Creepy, crawling critters

​A lifetime of critters I never asked to meet

Every place I’ve lived has left its mark on me — not just through people or memories, but through the creatures that decided to share the landscape. Some stayed politely outdoors, others crossed the line entirely, but all of them became part of the story whether I wanted them to or not.

Hartford – A snake in the grass

There's probably nothing I hate more than snakes. Hartford was our introduction to garter snakes, and they made themselves known right away. The west side of town must have been prime real estate for them, because they showed up in the yard, under the deck, and anywhere the sun hit just right. Mowing the lawn became a cautious, zig‑zagging operation. The smart ones scrambled to avoid my sharp mower blades. I never warmed up to them, but I learned to barely tolerate them.

Parkston – More snakes in the grass

When we moved to Parkston years later, I discovered the snakes had already taken up residence there. They turned up around the garden, beside the neighbor’s garage, and sunning themselves at the base of the house like they were posing for a calendar. Once again I tolerated them only because they stayed outside. Had one ever come into the basement, I might have handed over the deed and walked away.

Branson – Scorpions in my boxes?

Branson gave me my first exposure to scorpions. Three of them — all small, all dead — in our storage unit. I never saw a live one, and that’s exactly the number of live scorpions I prefer to encounter. Still, it was enough to make me open every box with the caution of a man defusing a bomb.

Fort Bliss – Tarantulas: Come out, come out, wherever you are

Fort Bliss introduced me to tarantulas, which appeared after desert rainstorms like slow, hairy tumbleweeds. They never bothered us; they were more a curiosity than anything, but seeing one amble across the pavement was enough to make you rethink your life choices. I gave them space, and they returned the favor.

Mississippi Gulf Coast — Respect the ’gators and enjoy the turtle races

Mississippi brought bigger wildlife. Alligators were common enough that you learned to keep a respectful distance. A four-footer was snagged from the pond outside our apartment complex, the same pool where we would throw bread along the shore and watch the box turtles race to get the crumbs.

Rows of genuine alligator heads are for sale at this shop in St. Augustine, Florida. Like any good tourist, I brought one home with me

Unwelcome Guests

Then there were the ones that crossed the line

Outdoor critters are one thing. You see them, you nod politely, you go your separate ways. But every so often, a creature decides to cross the threshold and make itself at home. These are the ones that earned a special category.

🪳 The Fort Bliss Couch Climber

One day in our government‑issued apartment, I spotted a cockroach running up the closet wall. I mentioned it to Barbara, mostly as a “keep an eye out” warning since he was fast and I couldn’t locate him. Later that day, as she sat on the couch, Mr. Cockroach climbed right up the armrest like it wanted to join her. She didn’t scream. She didn’t call for backup. She grabbed a shoe and ended the situation with one clean swing. Problem solved. Marriage strengthened.

🦇 Alexandria Herald – Bats in our belfry

At the newspaper office in Alexandria, we had bats congregating above the false ceiling. Ours was a two‑story concrete block building that clearly needed some patching. We heard their high‑pitched screech upstairs where we lived. Every so often, one would show up in the newsroom like an uninvited intern looking for assignments. We found one hanging in the pantry. I once tried to swat one away with a tennis racket — not my finest hour, but memorable. The kids still talk about the “bat era” of the Herald, which tells you how often those little visitors made themselves known. And then in Branson one showed up, taking up residence above our door. Needless to say, immediately after that we added an entryway to combat the intruder.

🐀 The Mississippi Gray Blur

When we moved into a cheaper apartment in Mississippi — as I was nearing retirement and we looked to “save a few bucks” in our final months there — we lasted about two days. Sitting in the living room, I saw a gray blur streak toward the kitchen. A rat. That was all it took. We grabbed Barbara’s daughter’s poodle (Louie), evacuated to a hotel, and moved out the next morning. Some decisions don’t require discussion.

Closing Rejoinder

So that’s my lifetime roster of critters. Some slithered, some skittered, some flew, and one even tried to join Barbara on the couch. I didn’t invite any of them — but they sure made the journey memorable.