All my life I've been that guy who couldn't bear the thought of injuring another living creature. The kind of person who can't go to the SPCA because I get depressed that I can't rescue all of the animals. The kind of person who would rather trap anything that found its way into my house - spiders, flys, bees, wasps, even rats - than to exterminate anything (except for cockroaches and mosquitos, I hate cockroaches and mosquitos). Two events from the past few days, however, have gone a long way toward changing my outlook.
I spent Thanksgiving at my girlfriend's aunt's home in Weimar, Tx, which is a speck on the map somewhere between Houston and San Antonio. And since I like the outdoors and I had 80 acres of pasture and woods to roam, I got up early and went for a walk. I went through the backyard, tiptoed past the bull loitering beside the gate and made my way through the pasture, carefully sidestepping the cow patties laid out like land mines throughout the field. A couple minutes later I heard an engine growl and turned back to see my girlfriend racing after me on a four-wheeler, having belatedly decided to join me on my excursion. All the while the forty or so cattle on the property barely glanced up from their morning grazing to notice the strangers in their midst, which was what I had expected since, like most people, I thought that cows were docile creatures that wouldn't mind a stranger or two wandering through their pasture.
Once my girlfriend had caught up to me, she abandoned the four-wheeler to join me on foot, and no sooner did we move through all of the cows when from behind us we heard what sounded like a trumpet calling troops to battle. We turned to see the bull, still by the house behind us, craning it's neck and sending forth this distress call before turning towards us and setting off at a brisk walk in our direction. Having heard the signal, all of the other cows turned toward us as well, and in an instant, we had forty or so cows approaching us from all sides. It may sound strange, but the whole scene was remeniscent of a zombie movie. As we all know, zombies stumble after their prey in super slow motion, but because they are relentless and there are so many of them, they eventually trap their prey and feast on their brains. Well, these cows were just as slow and just as relentless. As we moved toward the woods at the back of the property, the cows stayed close behind us, with the bull now in the lead. We began searching for escape routes from this low-speed chase, and eventually found a pathway that led into the woods. Thankfully, the cows were content to let us wander the woods in peace, and by the time we returned they had forgotten all about us. It's a good thing, too, because being mauled by a moo-cow doesn't seem to be a very dignified way to go. I suppose in the end the whole experience was a bit anticlimactic, but it was still pretty unsettling, not to mention it confirmed my long standing suspicion that all cows are assholes.
The second thing that has caused a rift between nature and me happened this morning. It was 6:00 and I had just stumbled into the shower when I was torn from my early morning stupor by a frantic banging on the bathroom door. My girlfriend, it seemed, had just gotten around to unpacking her bag from last weekend and, much to her surprise, found that she had a stow away...this guy.
The scorpion had been living in the side pouch of her overnight bag for at least the past three days. Of course, the task fell to me to eliminate our sinister looking friend. So I went to then kitchen, grabbed some oven mitts to use as armor, and prepared for battle. I though that there might be a science teacher at my school who could find a use for it, so I decided to try to trap the scorpion in a box of some sort. It was easy enough, and five minutes later I was out the door, just another Tuesday morning with a scorpion in a box.
Once I arrived at work, I began making the rounds to see if any science teachers were interested in my new friend. The 6th grade teacher couldn't refuse fast enough, but the 8th grade teacher was intrigued and asked to take a look inside the box. So, ever so carefully, I pulled back the lid to reveal...nothing! The scorpion had escaped! Worse, since I had trapped him just before leaving the house, he had almost certainly executed his escape in my car! So rather than doing anything remotely productive, I spent all morning trying to figure out the best way to find/remove a scorpion from its hiding spot deep inside of the passenger seat of my car. Ultimately I decided to go to a full service car wash to see if they could vacuum it out. When I informed the attendant of my dilemma, he assured me that "If he's in there, we'll suck him out." His calm confidence was exactly what I needed to hear because although scorpion removal can't possibly be a common task for them, he made it seem routine and easy, which allows me carry on in life with the unshakeable belief that my car is now scorpion free. Dear Lord, I hope so.
Anyway, to make a couple of long stories short, nature and I are no longer on speaking terms.
-T
