Wednesday, January 02, 2013

Leaping Lizards

Several years ago (actually about fifteen or maybe eighteen!) our son Don called and asked me if I wanted to go Crawdadding on the following Saturday. “It's Beachcomber Days,” I said, “but I'd rather be catching Crawdads than watching a dumb parade with a few fire engines, log trucks and the 4-H club!”
“Yeah, it's a good day to stay out of town anyway,” he said, “The parades at noon so lets go before the madhouse starts.”
The following Saturday he pulled into our driveway about eleven. “Let's take our pickup,” I said, as we grabbed a couple Crawdad nets and a burlap sack. “The truck needs gas but we can get it upriver at Tidewater.”
We hopped in and headed up Highway 34 towards our destination; the junction of Lobster Creek and Five Rivers. “I hear there are tons of Crawdads there,” Don said, “we should really clean up!”
“Oh oh” I said as we pulled into Tidewater. “The gas station's closed!”
“That means we have to go back to town for gas. Crap!”
“They probably closed so they could go to Waldport for Beachcomber Days,” Don said, looking at his watch. “We'd better hurry or we'll get stopped by the parade.”
When we reached town we could see the ambulances, fire engines, and log trucks all lined up on a side street, waiting to start on their way through town, and we could see that the sidewalks were lined with spectators.
“Good! They haven't started yet, let's gas up and get out of here,” Don said.
There were a few cars ahead of us at the pump and we impatiently waited while they filled up. When we finally got to the pump I told the attendant, “We're in kind of a hurry, we want to get out of here before the parade starts.”
“I think you're too late!” he said. He was right, we could hear the fire trucks and ambulances demonstrating all the siren noises they could make with their WOOP WOOPs and WAH WAHs, a sure sign the world famous Beachcomber Days parade was underway. Our route out of town was blocked so we sat and watched the parade slowly crawl by.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, it ended and we worked our way through the jammed up traffic and got underway again. We made good time to Five Rivers Road and a few minutes later we parked on a wide spot near the junction of Lobster Creek and Five Rivers.
“I can see Crawdads from here!” Don yelled as he piled out of the truck and started unloading our gear. Sure enough, there were Crawdads everywhere, and we waded in after them. Don would lift a rock and I'd hold the net downstream to catch them as they tried to escape. Then we'd chase after the ones we missed, splashing and sliding on the mossy rocks. I was wearing a loose fitting pair of Levis which soon became soaked and waterlogged along with every thing else. I was having a lot of trouble keeping them up they got so heavy. I was stumbling, sliding and splashing along, holding my pants up with one hand, carrying a burlap bag half full of Crawdads and a net in the other when I told Don,”Let's take a break, I'm pooped!”
We waded back down toward the truck, climbed out into the hot sunshine and sat on on a big rock to warm up. “Wow!' I said,”This feels great!” I squatted down on the stream side of the rock, my pants still at half mast with a lot of “plumbers butt” showing. On the other side of the rock I heard Don yell, “Hey Dad, I caught a lizard!” I looked over my shoulder just in time to see it flying though the air as he tossed it to me.
Unfortunately, since I had my back turned, I didn't try to catch it, and it landed perfectly in the crack of my plumbers butt. Being used to hiding in cracks it scrambled deeper. Now, I'm not much of a dancer, but much to Don's amusement I went through my whole repertoire. Starting with the River Dance, followed with lively versions of the Bunny Hop and the Funky Chicken, then some steps I made up on the spot.
Don was laughing so hard he was crying when I finally pulled the little guy out of my pants, his claws digging in all the way. I frantically tossed him out into the river and the last I saw he was swimming for the far bank, no doubt to find another crack to hide in.
We caught a lot of Crawdads and had a lot of laughs. It was a good trip.

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