"I'm Afraid of that Beaver!"

One of the first impressions I had when I got off the bus at FCI, Morgantown was of the deer and ducks. The prison camp is nestled in the mountains, actually a small valley evoking to my mind a china soup bowl from some views.  The residential units ring a compound below and the wooded tree line with ring roads, farms, and factories rise above the facility.  Originally, FCI, Morgantown was the Kennedy Youth facility, and this natural setting was perfect for the purpose.  As you might guess a great deal of the charm was lost when it was converted over to a prison camp.  Local lore has it that Barbara Walters visited the facility years ago and dubbed Morgantown, "Camp Cupcake."  The authorities have gone to considerable lengths to abolish the appearances (the pool, tennis courts, etcetera) that prompted Ms. Walter's nickname; nonetheless, it's customary for inmates to ironically welcome new guys to "Camp Cupcake." 

The deer, ducks, and other wildlife roam the grounds and congregate around the seven residential units: Byrd (of course, it's West-By-God Virginia), Bennett, Gerrard (after the first director of the Kennedy Youth Center), Alexander, Bates-(the residential drug abuse program), Randolph, and Carlson (where I resided.)  The population of deer, ducks, geese, wild turkey, raccoons, groundhogs, are augmented by two white bulls that wander down from a local farm, which as far as I know is not associated with the prison camp,  from above the tree line.  As you might imagine inmates feed the authorities fight a losing battle to keep these population of ducks, et al. at a minimum.  Thus it is illegal to feed the animals and inmates are employed as wildlife relocation specialists and "duck scrubbers."  The latter clean duck and goose shit off the walkways.  Since "helper dogs" are trained and kept by inmates (in the Alexander unit) the dogs are also used for deterrence (there's that word again!)  The authorities also bought plastic crouching coyotes, fox, and other scary looking plastic predators/lawn ornaments to scare off the animals.  The wildlife is not impressed.  I'm told that last year two of the crouching coyotes were placed outside of the warden's office windows in a copulatory pose not appreciated by the warden or his subordinates.  Usually, when the COs are offended by some inmate prank there is an official institution-wide response--loss of an activity, although I'm unable to report what the response this provocation provoked.

In my last couple of months at Morgantown I was bunked in what is called an "overflow" room, a former TV/Card room converted to bunk space.  Nine guys shared the room and for the most part things were harmonious.  A new bunkee, GS, a former gang banger from the Bronx.  GS was a scary looking dude:  he almost looked like a 19th century pirate.  GS is all threatening muscle belied by a funny sort of charm and consideration for others.  We hit it off:  old white dude, street-smart NY kid. 

As you folks in the NE will recall Saturday and Sunday, April 9 and 10 were unseasonably warm. Most inmates spent the weekend outside hanging at NoName creek, walking the compound, playing softball and participating in outdoor rec.  Sunday, April 10th Carlson inmates were actually kicked out of our unit for a periodic "shakedown" and for some 3 1/2 hours no one was permitted in the unit as COs combed the bunks, lockers, and common areas looking for cigarettes, cell phones, and the like.  As the afternoon wore on many of us assembled at the foot of the path leading up to Carlson with an eye to the unit front doors.  It was in the 80s and some of us had had enough sun and were anxious to get back in the unit.  GS sidled up beside me, pointing halfway up the path to where a Groundhog was sitting upright gnawing on an apple someone had discarded beside. 

"[BL], I'm afraid of the beaver."

"GS, what beaver?"

"That Beaver eating the apple.  It doesn't like me, it watches me when I walk up to Carlson."

"GS, that's not a beaver. . . that's a Groundhog.  You know, like Puxatawny Phil?" 

"I'm scared of it, [BL]"

When it was time to go back to Carlson GS hovered to my left as the Groundhog nibbled the apple.  I protected him  When we safely arrived back at Carlson's front doors, GS gestured to the assembled Mallards. 

"I don't like them ducks, either."

Thank God, the wild turkeys and bulls hadn't chosen that moment to make themselves known or my pal GS might have been in the waiting area of the J-complex waiting to see Dr. Roff the psychologist.