I faced some fears today. I got outside as early as I could, while the temperatures were still in the 70s, and braved the spiders and other unknown pests in the back to retrieve the lawn mower and get the front cut down to size. I approached the shed with trepidation, thinking back a week or two to seeing the red-headed dog chasing a large rat out from under it during the daytime. Between rodents, potential snakes (according to neighbors and friends who have seen them recently), and the giant spiders, I have been hiding out, not wanting to be outside at all. I slowly opened the shed door, and held my body back as far as I could for a few seconds, while I looked inside carefully. I had to screw up courage to reach inside for the mower, imagining a black widow spider the size of a fist was going to leap across the dark space at my hand. Lucky for me, there was nothing of the sort, and I was able to fire up the mower and push toward the front of the house. Most of my banana spiders have moved on from their webs, but the big black and yellow lady by the chimney was still in place, and she really did not like the roaring mower coming up next to her home. I had to go through the gate at least six times, and it really made me nervous and watchful every time I went past her.
The news has been full of reports of bitey things all summer long. The day the first tropical storm blew through here, a large gator was run over in the middle of a busy street not more than a few miles from me, and that was the first of many to make the tv news. With all the rains, they have been wandering out on the beaches, and animal control officers euthanized at least one of them. I saw a couple of them last week, one a little baby about 18 inches long, dead on the side of the highway, while we were driving slowly home from the mountains, and another live one in the pond at Drayton Hall (and I didn't get a single comment about that one when I put his picture up that day). I was told that they can sprint 35 miles an hour, and go vertical, propped up on their tails if they are inspired to go after something. I feel more comfortable with my decision that day to back away from the dock on the river, when I heard rustling and splashing in the reeds, in a known alligator hangout. And gators are not the only troublemakers. I haven't lived here long, but I don't recall this many reports of sharks last year or the year before. There have been sharks washing up on the beach, getting pulled up by fishermen right on the shore, and a child surfer facing down a bull shark and escaping injury to talk to the tv reporters. This is all in the last month.
With all the somewhat intimidating wild animals, I'm about to take my cues from my melancholy baby cat. I keep finding her burrowed in strange places, hiding out. A couple days ago, she was under the rug I threw on the landing where the dog sleeps, and today she crawled under a chair cushion and stayed. I'm one good scare away from joining her.
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