No. A late night encounter with a baby coon and her mother.
The grass was tall.
Shots were fired.
And the police were nearby.
I'd trapped a juvenile coon, and the angry mama was nearby. I usually took the coons and possums I trapped out of town and released them. Mama wouldn't leave her baby. She was in full mad bear mode.
I had to dispatch the mama coon, and we lived a block from the police station.
One shot, and she was down. I was anxious about the noise, so rushed back in.
Wife's words were "are you SURE it's dead?"
Well, no, I was in a hurry to get back inside.
A second trip out. She was still breathing, so two more shots with the .22, and I skulk back into the house, listening for sirens.
As I stumbled back into the house, I felt something crawling up my leg.
I asked wife to help me remove my boots because I didn't want the pants press down on whatever was making it's way up my leg.
She started toward me as I finished my sentence "in case it's a snake."
Next thing I knew, the door to the adjoining room had slammed shut, and Wife had disappeared.
I was left hopping around in the living room, gun in hand, pants around my ankles, expecting the police to start banging on the door!
The deadly snake?
It was a grasshopper...
