Not much makes me stop when I’m running, but I stop for creepy-crawlies.
I went running last week with my daughter and was very surprised to see some creature up ahead in the middle of the road. As we got closer I saw it was a crawfish. Or a crawdad. Or a crawdaddy. Whatever you call it in your part of the world. For me, no matter what you call it, it was a big surprise.
Now, I shouldn’t really be surprised. A lot of the property where we live is a nature conserve. There are grasshoppers bigger than your thumb and more kinds of birds and lizards than I can count. But this was the first time I ran into one of these prehistoric-looking things. I’d seen them in Indiana but this was the first Florida crawfish I’d come across.
We planned to run around this particular bend twice and, sure enough, when we came up to him again he was maybe six inches from where we last saw him. We stopped again and I snapped this picture. I tried to nudge him to the side of the road and he tipped over. My daughter said, in her best crawfish impression, “the sun’s cooking me from the inside!” I righted him and looked up and down the road. At least where we were running there were no houses and virtually no cars. We said good bye to the thing and ran on. I’m hoping the guy made it to wherever he was going.
Hey, they survived this long right?