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(Taken From My Official Newsletter, Issue 29,
June 2004)
On occasion, conversations will start
like this in our house.
"Julie, will this kill me?"
"No, that's a daddy longlegs."
"What about this?"
"That's a twig, Simon."
The problem is that there aren't any
dangerous animals in England. Obviously, there's the fabled
beast of Bodmin Moor, which hasn't been bestial in twenty
years or so. There are adders but I've never seen one. There's
a slow worm, which is technically a snake but is the kind
of snake that gets sand kicked in its face at the beach,
hence the reason it's called a worm. Not to say there isn't
a chance you'll come across a frog with a switchblade or
a hedgehog with a hand grenade. As Ian Brown says in his
song (but for entirely different reasons) "There
are no lions in England." This is probably why there isn't
much hunting in the UK--although as a side note, last year,
the British government authorized the culling of 20,000 hedgehogs.
Many a proud hunter went home with a hedgehog strapped to the
hood/bonnet of their car that week. Well, it made a difference
from going home with them embedded in a tyre.
But America is different. There are plenty of creatures here
that can do me harm. Every day is like a David Attenborough
documentary. I've seen bears rip a car open and discovered
they do sh*t in the woods, as do I when faced with a two ton
brown bear. Obviously, bears are easy to spot and sport their
dismemberment capability credentials like a badge of honor.
Also, they don't tend to hang around my neighborhood too much.
But there are plenty of other predators that do. Like spiders.
A black widow fell out the ivy I was trimming the other week.
I give these buggers a wide berth
after an incident a few years back. One was in the house
and Julie showed it to me so that I would know what to be
scared of. How comforting. After she was finished showing
me this lethal creature, she went to drop of it down the
garbage disposal. I said, "No
way." I had visions of the damn thing growing after living
off food scraps and bursting out during the night to get me.
Julie's next bright idea was to flush the black widow down
the toilet. I wasn't going for this one either. Spidey might
be a good swimmer and I didn't want it getting me in the end--if
you know what I mean. After some discussion, we decided on
drowning it. Julie pulled out a Tupperware container, filled
it with water and we popped the spider in there and sealed
the top. We expected a quick death. Instead we witnessed a
desperate fight. The spider thrashed inside the container causing
it to bounce across the kitchen counter. The water turned black.
What that was about I don't want to know. Two hours later,
the thing went quiet in the Tupperware drowning room and we
dumped the whole thing in the trash, too afraid to open it.
I wish black widows were the only
spiders to worry about. I find many other brightly colored
and scary looking arachnids wandering around the homestead,
which usually ends with me saying, "Julie, will this
kill me?"
And it's not just at the house where
things can get me. Last year, in the Berkeley hills, Royston
and I came across a snake. In unison, we leaned over for
a closer look. Before I could ask, "Julie, will this kill me?" The
little snake raised his tail and rattled it. Both Royston
and I reacted Scooby Doo style, screaming and jumping in
the air. This outburst scared the rattler and he bolted just
as quickly as us. So, if you come across a rattlesnake in
the wild, just a tip that a large display of cowardice shames
any self-respecting rattler into retreat.
I'm not free from airborne attack either. There are some fearsome
looking birds of prey floating about. Royston once had a hawk
dive-bomb him and steal a mouse that was darting around in
front of him. I think Tippi Hendren scared me as a child as
I won't venture outside when the barbecue grill is going and
the birds are circling.
I'm not anti-nature by any means.
But I like the softer side of her. I want it to be very Disney
where everyone gets along and everyone sings songs. Unfortunately,
that's not going to happen. Only yesterday, a lizard bit
me I was trying save from Streetcar. I accept that I shall
have to remain content with never leaving the house without
my pocket edition of Big Book of Things That Kill--California
Edition--and calling out, "Julie,
will this kill me?"
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