The Stowaway
No one could have prescribed a more perfect day. The temperature was in the mid 70s and the sky was a brilliant blue, highlighted by a few small puffs of scattered clouds at 5,000 feet. I opened the hangar door and pulled out the beautiful blue and white clipped wing Taylorcraft. During my preflight, I pulled a few pieces of lint and paper from the tail of the airplane. Kirk, the owner, had recently installed a smoke system so I assumed that it must be the remnants of his work and thought nothing of it. I carefully cleaned out the airplane, completed my preflight, donned my parachute and tightly strapped myself into the airplane.
I took off from the small grass runway at the Flying Circus Aerodrome and blasted off to Warrenton airport. On the way, I ran through my entire aerobatic sequence a couple times to practice for an upcoming contest. Kirk had decided to come to the airport, watch me fly and critique my sequence. So, after a quick rest I was back in the air.
It was in the middle of my sequence while pulling vertical into a hammerhead when something flashed in my peripheral vision. I thought I saw movement inside the plane. I was thinking that something could have come loose in the airplane. So, I turned my head a little bit further and instantly gasped. I thought to myself that this couldn’t be real. But there he was, a 3 inch field mouse sitting on my shoulder harness, perilously close to my face and staring at me with his beady little eyes. I quickly leveled the plane and tried to catch my breath. Was he friend or foe? It didn’t matter to me. I just knew I wanted out of that plane.
But here I was stuck aloft with what could very well be one angry little mouse. I knew I had to get this plane down and fast. I urgently began a spiral to lose altitude quickly and get to the runway. I feebly made my radio call, “Warrenton Unicom, Experimental 43494, landing Warrenton, what is your active?” Kirk responded “You can use 32. What’s wrong?”
Out of sheer embarrassment, I refused to tell him. I simply said, “Every thing is okay; I’ll tell you when I get on the ground.” I was still over 2,000 feet so I continued my spiral and glided down to pattern altitude abeam the numbers of runway 32.
I didn’t want anyone in my way and wanted to ensure I was number one in the pattern. So, I declared an emergency. Of course, this prompted Kirk to ask again what was wrong and I repeated, “I’ll tell you when I land!” As I eased the plane out of the spiral and onto a short base to final, I turned my head back to look at the mouse. He was gone. This only made things more unsettling. Where did he go? It took everything in my power to remain still. I continued squirming, thinking that at any moment from nowhere I would feel his little feet crawling all over me. It took everything I had to concentrate on flying the airplane and ignore the feeling that suddenly this critter could begin climbing up my back or even a more precarious spot.
On my final approach I knew I had to stick the landing because this was not the time to have to make a go around. I managed to get it down the first try and as soon as the tail wheel settled on the pavement I scurried off the first available turn off. I stopped and keyed the radio before jumping out of the plane. “Warrenton Unicom. Experimental 43494. Kirk, are you still monitoring?”
“Yes,” he responded. “The airplane’s ok. I’m okay. I am sitting on the taxiway next to runway 32. Can you come get the plane? I’m getting out.” “Why?” he said. “There’s a mouse in the plane!” I exclaimed.
His response was cold and unforgettable. “A mouse? You better taxi that airplane up here if you ever want to fly it again.” I sighed and gritted my teeth as I made what had to be the fastest S-turn taxi in the history of aviation. I shut down and hurriedly climbed out. What greeted me was excruciatingly humbling. Running up to me, Kirk began jumping up and down in mockery, “Eek! eek! a mouse, a mouse.”
Although Kirk made fun he did say he thought my reaction to the mouse was cute. The four too many witnesses to this little event, who by coincidence were the only four people at the airport, could not understand why a wing walker and aerobatic pilot could be afraid of a tiny little mouse. But they were not in there with this creature. I had just completed some extreme unusual attitudes and did not think this mouse was there to offer me a peace treaty. I still do not know where he was while I was practicing, but do have to give him credit. To survive five times your own weight without being strapped down to anything is a remarkable feat. He may possibly be the first aerobatic mouse.
I refused to fly the airplane back to the aerodrome, so Kirk told me that he would take it back. On his departure he changed his call signed to “Mickey Mouse 1”. I would not fly that same day, but did so the following afternoon, including aerobatics. We set a couple of traps in the airplane but were unsuccessful at catching him. Maybe after a couple of air shows and some of Kirk’s outside loops he decided that an aerobatic plane was not the place to build a home. Later, in an effort to rid myself of my fear of mice, I bought the children a pet hamster and it actually worked. If I’m ever joined again by my little stowaway I might just be okay.
By Jane Wicker
Jane is not only an accomplished wing walker, but a commercial/aerobatic pilot, writer and speaker as well. She motivates, stimulates and entertains as she shares her adventurous background with others. For more information about Jane or having her appear at your meeting or event contact her at jwtigergirl@braemarnet.com and visit her website at www.beautyonethewing.com.