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The lobster-dad.
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"Lobster-dad"

My love of the outdoors started when I was just a little boy. My folks gave me a giant backyard to play in; it even had a little creek beyond the border of the fence. In that creek I would try and catch frogs and crawdads, and on occasions a box or snapping turtle, I didn't know which was which back then so I gave both plenty of respect. When I got old enough to leave the yard, it was the creek that I would find myself following. Momma knew this and bought me a knew pair of rubber boots, I had already ruined a good pair of tennis shoes and she figured that I could get these dirty and they could just be washed off.

I would follow that creek as far as a Saturday would take me. Back then parents would let their children outdoors to explore and breath fresh air, they weren't as scared about children being stolen. My dad tells me now that back then children were lots uglier and no one really wanted to steal any ugly kids.

Anyway, it was getting late one Saturday afternoon, I was getting hungry and thirsty. The Army surplus canteen I carried had dried up about an hour before, but I wanted one more minute at the little waterfall. It wasn't but three or four feet from top to bottom, but it sure made a pretty sound.

As I was watching the water cascade down, rippling the surface of the pool below it, on a rock on the far side I saw a crawdad the size of a lobster! And he was crawling back into the water. I couldn't believe what I was seeing, maybe he was coming home from a vacation he took at the sea! Now I know you think I'm telling you a story here, but it's the truth!

It saw me as it went into the water, it raised itself up and clicked it's claws together, then he went back down onto the creek bed and scurried away backwards with the slow current of the creek.

For a 12 year old boy I was stunned-like the kiss from a cute little girl-and I knew if I didn't catch that lobster-dad, no one was going to believe me. Nobody usually believed me anyway, because of the stories I would tell, even though the stories were mostly true. Well this time I was going to get my proof!

I jumped down over the waterfall making a huge splash, getting water down inside my knew rubbers, chasing after the daddy of all crawdads! After I landed and the water cleared enough for me to see, I watched it take off under a pile of stones. It was a good try on his part, but I could move those rocks.

By the time I lifted the last rock I knew I should be seeing him, that was when I saw the hole and heard the click-click. I looked up and about fifteen feet away there he was. I chased after him and he went under. I followed fast and he sunk under some more rocks. His tail wasn't tucked under him this time and right before he was all the way in I grabbed it, but his tail was slimy and I couldn't hold on to him and let go. this time the rock he went under was bigger. I tried and tried, pulling up on the rock, but all I was doing was getting my feet deeper and deeper into the clay mud. It only took a second to realize that the mud had my boots suctioned in, now instead of trying to pull up on the rock I was trying to pull up on my legs.

That was when I heard the click-click of the pinchers coming from behind me. I turned around as best I could without falling over and in.

The monstrous crawdad was up out of the water again, waving it's claw at me, like my momma waves her finger at me when I'm up to no good.

I knew I was in a pickle.

It pinched me quick as a flash and I came up out the water and out of my new rubber boots that were suctioned to the bottom of the creek. I hit the ground running and didn't stop until I came across a field of wildflowers near home. I figured I better stop and pick momma some to ease the spanking I was going to get for the lie I was going to have to come up with as to how I lost my boots.

Click – Click!

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