Once I turned over a rock and a snake poked his head out of a hole under it. I think it was a coral snake. I’m not sure because I didn’t wait to ask him his national origins.
Another time I was fishing in the waters of a river that had overflowed its banks. Tiny islands of land protruded from the water, so I took off my shoes, rolled up my pants legs and waded out to one. The better to entice a big bass, you see.
There were several rocks on this tiny land protrusion. After several fruitless casts of my rod and reel, for some reason, I picked up one of those rocks and there was a critter underneath.
I reached for another rock to send him to wherever scorpions go where they die. There were three scorpions under that rock. Evidently, they were taking refuge from the rising water. Continue reading