As I may have pointed out, Mark is a good 4.5 hours away from Lost Forest right now- to be anywhere near salt water and Pelican habitat- yet he’s going to “take Rusty fishing” today?  Totally don’t understand that one…  and are we inviting Rusty to dinner, or does he go back in the trunk with the catch of the day?  And besides, Rusty who?  It’s not like Jessica has been introduced to the entire trail clan…

Oh, Marlin’s not going to be happy about supping with Trail.  Clearly Jessica has been drawn in by Mark’s outdoor nature writer wiles, and can barely resist him by standing there arms akimbo, chest thrust forward, asking him to dinner…  Rusty?  Rusty who??

So endeth the lesson…  Really?  I mean who the heck doesn’t know, by now, that throwing trash into the water is a big non-no??  But then I am reminded of my own experiences… going out bluefishing off the Jersey shore and watching the crew of the boat tossing can, bottles, cardboard, anything and everything off the back of the boat as we headed back in to port…  And the island of trash in the Pacific that is the size of Texas…

Mark is truly in his element here, judging by the look on his face in panel one.  “This story ought to write itself!” he must be thinking… But what evil lurks behind this eco-façade??  There must be something, otherwise why would Marlin and Jessica have exhibited such caution, bordering on paranoia??  We should know in a couple of weeks…

Especially the sail variety… the look of awe and reverence in the last panel gives away her passions… unless she had a spicy rigatoni last night, she is breathless in the face of such stuffed and mounted natural beauty…

But the phrase “work on Injured birds” leaves me a little cold… Minister to, nurse back to health, heal, anything but “work on…” Having your bird hospital share space with the tools of the taxidermy trade seems a little off-putting, unless of course one figures that whatever doesn’t get saved gets stuffed and sold.  I guess that’s what Henry Ford would call “vertical Integration,” like when he purchased rubber plantations on a distant continent so he could ensure the supply of rubber for the tires that went on his Model T…

And apparently you have hands made of asbestos or some other heat shielding material…  as Mark grabs the Ol’ #8 cast iron skillet by the bare handle…

Jessica:  Mark Trail, impervious to time and space, has been writing stories since before you were a gleam in your father’s eye…  and will continue to do so as you pass into old age and beyond.  Anyone rooted in the trailverse does not age.  All casual characters come and go like regular folks- even do prison time when appropriate… right, Jeff?  right, Jared?  Have you met anyone interesting in stir??

Well, Mark, enjoying a cup-o-Joe, head resting in your free hand, talking to your faithful companion Andy, who listens to your every word with heartbreaking loyalty…  “Spoil his little island”  what a funny phrase…  Mark seems almost miffed by the idea…

Meanwhile Marlin is putting finishing touches on… Oh My God, what IS that??  Looks like a fish, but it’s not anything that would look good hanging from a nail… We have yet to see anything that might be worth hiding from the outside world… but I need to be patient.  All will be revealed in the fullness of time.  We are barely into this story, I just need to let it unfold…

But what is he surprised about??  The fact that Marling does not like them, or the fact that Mark actually picked up on subtle, non-verbal cues???

Nice that Mark’s “equipment included a full size AX…  good lord, where were you hiding that, Trail??  Never mind that you should probably hop on down to the farm and fleet and pick yourself up a propane stove and a canister or two…  that way you won’t be leaving the ugly fire scars everywhere you “camp…”

And shouldn’t you birds be a-roosting by now?  Don’t you normally take your cues from the sunlight, or lack thereof?  Something is certainly amiss on this island…  I could draw upon a LOST reference, but I will resist the temptation…

I mean, Mark Trail WROTE THE BOOK (or at least a number of articles) on respecting and preserving nature… And Marlin, what has given you the impression that Mark wants to HURT anything?  This is so stupid.

In the second Panel we see that Mark has a few inches of height on Marlin, and it also appears that he has filled his chest cavity with air so as to appear larger than life.  This is the natural response of any number of species when confronted by a threat- puff up and out and make yourself appear large and scary…

…exchanging glances…  well, Marlin, you might be a great taxidermist (or not?) but you are a lousy spook.  That is unless you wanted to be found out.  While Mark is trying out his infrared / night-vision camera gear, Good Ol’ Andy detects the presence of an interloper and the gig is up!!  And then the two men engage in small talk… “This is a nice spot for it!” Marlin offers nervously/ excitedly…  Anything to drag the story line out…

