Everyone I've told about That Bear says "Don't worry, that bear is not interested in you." But how do I know that I'm not a bear magnet?
Because I am undoubtedly a crayfish magnet. This is fact. In 2003, I was running when I saw something in the middle of the road. I get closer and see it's a lobster. No, that's not right, I think, how could a lobster get out here? The ocean is an hour away. I circle the thing and whooo, he's serious! He is actually coming towards me, he is, claws up, wavin'.
"You wanna go, I'll go!" he's saying.
Eventually I determine this is not a lobster, but a crayfish. On the road. No water around to speak of. What the fuck? I ran away from him, that bastard.
A day later, I'm doing some Googling and learn in a town about a half hour away, some freakish tornado-ey weather condition dropped a whole bunch of crayfish down out of the sky! Still, explain to me how'd this little bastard get out to my town -- all by hisself, hmmm? I'll tell you how. Because, one, he was a bastard and, two, he wanted to kill me and three, I am obviously a crayfish magnet! So don't you be telling me no bear isn't out to eat me. Not until you've ran a mile in my sneakers with a crayfish clickin' at your ankles.
This experience inspired me to create a series of poorly drawn cartoons. Here's one:Fast forward to 2006, new house, new town: I am out in the backyard with my 7-year old son and dog, Carter. The night before, we'd had some strange weather with lots of heavy rain, thunderstorms and even a few tornado sightings. Carter was enjoying being outside after the bad weather, rolling around in the wet grass and such.
Our backyard just under an acre. Crayfish (while lethal!) move slowly on land when traversing through longish grass. Despite the largeness of the backyard, despite the longish grass, despite the minimal movement, suddenly I spy trickery approximately ten feet from where Carter and I are playing.
At first sighting, it appeared as if a large slug, a substantial insect or a very thin mole was on the make. A person without my traumatic history would likely have thought "What is that?"
I, however, had no such thought.
I knew instantly what wickedness this way came.
All that weird weather we'd had.
With no surprise whatsoever I whispered: "Crayfish."
Then: "Bastard."
The very last thing I wanted was for Carter to catch sight of this bastard. Absolutely nothing good would have come of that, I promise you. While my son brought him inside, I kept my eyes on You Know Who.
After getting Carter to safety, my son and I pondered what to do next.
"CAMERA!" I shrieked. "No one is going to believe this!"
I began snapping pictures. At first, I was frightened and kept my distance, using only the zoom feature for close ups. Emboldened by his lack of attack, I drew nearer:
"I don't like him!" said my son. "Call animal control!"
But I know I am on my own here. Help will not be on the way. This shit has been predestined in the stars.
This is between me and him.
"Watch him!" I said to my son "I gotta call Helen."
Helen is a friend who knows all about my previous crayfish experience. She is one of the friends who received the above cartoons. She also knows all about creepy individuals with obsessive and potentially violent tendencies.
"He found you?" says Helen. "You better get a restraining order."
She was right, of course. But no piece of paper would scare this bastard off. This guy had a bone to pick with me and he was going to pick it.
Thing is, so did I have a bone to pick! Finding me 3 years later, clear in the next town! By this time, approximately ten minutes had passed and the bastard had yet to make his move. Rather than stand and fight, he continued merely globbering his way over the grass, perhaps pretending he hadn't noticed me.
For a moment, I doubted myself.
Where was the "Up in my shit" fighting stance?
The claws in the air, like he just didn't care?
Where was the preening, angry little bastard of yore?
I could stand the doubt and tension no longer.
I picked up a stick.
I apologize for the shaky footage you are about to see. The whole thing was very Blair Witch terrifying and I was unable to keep the camera focused on that bastard the whole time:
("All up in mah ... craw?" Who knows? With my son around, I guess was making an attempt to keep the expletives to a minimum, grabbing at noun-straws in my terror. You'll note, I failed to keep my language PG once he gets going.)
Though frightened, I stood my ground.
For about 20 minutes, the bastard and I sized each other up.
Things clicked and snapped.
Eventually, weary to the bone, I holstered my camera, got my dog and my son and retreated to the safety of the house. Last time I saw that bastard, he was moseyin' toward the marsh.
He could be anywhere right now.
Anywhere at all.
You didn't think I'd let ya'll off without a message from Bastante Kim of Assisi did you? True, the crayfish creeped me out, especially when he got in his fighting stance. A crayfish is not that far removed in appearance from a large, hard spider with claws and I am most definitely afraid of any spider larger than a nickel. It's true also, I don't kill anything except parasites and the occasional spider if I can't lure it outside.
But, had I been a person of the "It's ugly and scary, quick, kill it!" variety who also possessed a strong stomach for stomping things, Crayfish would have been stomped to death within five minutes.
Instead, I watched him and eventually pondered ways to get him to water. We did try coaxing him into a small fish tank. He wasn't having any of that. The first few times we placed the fish tank in his path, he got into that fighting stance. When I tried coming at him from above, however, the poor thing shrank all up in fear. He retracted his claws and tried to make himself as small as possible, indeed appearing to be trying to burrow hind-end first into the ground.
In this moment, he went from little but still pretty fucking scary to Oh Poor Baby.
Poor thing.
Trying to defend himself from me, a creature ever so much bigger and stronger, the only way he knew how.
With his little posture and tiny claws.
We left him alone, saying a little prayer that he find his way to water, safety and other crayfish. Much as I'd have liked to, I just could NOT bring myself to pick him up in order to carry him to a water source myself.
