Critter Keeper

As is our custom before a busy summer, this week our immediate family is at the beach. We got here on Saturday, arriving at a nice place with an adequate number of bedrooms, a kitchen that could have been larger, a game room, a golf cart, a salt water pool, and a whirlpool bath. Oh, and an inclined driveway apparently violently interrupted by the New Madrid Fault Line in the recent past, with K2 rising out of the subterranean depths.

I’ll risk my geographical credibility with a little hyperbole, but I trust you get the picture. I just feel I have a responsibility to inform everyone why, during my public shows beginning with Pickens County libraries next week, your friendly neighborhood Critter Keeper may not be performing at 100%.

My wife and I arrived at the house a little before four pm, shortly after our children and grandchildren arrived. After a quick tour of the house, I set about unloading the car.

I had brought a folding wheeled cart to carry in games and other smaller items, so as to avoid making unnecessary additional trips. As I checked the back seat, I heard a slight, unfamiliar, crunching sound coming from outside the rear hatch of the vehicle. It sounded suspiciously like an almost fully loaded folding cart - one that had just started a rather rapid descent down the aforementioned inclined driveway toward the street.

Despite my advanced age, I like to believe that I have reflexes like a cat. Unfortunately, my athletic prowess to go with said reflexes may have called it a day a couple of decades ago. As I ran down the driveway, I failed to clear Mount Kilimanjaro there in the driveway - assuming I even saw it - and I took my last additional unnecessary trip of the day.

Folks, at this point in the story, I would love to regale you with a highly detailed, creative slow-motion account of the next several seconds. But words fail me.

I did the most epic high-speed face plant - pardon the exaggeration; it was at moderate speed, because I’m old - onto broken concrete. So yeah, right side of my face. Among other places, as you’re soon to read about.

Ugh. I’m laying on this concrete, feeling like I just got punched in the face, but thinking through a slightly dazed state, “That could have been bad.”

I looked toward the cart, which was just now stopping partway in the street. That confirmed, for me at least, that I didn’t lose consciousness. I thought about calling for help, but I knew I wouldn’t be heard.

I brought myself to my feet, and began limping down to get the cart. My nose is bleeding, and now my Apple watch is trying to get my attention by telling me, “It looks like you’ve taken a hard fall.”

“I’m painfully aware,” I mutter, as the blood from my face begins falling onto the concrete. I need to shut that watch off because I don’t want it to call anybody, and I’m trying to press the right button while trying to stop the blood that is pouring out of my nose, avoiding (for now) dripping onto my clothes. I retrieve the cart, using my left hand, because now my right arm is not quite as useful as it was a few minutes ago.

With the cart now on level terrain, I make my way to the bathroom on the ground floor. I almost ran into Evelyne, my youngest granddaughter, as she was coming out of the house.

I don’t remember saying anything to Eve, nor her to me, such was my rush to get to the bathroom sink. I vaguely remember hearing her quick footfalls running up the wooden steps to the main level where the rest of the family was catching up.

Eve, who is typically non-plussed and matter-of-fact, gained everyone’s attention by announcing, “Grandad’s hurt,” followed by “There’s a LOT of blood.”

My wife and daughters found me desperately trying to stanch the blood flow while simultaneously trying to keep the bathroom from looking like an ID Channel crime scene. I could see I was failing on both counts. I was surprised to see in the mirror that there were no lacerations or serious scrapes on my face. Thankfully, I wasn’t wearing my eyeglasses. My nose was bigger than usual, and my rugged good looks were conspicuously more rugged. I finally got my left nostril plugged and was told to not worry about the bathroom.

I explained what had happened, and we found ourselves playing Twenty Questions, with queries like “What day is it?” and “Who’s the President?” Nobody let me ask questions.

When I was asked what hurt the worst, there was no question in my mind. My right shoulder was now very painful, with limited range of motion.

What you just read was a long method of telling you that less than an hour after arriving at the beach for a week-long stay, I was on my way to the Emergency Room.

