Nature Equals Danger.

On our second date, Mr. Wonderful and I went for a walk. As we traversed along a trail through woods and along a creek, I told him in no uncertain terms that I Do Not Like Nature.

I then proceeded to point out various birds, plant species and deer trails.

I’ve since come to realize that “I don’t like nature” was my code for “Do not, under any circumstances, expect me to camp.” And that seems to be a truth with which we’re both comfortable.

It still cracks Mr. Wonderful up, however, that I suggested we go hiking in Colorado this summer. We’ve been training … we have hiking shoes and have been exploring various trails around town. We’re in search of great hills to practice on, but have been sidelined a bit with a lazy-ass kneecap, which has decided to veer off course. I now have a knee brace to keep it in line.
Am I a jock or what?

So, last night, we were exploring a new-to-me trail on the edge of town. The trail is blacktop and fairly well-traveled, and provided some serious hills. I’m surprised I’m not sore today.

As we were about 3/4 of a mile from the car, I suddenly levitated off the ground and made the kind of noise that can only be described as “GAAAAAHHHRRRRRRGGGGHHHH!”

A baby copperhead snake crossed the path just as we did … and ended up squarely between my feet. How I avoided being bitten is truly nothing short of a miracle. My spontaneous levitation somehow got me about four feet away from the snake in approximately 0.23 seconds.

We tried to toss sticks in the general direction of the snake to get him off the well-traveled path, but he just stayed there, head up, looking intimidating. We finally left it, figuring the mound of sticks around him would alert passersby.

Only then did it hit me that if I had been bitten, we were 3/4 of a mile from the car and civilization.

Mr. Wonderful said he would have piggybacked me and ran to the car … after beating the snake to death with a rock so that we could take it to the emergency room with us.

I processed this a bit. I could have been riding piggyback on my boyfriend, dead, venomous snake in hand, trying to keep my heart rate down so as not to increase the blood flow to the site of the bite? Are you kidding me?

Why, oh why did people ever settle in areas with snakes? This does not seem like a smart move! Sure, Iowa has deadly tornadoes and 300% of your daily recommended cholesterol in every single meal, but at least we don’t have deadly snakes.

I’m seriously rethinking my life choices here. Pro: Mr. Wonderful wouldn’t have left me for dead. Con: why is that fucking snake getting all up in my grill in the first place?

It’s a dilemma.

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