryan, don’t you think you are over doing it a bit?”

Ryan pulled out his German Lugar and began to load it.  He now had four guns.

“Never mind,” Josh said.  “So what are you hoping to shoot?”

“Well, I’d really like to get some nutria.  That is one thing I’ve never eaten but want to try.”

They began walking into the swamp.  Josh had changed into combat boots and camouflage.  Ryan was still wearing his t-shirt, shorts, and was barefoot.  The first thing they did was find a bayou.  There was a small, eight-foot long boat sitting on the bank.  Ryan began to push it into the bayou.

“Is that yours?” Josh asked.

“It probably belongs to one of my cousins.”

“Uh, okay.”

“Come on, get in.”

Now, Josh was always the more hesitant of the two.  Though they were good friends, Josh never quite knew what would happen next when he was hanging out with Ryan.  Ryan’s family had lived in South Louisiana for five hundred years.  Many had migrated with the Acadians when they were driven out of Canada.  He had done quite a bit of extensive studying on his family tree, and discovered that the first ancestor he had with his last name – Hutchinson – had actually been an explorer on a Spanish ship to the area in the early days of New World exploration.  All the others in the ship had been killed in an attack by sea pirates, yet Hutchinson survived and swam from the Gulf of Mexico to the shores of Louisiana.  Hundreds of years later, his grandfather had fought in the Pacific front during World War Two.  Everyone in his battalion was killed by Japanese soldiers while trying to defend an island and hold the line.  He was the only one who survived.  The battle and ended in hand to hand combat with the Japanese.  As they walked around, stabbing all the bodies of those who had been wounded, Hutchinson piled several dead bodies on top of him and successfully evaded the Japanese troops.  When the coast was clear, he made his way back to the beach and swam to the nearest battleship.  Josh always got a little nervous when he was hanging out with Ryan.

Josh’s family, on the other hand, could not be tracked back as far.  While Ryan was 100% Cajun, Josh was full of everything.  His mother was a cross between Pennsylvania Dutch and Arkansas redneck.  His father was half Texan and half Cajun.  This made Josh a little smart, a little ignorant, a little adventurous, and very little of what he wanted to be most – Cajun.  However, he figured, if he hung out with Ryan long enough, he would eventually be able to marry one of his cousins or something and at least help his kids out some.  Josh’s only claim to fame was that one of his ancestors road with Jesse James back in Texas.  Unfortunately, he was one of the guys who were shot in one of James’ early hold-ups.

So now, while most of everything within him was telling him not to get in the boat, he knew that he should probably do as Ryan said.  Though they sometimes got in trouble, things usually ended up okay in the end.

Things were uneventful for a while.  Ryan shot at a few blackbirds while Josh paddled the boat.  At one point they saw an alligator.  Ryan was tempted to shoot it, but Josh pointed out that it wasn’t all that big and they probably shouldn’t waste a bullet on it.

“What bayou is this, Ryan?” asked Josh.

“Oh, it’s Bayou Terrebonne,” he said.  “At least for a while.”

“What do you mean?”

“You see up there?”

“Yeah.”

“The bayou forks into two, on the left is Bayou Terrebonne, to the right is Bayou Pettit Caillou.  One heads to Montegut and the other to Chauvin.”

“Which way you want to go?”

“Uh, it doesn’t really matter I guess.  Let’s go ahead and go right.”

“Onward to Chauvin.”

After they went a ways, again Josh paddling and Ryan firing at black birds and other random fury animals, Ryan decided it was time to get out and go on foot.

“We aren’t having much luck finding nutria here in the boat,” he said.  “Let’s get out and check out in the swamps.  At least we may see a rabbit or some squirrels or something.”

“Sure deal, man.”

They got out and went a ways.  This time they both shot at a few squirrels and even a few rabbits, but no nutria.  At one point, Josh shot at a squirrel and it began to fall out of the tree it was in, only to get stuck where the tree forked into two branches.  They threw some rocks and sticks trying to knock it out, even shook the tree, which was only about six inches in circumference.  Yet, it wouldn’t come down.

“Heck, Ryan, I think we may have lost it.”

“No.  I think I can get it.”

“How?  We have tried everything!”

“Not everything,” Ryan said as he slung his gun around to rest on his back with the other two.  He walked up to the tree and grabbed hold of it with his hands.

“It’s not going to work, man.  We already tried shaking it.”