As my wife was backing over El Capitan in the driveway, I asked her to stop. I got out, opening the passenger door with my left hand. I got a good look at all the blood on the coarse surface of the driveway, but I had found what I was looking for. It must have fallen off of me when I impacted the concrete. I reached down and picked it up.

It was my sense of humor. I never leave home without it.
………………..

The ER was not busy, and we were seen right away. X-rays of my shoulder were taken and revealed no sign of fractures or tears, and I was told that the pain in my shoulder was caused by arthritis and bursitis. “It happens to everyone when they get older.” I was too kind not to remark I was more persuaded that THIS inflammation in my joint and bursae was caused by a high dive off of Denali, and that age had nothing to do with it. Plus, I would probably need an MRI to detect any tears.

I’m pleased to report that everything above my eyebrows and below my knees remained unscathed. A black eye and bruised nose might be the first thing you noticed if you saw me right now. Scrapes and bruises abound on my hands, arms, and the ones on my knees have not been that impressive since I was seven years old.

My biggest original complaint was my shoulder, but it’s coming along already with mild exercises, cold packs, red light therapy, hot tub/whirlpool bath therapy, and prescribed antinflammatory medication. But beyond that, I also have a bruised rib. That bruise looks like I was hit by a rubber bullet, and boy, when I cough or sneeze or laugh or try to roll over in bed, it makes me regret any braggadocio I’ve ever uttered about a “high pain tolerance.”

Today, on Tuesday, I had an early morning appointment at an ortho clinic. We had considered canceling it, but thought it might be wise to keep it, to at least grease skids for any referrals after we get home. While my range of motion is better, and the pain level in the shoulder is much less, they were of the opinion that there “may” be a small tear in the rotator cuff. There’s not a lot that can be done for a bruised rib. I was given a wide elastic band that at the very least, it could be used to bind the red light pad to my body to treat the rib.

We had waited until the day after the ER visit - Sunday - to go pick up the prescribed meds after watching our church service on YouTube. While on our way back, our daughter called us to pick up some vinegar. Eve had been stung by a jellyfish. She was on a boogie board, and was stung on the face and shoulder.

Later, while I was talking with Eve, we determined that the species of jellyfish she was stung by was most likely a sea nettle, since her sting markings were actually gone less than a half hour after being stung. I taught her about nematocysts, and how jellyfish kill and eat their food, and how it’s just an accident; people get stung when we swim or bob into the tentacles. Then I felt the need to explain why vinegar (an acid) neutralizes some superficial envenomations, that have alkaline properties, which led me to talk about how important pH is. Once her eyes began to glass over, I paraphrased “Lonesome Dove’s” Captain Augustus McCrae by saying, “Listen. Some of the best education you’ll ever get is just listening to Grandad talk.”

Then, after today’s ortho visit, I was resting on the couch with a book, and Avery comes running in.

“Grandad! There’s a snake in the pool!”

I’m thinking it’s just a garter, water, or brown snake, but the dimensions Avery was describing was maybe 18 inches in length.

“It’s really shiny,” she said, “and it glimmers.”

I’m struggling to get up with my side hurting so, but I asked, “Are you sure it’s a snake?”

“Yes.”

We got to the pool, where my son-in-law was waiting with the pool net, and he held it out so I could see it.

I looked in the net, and immediately said, “Well, it’s not a snake.”

Avery gave me an annoyed look.

I reached into the net and pulled out a stunningly beautiful Eastern Glass Lizard.

I explained that while the glass lizard appears snakelike, it has eyelids, external ear openings, and inflexible jaws. I was proud of Avery for not exaggerating the lizard’s size. Plus, the tail was totally intact, having never been broken off and regenerated.

I’m still debating whether to bring the little guy home with me. I may release him. He’s currently residing in one of the metal tins we used for a seafood boil the night before.

So, that catches you up on my first few days of vacation. We’re just down here making memories with critters and good food and injuries and physical therapy.