Once more the stilted quality of the dialogue is revealed in the inaccurate bolding of words…  should not it be “What are you DOING, Trail?” as compared to “WHAT are you doing, Trail?”  I swear these guys don’t listen to their own dialogue before it goes into the can and onto the printed page…  by the way, that’s a great look on Mark’s face in panel two.  A neutral treatment of the lip-line gives away- what? Who knows.  I just don’t remember ever seeing Mark with this level of emotional non-commitment.  Or may we have, whenever Rusty and Cherry are around…

At Zero-Dark-thirty??  Seriously?  And it looks more like Old Mr. Raccoon is busy adding to his rock collection, not searching for food.  Although it’s safe to say that he’s doing that or maybe looking to hook up with Miss Raccoon…

But with Marlin lurking in Rhododendron, what are we to think?  Making sure that Mark is exhibiting all the behaviors of a nature writer/ photographer?  And what are those exactly?  Impeccable grammar?  Go Good?   Go well?  Go big or go home??

Does God have a speaking role in the Trailverse?  And does the Heavenly Host play the supporting cast?  The words seem to be coming out of the clouds, and the second balloon has more than one callout…  And PRIVACY… yes, Mark, that’s what they want and now are not getting by virtue of your presence… duh.

I am beginning to get seriously concerned about Andy’s tongue…  Is it that he can’t keep it in his head?  And Mark, I certainly hope that you will be cleaning up after yourself, scarring the earth with your campfire, not to mention the giant dog’s potential leave-behinds…  An inauspicious start to the week, that’s for sure.  Would have been better suited to a throwaway Saturday strip…

Forget everything I might have implied about not displaying any outward signs of evil…  Squinty eyes tell lies… every time!!  Better wrap up your conversation, Jessica.  As Mr. Wood Duck (Common Grebe?) looks on in panel two, Mark is heading toward you and might hear…  obtuse, nosy, clueless, trusting, imposing, thy name is Trail…

Sure, Mr. Trail, stay awhile, we wouldn’t want you to suspect that there is anything to HIDE here…

We are reminded again that it’s Mark obtuse nature and inability to empathize with his fellow human being that places him in the middle of things…  I mean, if he had picked up the phone and called Jessica Canupp, asked for permission to visit, this story would have been over before it started…  Yet here he is.  Little did Eddie the Dock guy know that Jessica and Marlin are UP TO NO GOOD!!  I mean how else could they afford to keep up the ante bellum mansion in the shadows behind them in panel one?  Trust fund?  Maybe, but my money is on Marlin trafficking heroin inside his stuffed creations…

The crazy thing is that Marlin and Jessica don’t fit the profile of bad people- no facial hair, no unprovoked belligerence, they form full sentences and seem to adhere to all manner of social propriety and decorum…  But there’s Mark, picking up his “equipment” and moving right in.  If there was ever a guy who couldn’t pick up on a subtle sign or hint, it’s him!

And by “equipment” you mean?  Such are the loaded words of our intrepid hero.  But I probably overthink this…

Let’s study the profile of one Jessica Canupp (that’s one n and two p’s, please…)  She is right out of the Mark Trail clip art library.  Raven hair, long lashes, the look of a Hollywood matinee idol, but with khakis on and a heart of infinite capacity when it comes to the outdoors and wildlife.  Probably a trust fund baby with virtually unlimited resources…

So far Marlin hasn’t had much of a speaking part.  He keeps being talked about and referred to as if he wasn’t standing right there…  Yet everyone knows him as “Marlin the Taxidermist.”  Remember, his name is Ethan Fauscett; I wonder if he even remembers that?

No doubt delivered many times over his career, this is the line that gets him into the club every time…  no velvet rope/ bouncer issues for Mark Trail!  I am an outdoor writer and photographer… Really?  Do you have credentials?  Or do I just take your word for it? How do I know you aren’t under-cover something or other, here to violate one of my constitutional rights??

