It was opening day of quail season and a bunch of the 'regulars' decided to go out to try and rustle up a few birds. Where we hunt its dry, rocky and covered with cactus, yucca, pinon, and scrub oak. We'd been walking for hours it seemed and my husband decided that it was time to 'mark his territory'. When he asked for the toilet paper I knew to place some distance between us. I wandered off towards a pile of rocks and sat while the others checked around for imaginary birds. Suddenly we heard a loud, startled 'Whoa!'. I jumped up and hurried over to where Steve had disappeared in a grove of pinon. He was coming out, pulling his camo jeans up.
Whats up? I asked and he pointed to the place he had just recently occupied. Now I'm not stupid, there was NO WAY I was going in there after him to see what he'd made! 'I didn't do anything' he insisted, 'Just look in there, real slowly'. I peered into the clearing at the base of a group of trees and there was a small rattlesnake, shaking his tail at me in warning. Suddenly it dawned on me... my husband had dropped his drawers and had almost squatted over that rattlesnake! He almost got his butt bit, and that poor snake almost got dumped upon. The image of the possibilities was too much and I burst out laughing. By now the others had run over and joined in the laughter. Buddy, all I can say is that if he did get bitten, there was no way I was sucking the poison out from THAT wound. As for the snake, he has no idea how lucky he was that day! (yes, that is a picture of the actual snake)
No comments:
Post a Comment