Flash-light to the rescue...

Heaven help me with the creatures and critters out here on this property after the sun goes down...

I had Savannah out in the grass by the back porch last night... her leash in my left hand, a flash-light in my right hand.  Not that we don't have outside lights there--- both porch lights were turned on for that side of the house, but still, the flash-light comes in handy for up-close peeking under the bushes. Just in case anything happens to be there... I don't like surprises of the critter kind.

And that is exactly what I was doing... using the flash-light to look underneath the bushes that Savannah was directly in front of.  So intent was I on that side of the courtyard that I neglected to look on the other side of the courtyard. Silly me. I should know better by now. Especially since this was not the first time this week that I nearly stepped on an armadillo.

As I think of that moment right this minute, I'm wondering why I didn't scream into the night and then run back up the stairs with Savannah. Right there, not three inches from my foot, was an armadillo. A good-sized one, not a baby, not a medium-sized armadillo, but one that could have given Mickey Kitty a ride if I'd put a saddle on that blasted thing.

Armadillos are not the smartest creatures that were ever created, and when the armadillo saw me so close in front of him, he did what he knew how to do best: he froze in his spot, not moving, possibly pretending to be a rock. I tried to shoo him away, literally saying "Shoo! Shoo!" (proof positive that this country life is getting to me from the inside out).  The armadillo just ignored me, and continued to stand there with his eyes glued to the ground, along with his four feet. Savannah was still in the grass, just watching this four-legged silver rock standing near my foot.

What to do... what to do.  Ah... the flash-light.  I took that flash-light and bopped that armadillo right on its backside near its tail. And off he went, Hi-Ho Silver, into the night he ran, and I hope he's still running. I have to admit that his silvery shell was indeed very hard and the flash-light seemed to bounce off of him, and there's no doubt in my mind that I scared that animal more than I hurt him. And hurting him was not my intention... getting him away from me was my goal and the flash-light just happened to be the correct tool at the moment. Actually, the only tool at that particular moment.

I can see it now... I'll be an old old woman, out in the yard with a flash-light, surrounded by three thousand armadillos wanting (demanding) to know why I assaulted their great-great-great-great grandfather.  (That sentence is more proof positive that this country life is getting to me.)