Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Hillarys’ Armadillo Ordeal


Hillary was not much older than Erin (9) when this happened, and she really wanted to go see some deer. Her father, Paul (the clueless, thoughtless, selfish lawyer), said that he would be glad to take her and put her on a stand that afternoon. She was excited and got dressed.
Paul loaded her on the 4-wheeler and took her across the property to a stand called the Bird Point. A nice field seldom hunted that was perfect for watching deer. He helped her up in her stand and told her that he would be back at dark to get her. She settled in.
Everything is perfect you think. Hillary is having a good time enjoying the nice afternoon, she sees a couple of deer, and everything is great! Then the sun starts going down.
Paul is a deer machine and when he goes to his stand he is going to stay there till the very last second. He even bought super duper binoculars that gives him an extra 30-40 minutes. So what if some kid he hardly knows has to stay in the woods by themselves (for the first time) for an extra hour or so after pitch dark. He is trying to kill a deer.
The sun went down and it got quiet, then faint rustlings began in the grass. Did her father make sure she had a flashlight? Hell No! It was dark, and the last of her vision picked up movement as an awful looking predatory saber-toothed armadillo moved into the field. A horrible looking creature! Surely a cannibalistic killer! Not a sound in the darkness as she prayed for her father to hurry. Another one of the ferocious beast eased out in front of her as the pale moon came out. Yikes, there might be hundreds of the things, it was time to get the hell out of Dodge! She scampered from the tree and took off through the darkness, praying her father would pick her up. Had he forgotten her? It was about a mile or so back to camp and she followed the old road as best she could while terrified and crying from every sound in the woods that were probably more fanged beasts. She did not stop for anything. She made it into camp alive and shell-shocked as we waited supper for them.
Hillary came in the door exhausted, crying and totally upset. After questions of what happened, you could see her Mothers’ eyes kind of squint and a red glow began to burn in them. Paul should of stayed in the woods that night cause all hell broke loose when he came in about 15 minutes later.
Needless to say, a man-eating armadillo is one thing, but a ferocious mama Wanda is a whole lot worse.

8 comments:

GUYK said...

Now that wuz just wrong to do a kid that way...should have left her a gun and a flashlight

Editor said...

What do you expect from a lawyer?

Kristine said...

Poor kid. It is easy to get scared at night when you don't know the terrain. I would probably have run if I saw an armadillo too.

I'm just glad she got back all right. If she was scared she might have easily wandered off the road.

Phillip said...

Another award-worthy tale from the Christmas Place!

Loved it!

But yeah... even if he is a lawyer, I feel a little sorry for Paul on his return to camp that night.

Callie said...

HAHAHAA...

Now THAT was classic. Bless her heart.. and shame on the lawyer. she should sue.*winks

callie

Kevin Paulson said...

Another great classic story from the word smith. I was laughing so hard tears ran down my face. Never mess with kids or their mothers. Kids bark and cry, mothers get even!!!

Michelle Rene said...

THe girl must've got her smarts from her mother! A lot of kids might have panicked and, like Kristine said, got lost in the woods.

Big Al said...

Armadillo's are nothing to play with, I was almost killed by one once. No lie.

My wife, daughter, and I had just moved to the country... both of us having grown up city folks, My wife in Shreveport, myself in Tallulah, La. Not quite settled in the ways of country life, we were somewhat skiddish, to say the least.

One night, after we had gone to bed, I heard a noise coming from somewhere outside... and about just then the dog cut loose. Fully awake, I grabbed my trusty .45 off of the night stand (can't be too careful you know, out in the wild like we were) and I crept slowly toward the front of the house.

Whatever it was I could tell was in the garage... the dog seemed to have it bayed there. Here I was, never mind I was dressed only in a too small pair of boxer shorts, slowly creeping through the kitchen, ever so slowly with gun in hand, and easing to the kitchen door. I stood and listened for any human sounds that might tip me as to how many assailants I was about to face. I heard nothing but barking and growling from outside the door.

Ever so slowly, I opened the door and peeked out into the garage. Seeing nothing I ever so slowly opened the screen door, poked my head out and glanced around. Whatever it was, or WHOever it was, couldn't be seen... just the dogs, growling and barking at something that had to be there.

With gun at the ready, I slowly stepped out side... and planted my foot firmly onto the back of a now overly excited armadillo.

Do you know just how fast an armadillo can move? Well, I can't give you an exact figure, but let me just say it's at least 10 times whatever it is you think it is... and he did.

I rode said armidillo for the full .08 seconds that seemed to be an eternity. It's an experiance Disney only wishes it could capture, I asure you. Contrary to phyical law, his mad dash farward also seemed to toss me well up into the air, spin me around, and deposit me upon my tiller, which I had stored out of the way there.

I was vertually impailed ontop of the implement, feet now up by the handlebar, one arm neatly woven among the curves of the tines, with the spark plug firmly planted in my back! Worse than that, a hysterical wife!

Hysterical, not out of any fear of my emminant demise, or at least serious need for expert medical attention... no, just laughing hysterically at the sad sight laying there before her eyes. Ahhh, love! Ain't it grand...

Anyway, It was two days before I could drag myself out of bed, and the better part of a week before I could return to work, ...and I was stove up for at least a month or more... pierced back, cuts up the arm, several brused ribs, a twisted spine, twisted ankle, skint knee (? go figure), ...and a damaged and almost irrepairable ego.

I hate those dastardly creatures! I hate them, I hate them, I hate them... The look so..., so funny looking, yet they are deadly I tell you. Deadly.

-Al

P.S. Every last work of the above is true. When I've got more time I'll tell you about the big eyed monster that I found in my den...true story too.

Anyway, I do enjoy your blog... very enjoyable stuff!