When I announced our
move to Texas, the reactions were mixed.
The most unexpected, however, was the fear of Texas wildlife. Noel was scared of scorpions and Becky wasn’t
crazy about armadillos. It hadn’t
occurred to me that this alien environment would have “alien” critters.
The first scorpion
skittering across our bedroom floor made my heart stop. I was reading in bed; Tim was snoring. What to do?
No weapons came to mind. The book
in hand didn’t seem weighty enough to stop the full-sized arachnid. My arms flapped at Tim. Flustered, he awoke and reached for a
shoe. A smack, a flush, and the scorpion
was gone.
Only after the
spider’s appearance did I learn that San Antonio’s mild winter and dry summer
had resulted in larger than normal scorpion populations. Oh goody!
(Sarcasm should be inferred in this last sentence.)
The scorpion’s appearance
raised the obvious next question: What
happens if I get stung by one?
(FYI: They don’t bite. They don’t have teeth. That ominous-looking
tail stings.) The Texas Poison Center
Network suggests that adults treat their stings by washing the stinging area
well, applying a cold compress, and then swabbing the area with antiseptic. Take acetaminophen for pain. That question answered.
Moving involves a lot
of questions. Where’s the closest
grocery store? post office? bank? How do
I find a good dentist? hair stylist? mechanic?
I was prepared for these queries, but not for dealing with wildlife.
Another critter has
appeared in our neighborhood too – mountain lions. In suburban St. Louis, we wrestled with
raccoons, opossums, and the occasional wild turkey. But mountain lions? Really?
The neighborhood website recommends keeping an eye on children and small
animals. I guess because a mountain lion
might consider them “lunch?” Neighbors
actually filmed a mountain lion sunning on their deck. Geez.
What do I do if I
come face to face with a mountain lion? More
research.
Since mountain lions
like to snack on smaller animals, the experts recommend no crouching or
squatting. People should work to appear
as large as possible, standing on tip-toe and spreading arms wide. Exaggerated size may discourage the mountain
lion.
While I’m more a “get-me-the-hell-away-from-this-thing”
girl, wildlife agencies insist that people not run from mountain lions, as that
movement can trigger an instinct in the lion to chase perceived prey. Since this is an animal that can run down a
deer or elk, I don’t stand much chance at outrunning the big cat. So I’m supposed to face the cat and try to
appear larger than I am? I hope I don’t
have to put that strategy to the test; fainting seems much more likely.
What other wildlife
research do I need? Tim saw a roadrunner
recently. No sign of Wil E. Coyote
though. Regardless, I don’t expect my
research is going to produce any remedies for being hit in the head with an
anvil or grand piano.
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