“I’m not going to shake it,” he said.  I’m going to climb it.”  With that, Ryan placed his foot against the trunk of the tree and pushed himself up.  Now, the tree looked a lot like a real skinny wooden pole until about sixteen feet up or so where it branched off into two separate branched, where the squirrel hung.  Josh watched in awe as Ryan moved up the pole.  One hand in front of the other, pulling himself up while wrapping his bare feet around the truck to support himself.  Within seconds, he reached the squirrel and tossed it down to Josh.  Neither of them said a word for several minutes afterward.

The silence was broken when Ryan said, after walking further through the swamp, “I never thought it would be this hard to find nutria.

“Yeah, they are all over the place at my dad’s house.”

“Really?” said Ryan, “Why didn’t you say that before?”

“Just now thinking about it.”

“Well, why don’t we go back and go over there, then?”

“Actually, I’m all out of ammo.  I just used my last shell on that squirrel.”

Ryan checked his pockets, “Hmm, I’m out too.  I guess maybe we could go to Walmart first and pick some up.  Hey, what the heck is that?”

Josh looked in the same direction.  What he saw was very interesting.  Right smack in the middle of a bunch of cypress trees, the tree normally found in the swamps, was a big oak tree.  While not unheard of, it was very unusual.

“Well, you never know what you’ll see next,” said Josh.”

“Yeah.”

At that moment, they heard something making a loud noise from behind the oak tree.  It was a kind of screaming, yelling noise.  A high-pitched screeching.

“What was that?” Josh asked.

“Sounded like a cross between a nutria, a gator, and a bear,” Ryan replied.

At that moment, something stepped out from behind the tree that would make any lesser human beings scream.  These two, however, bucked up, ready to fight.

“That is the biggest nutria I have ever seen in my entire life,” said Ryan.

“It has got to be eight feet tall,” Josh agreed.

Ryan went for his German Lugar.  He shot.  It was empty.

“This is one of those situations that makes you want to curse,” he said.

The nutria opened its mouth to growl.  Josh noticed its teeth were stained red, with what looked like a pair of furry socks in its mouth.

“You think that thing might try to eat us?” Josh asked Ryan.

“I’ve never heard of a nutria eating a person before.  Then again, I’ve never heard of an eight-foot nutria, either.”

Josh looked around, trying to come up with some sort of plan.

“Maybe we should run in separate directions,” said Ryan.  “Most likely, it’ll be able to only catch one of us.  That way, at least one of us will live.”

“Easy for you to say,” Josh replied, “You just climbed a sixteen foot tree with your bare hands.  I think you are more apt to get away than I am.”

“Very true.  Well, it was nice knowing you,” Ryan said as he turned and started to run. 

It was at this moment, however, that the nutria also began to run.  And it ran rather fast.  Josh, taking Ryan’s advice, began to run in the opposite direction.  Yet, he noticed that the nutria went on chasing Ryan rather than chasing him.  Josh couldn’t stand the thought of Ryan being nutria food, and quickly decided on a plan of action.  He noticed several vines were hanging in the swamp, hurried as quickly as he could up the oak tree, and grabbed on to one.

“What the hay,” he said as he pushed off.

Within seconds, he was swinging through the forest.  He would let go of one vine, fly a bit, and then catch onto another.  He soon saw that he was coming up quick on the nutria.  It was sitting at the base of a tree, beginning to climb up.  Only it was so big, it couldn’t hold itself up long and fell after only getting up a few feet.  At the top of the tree, hanging on tight, was Ryan.

Josh let go of his vine and was flying directly towards the nutria.  He landed about five feet away.  The nutria, intent on Ryan, did not notice.  Josh bent down and picked up a rock.  He tossed it so that it landed just on the ground next to the nutria.  The nutria turned its head to see what caused the distraction.  It did not, however, like what it saw.

When it turned around it saw Josh, who had by now also taken his shirt off and wrapped it around his head.  Above Josh’s head was his hand.  In his hand was a crowbar.

Ryan looked down from above.  “Oh great,” he thought, another giant nutria.  And this one has a crowbar!”

Josh stretched his arm back behind him, and then flung it forward while releasing the crowbar.  He watched as it spun through the air.  Suddenly, it stopped.  The pointy end of the crowbar was resting in the nutria’s forehead, the curved end pointing out towards Josh.  Slowly, the nutria slumped down.

“Well, Ryan.  We got your nutria!”