Free Cottage Daze by James Ross

who will fit in, use their imaginations, and join in the time-tested cottage activities. At their summer escape, they want to surround themselves with those who will unabashedly play their made-up games of manhunt, James Bond, capture the flag, and, after dark, the sinister murder game. They play old, traditional board games, and can spend whole days frolicking in the lake, never complaining that they’re cold.
    The best cottage guests? They create memories that make you laugh. They suddenly pull harmonicas out of their pockets at the evening campfire and entertain. Who knew they were musical? They have their own fun and funky fireside songs and games. They religiously rise in the early morning, jump into the lake, and scream like some phantom lake monsters. They get the kids up early and take them out fishing. A fellow cottage friend said she had a guest who would play the trombone every morning at the end of the dock while the sun was rising. Others will lie out on the swim rock at night, looking up at the stars and pointing out to the kids all the constellations.
    There is always that brief moment of contemplation — before the dive.
    The guests we invite to our cottage, good friends and family alike, are those that we care enough about to want to share our favourite place on earth. The good ones do not simply take from the experience, but rather add to it. By doing so, they tend to find their way into our cottage lore. Also, by doing so, they tend to ensure themselves of another invite!
    The Food Chain
    My wife stumbled onto the battle scene first. She had gone to retrieve the watering can, which is stored under the front porch of the cottage, when she jumped back with a shrill screech.
    Of course this drew the attention of my children, who, although they never seem to hear the clang of the dinner bell calling them for a meal, respond at once to a horrified yelp. They arrived at the scene even before I bravely came running to the rescue. We peered under the wood decking, crouching cautiously to gain a better view.
    A long black, green, and yellow garter snake was the reason for my wife’s consternation, but it was the battle that was ensuing that caught the fancy of the rest of us. There was a tug-of-war going on between the snake and a huge, brown, wrinkly toad. The snake had one of the toad’s legs in its hinged mouth and was working hard to envelop the rest of the poor creature — a feat that seemed to me to be impossible.
    In a fatherly way, I was a little concerned to have the children take in this morbid scene. The kids simply found the whole thing captivating — although the descriptive words “gross” and “sick” were generously applied. We watched as the snake gained some ground, pulling the toad farther under the wooden porch. Then we watched the toad hop gamely towards the light.
    The battle continued for much of the day, and for most of the length of the deck. Though I lost interest after a time and returned to my work, the children exhibited an untiring fascination. They peered through the cracks and gave a running commentary. They cheered for the toad. When I shuffled them off into the cabin for bed that night, the battle had not yet been won — or lost.
    The children were up unusually early the next day and quickly out to the covered porch, but after searching exhaustively and peering through every crack, they reported that the fight must have ended. They concluded that the toad must have escaped.
    Old-fashioned fun — shooting pebbles into the lake.
    Later that same day, I came across the snake sunning itself on a rock by the water’s edge. Evidence dictated that the battle’s outcome had been very different from what my kids had hoped for, or I had thought possible. As the snake slithered slowly away, I could see the huge bulge halfway along the length of its sleek body. It looked like I feel after a huge Thanksgiving dinner.
    I wondered whether to