Check out the expression on Jessica Canupp’s face- it’s not saying “Thank you!” but rather, “Thank you… I think??”  As in, “For real?  What’s this guy’s angle… really…”  Ever notice how each line of dialogue is followed by and exclamation point?  To the point that we really don’t even notice??  What if that was the way life really is…  no pauses, no ellipses, just urgency.  I would think that everyone would be tired all the time…

Well, I guess the guy with the spear was no more than a plot device allowing Marlin and Jessica to get to know Mark Trail before he properly introduces himself… Which he does straight away- without so much as being asked.  “My name is Mark Trail,” he offers, unsolicited… Almost as if he has a string to pull out of his back with a limited numbers of lines that recycle throughout the day…

Boyfriend, huh?  Well, Marlin, you are in good company.  Mark knows all about the “boyfriend thing…”  just don’t make the mistake he did and hang around long enough to end up with a ring on your finger and a stray boy in your charge…  Marlin’s brow does seem to be a bit knitted… his hackles are up , not realizing that Mark is no threat to him or his girl…

And Andy, what’s with your tongue??  Better reel that back in before a snapping turtle takes a shine to it…

I think Mark and Marlin were separated at birth… either that or they go to the same barber…

And isn’t that cute?  Jessica calls her boyfriend by his nickname…  Marlin.  Better than “Buck” or “Walleye,” I suppose.  Of course these people wouldn’t know of the Wiley Walleye, not in the semi-brackish waters of the Intercoastal Waterway…

As Mark reels in his catch and gives him a good tongue-lashing, the mystery mounts on the dock at Jessica Canupp’s place…  “Who is that guy,” they wonder out loud.  Who is that guy who can grab a poacher with such force as to make his hat fly right off his head?!?  “A day like any other day,” thinks Buddy the Poacher, “But on this day, the Wrath of the Nature Writer scorned comes raining down upon me…”  Or something like that…

I continue to see where the story line is jumping through space time hoops… following the flight of the turtle spear, and Mark’s Neo-like Matrix maneuver, entire sentences are uttered and people allowed to witness agape at what is going down on the water!  And just who is this saucy dish looking on?  Why no doubt it’s Jessica Canupp… and judging by the hulking silhouette on the dock next to her in panel three, we can probably rest easy in the notion that the turtle poacher is NOT boyfriend “Marlin.”  Whew…

OK, Mark, grab the rope and give it a good tug!  That poacher is no match for your daring-do powered by goodness and light!!  But I repeat, that poacher must have really been on a hair trigger to be going for the jugular on first brush… I mean they barely got three sentences out…

“Hey Mister” he says, accusingly, “You aren’t allowed to do that.”  Sounds like a kid on the grade school playground pointing out to a classmate that hanging upside-down on the monkey bars is “against the rules.”  To which the spear-wielding scofflaw replies with a death threat.  Sure.  He’s so desperate to put food on his family’s table that he will not allow anything to come between him and tasty turtle tartar, not even a random guy who has promoted himself to Game Warden.  But who knew that Turtle Slaughter was a problem?

As this story takes shape, or not, we now have any number of directions it could take… We have been teased by a pelican loving woman named Jessica and her Taxidermist boyfriend “Marlin,” and now we have a random poacher introduced.  It’s like poaching is the only truly indictable offense in this world…  and remember- it’s not like Ol’ Eddie who would do “a little poaching,” but rather like these brazen types that are out in broad daylight (or flashlight) breaking the law with impunity…

Now we are back where everything makes sense.  When Mark is around his family you can just feel the tension…  The unspoken, “Don’t you have someplace you should be going?  Isn’t there a story out there you could be chasing?”  So into the transporter machine we go, conquering space and time, and we are back on the water looking for something to write about.  No phone calls to warn of his arrival, no permissions granted, just another, “Hi, I’m Mark Trail.  I write Stories.  I would like to get nosy about your business…”

And of course he stumbles upon an act of violence against the animal kingdom, in violation of rule and section that he no doubt has memorized down to the state and county level, including bag, possession and slot limits.  Are we to understand that the bump sticking out of the water right off the bow is the back of a sea turtle?  That Mark can make that ID from 50 yards?  See the look of anger and anguish on Mark’s face as he witnesses this crime being perpetrated…  Will he confront?  Let’s stay tuned…

According to the Wiki, Lost Forest is in Sandy Springs, GA.  Let’s assume for a moment that Mark and rusty headed to the coast, say Jacksonville, FL.  That’s a 5 hour drive.  Savannah, GA.  4 hours.  Charleston, SC.  5 hours.  Unless they have mastered space and time, it’s unlikely that they would be back at Lost Forest in time for dinner…  They would have had to leave at midnight, fished in the morning, off the water at noon and on the road…  Maybe I am just shocked, dismayed and disappointed (as I am sure they are) at having the family all back together again.  Bad things happen when they are all together…

Nice job feigning interest, Cherry.  And Mark how about “I am going to go to Pelican Point to bother Jessica and her boyfriend and see what trouble I can get myself into…”  That is a much more declarative statement.  You don’t need anyone’s permission, if that’s what you are angling for… you are Mark Trail after all…