itsmecindi
Gold Member
I had some folks show up at the house to buy a couple of little hogs for 4-H. I made a deal with my son Jake.
"Yes, you can go hunting, but please be back here by five thirty this evening to catch these little hogs for me."
Sure enough, at five thirty-one, here he came walking across the pasture. Mr. and Mrs. Hog Buyer were standing there with me. We watched him lean his rifle against the fence and then climb over. The sun was behind him, so it was kind of hard to make out any details until he got closer, but we all three saw it at once, and made the same remark.
"What the heck is that he's got in his hand?"
I figured it out first.
"That better not be venomous, Jake!" I yelled, and then started backing up. On reflex, Mr. and Mrs. Hog Buyer started backing up too. It was clearly a snake, about three feet long, and I noted with some relief that it was not moving. Jake tossed the snake down on the ground in front of us. The red, yellow, and black pattern got Mr. Hog Buyer going.
"That's a...that's one of those, uh...lemme see...red touches black...somethin' about Jack."
"When red touches black, you're okay Jack. When red touches yellow, you're a dead fellow. It's a coral snake." I supplied. Anybody could see that the red bands were clearly touching the yellow ones. "Jake, what'd I tell you about messing with these snakes!?"
"Well I wouldn't have killed it, but I was sitting on a log and it crawled out between my legs and I figured better safe than sorry. I penned it with the butt of my rifle and then I used my knife to cut it's head off."
Mrs. Hog Buyer was still standing there with her mouth hanging open and Mr. Hog Buyer was studying Jake from head to toe, taking in the dusty Wranglers, the rodeo T-shirt and the muddy all weather boots.
This was nothing new for me. If it's not a coral snake, it's a pygmy rattler or water moccasin or some other vile slithering creature. We have a policy. If it's venomous and we feel threatened by it, it's a dead snake.
I can't count how many times he has brought home snakes. Some moving, some not. Some, like this one, missing vital parts of their anatomy. He can see snakes where I don't, and has so many different methods for dispatching them to snake heaven that I have lost count.
Mrs. Hog Buyer leaned over and whispered in my ear.
"You don't worry about him getting bitten?"
"Every day! But you can't tell him anything, and so far he has never been bitten and on at least one occasion, he kept me from being bitten. Of course I worry, but if I'm going to let him live the way he wants, it's part of the deal."
I could tell that she was teetering on the brink of making a decision regarding my parenting skills, so I played my ace.
"Look at this way. Sure, there's a risk. But if you think about it, life is just one risk after another. Plummeting down the highway in a vehicle at seventy miles an hour is a risk. Flying in an airplane...riding a motorcycle, or even a bicycle is a risk. Handling a firearm, or a firecracker is a risk. If boys are going to grow up into strong, self-maintaining men, they are going to take risks, whether it's in the woods or on the streets. It's in their nature. As a parent, you take precautions and then you hope for the best. That's all you can do."
"I guess." She was nodding, mulling it over.
My words were brave. Half the time I worry myself sick, but that doesn't change the fact that it was all true. You cannot shield a child from all the risks in life and expect them to grow up and be able to take care of themselves, or know what to do or how to act in a risky situation. Every day that passes I worry, but I know that Jake, at fourteen, is living his life the way he wants, and that's more than can be said for a lot of us grown ups. Risks notwithstanding.
Just a note here.....I have been negotiating with Ted Nugent's office. Looks like I may have a spot in his magazine, 'Adventure Outdoors'. Pretty cool huh? Really nice people. /forums/images/graemlins/grin.gif
"Yes, you can go hunting, but please be back here by five thirty this evening to catch these little hogs for me."
Sure enough, at five thirty-one, here he came walking across the pasture. Mr. and Mrs. Hog Buyer were standing there with me. We watched him lean his rifle against the fence and then climb over. The sun was behind him, so it was kind of hard to make out any details until he got closer, but we all three saw it at once, and made the same remark.
"What the heck is that he's got in his hand?"
I figured it out first.
"That better not be venomous, Jake!" I yelled, and then started backing up. On reflex, Mr. and Mrs. Hog Buyer started backing up too. It was clearly a snake, about three feet long, and I noted with some relief that it was not moving. Jake tossed the snake down on the ground in front of us. The red, yellow, and black pattern got Mr. Hog Buyer going.
"That's a...that's one of those, uh...lemme see...red touches black...somethin' about Jack."
"When red touches black, you're okay Jack. When red touches yellow, you're a dead fellow. It's a coral snake." I supplied. Anybody could see that the red bands were clearly touching the yellow ones. "Jake, what'd I tell you about messing with these snakes!?"
"Well I wouldn't have killed it, but I was sitting on a log and it crawled out between my legs and I figured better safe than sorry. I penned it with the butt of my rifle and then I used my knife to cut it's head off."
Mrs. Hog Buyer was still standing there with her mouth hanging open and Mr. Hog Buyer was studying Jake from head to toe, taking in the dusty Wranglers, the rodeo T-shirt and the muddy all weather boots.
This was nothing new for me. If it's not a coral snake, it's a pygmy rattler or water moccasin or some other vile slithering creature. We have a policy. If it's venomous and we feel threatened by it, it's a dead snake.
I can't count how many times he has brought home snakes. Some moving, some not. Some, like this one, missing vital parts of their anatomy. He can see snakes where I don't, and has so many different methods for dispatching them to snake heaven that I have lost count.
Mrs. Hog Buyer leaned over and whispered in my ear.
"You don't worry about him getting bitten?"
"Every day! But you can't tell him anything, and so far he has never been bitten and on at least one occasion, he kept me from being bitten. Of course I worry, but if I'm going to let him live the way he wants, it's part of the deal."
I could tell that she was teetering on the brink of making a decision regarding my parenting skills, so I played my ace.
"Look at this way. Sure, there's a risk. But if you think about it, life is just one risk after another. Plummeting down the highway in a vehicle at seventy miles an hour is a risk. Flying in an airplane...riding a motorcycle, or even a bicycle is a risk. Handling a firearm, or a firecracker is a risk. If boys are going to grow up into strong, self-maintaining men, they are going to take risks, whether it's in the woods or on the streets. It's in their nature. As a parent, you take precautions and then you hope for the best. That's all you can do."
"I guess." She was nodding, mulling it over.
My words were brave. Half the time I worry myself sick, but that doesn't change the fact that it was all true. You cannot shield a child from all the risks in life and expect them to grow up and be able to take care of themselves, or know what to do or how to act in a risky situation. Every day that passes I worry, but I know that Jake, at fourteen, is living his life the way he wants, and that's more than can be said for a lot of us grown ups. Risks notwithstanding.
Just a note here.....I have been negotiating with Ted Nugent's office. Looks like I may have a spot in his magazine, 'Adventure Outdoors'. Pretty cool huh? Really nice people. /forums/images/graemlins/grin.gif