God is good. Seriously.

Getting the viper boa turned out to be more challenging and frustrating than I anticipated, but he/she is safely ensconced in its new enclosure, and that’s more than I expected mere hours ago.

The company I ordered from - I just couldn’t get them to communicate with me. They wouldn’t reply to my emails, pick up their phone, and of course, their voicemail was full. I had no order confirmation and no tracking number. So this morning I inquired with my bank, and the amount I paid was “pending.”

I may have over-reacted. I emailed them again, instructing them to cancel the order, then decided to call the bank back to put a hold on the purchase, and checked back with Underground Reptiles, who had exceeded my expectations the day before. I was stunned to see viper boas now available. So I ordered one, to be delivered tomorrow.

Pleased, I sat down and sent off a 5-star review for UGR, whose customer service and communication I have always found to be exemplary.

I was piddling in my garage when my wife entered, carrying a box conspicuously labeled with “Live Animals” and “Perishable.” She was not carrying it with the same level of apparent trepidation observed in the FedEx driver yesterday.

Inside the box was a viper boa and a young male knight anole, which I had added to my order.

So, now I had to cancel my order to UGR, which was easy enough to do, since they actually respond to phone calls and other customer inquiries.

Then, after settling the boa and anole in their new enclosures, it was off to send yet another email off to the company, letting them know that I had received the animals, that I was satisfied with the animals, but I may have continued in a strongly worded diatribe on the importance of communication.

So yes, I received the viper boa, as well as a young male knight anole. But why did I need a viper boa so badly?

Well, that’s to be continued in a post I intend to write over the next few days, that surprisingly, is actually controversial in some circles.

Stay tuned.

Some new animals are ordered and on their way; some tomorrow and a couple on Thursday, totaling an even dozen. I’m particularly excited about one of them - a critter I’ve never kept before. More about those later - if not in this post, then in one tomorrow or when they arrive.

A full quarter of that dozen are tailless whipscorpions, since a three-pack of those cool little dudes and dudettes were hard for me to pass up. Most others are duplicate arthropods that I felt I just had to have.

I should at this point explain that my orders were placed with companies that I’ve used before, and have proven themselves to be reliable.

I’ve been on the hunt for an Australian frilled lizard, and I thought I had found one at a decent price. As I continued to shop on this site (that I’ve never ordered from before) I discovered Gila monsters - an animal usually priced at over $1,000 - for a quarter of that.

I’m whipping out my debit card.

Meanwhile, I’m chatting with what is supposed to be a customer service representative, and I’m getting very brief, non-specific replies. Then, I’m preparing to enter my credit card, and then to my surprise, they don’t take credit or debit cards. I pumped my brakes once, and screeched to a sudden stop. They take Venmo, Zelle, and everything up to and including BitCoin.

My experience with BitCoin is tossing two bits into a jar on my desk, but I’m seeing too many red flags. Underpriced animals, a sketchy CSR, and now no credit cards. A little quick research confirmed my suspicions. Apparently there are some sites that offer animals at cheap prices and then require more money once the animal is “in transit,” while the customer is left wondering where the animal (and the money) is off to. Credit cards are more likely to prevent fraud. So I may have dodged a bullet there. Let the buyer beware. There’s a lot of folks out there that put more effort into scamming others than it would take to legitimately earn honest money.

In one of the photos I posted, you’ll see one of my favorite people (Evelyne, one of my granddaughters, taken several years ago) all enamored with a large tree frog - one with parachute-like feet - that is commonly called a “flying frog.” The black-webbed flying frog headed my way is way more colorful, as shown in the stock image.

And I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of a viper boa, but one of those is allegedly on its way as well, arriving on Thursday, barring any logistical problems from the other end. Viper boas are a non-venomous mimic of the death adder, can be a little pugnacious, and have been on the periphery of my radar screen for a while.

I’m taking a risk counting my chicks before they’ve hatched, or my animals before they’re delivered, but we’ll see what happens!