Saturday, October 10, 2009

Booger or Snipe?

(Written by Will Blair, originally appearing in the Newnan Times-Herald on June 4, 2001)

Fate found me in a compromising position in the woods last week, and she had to have laughed.
It was nighttime and the half-moon half lit the evening sky. I had been traveling by country roads when it hit me that I needed to stop somewhere quickly. I won't supply the details but, needless to say, when you gotta go...
A gas station wasn't available, and I've always felt comfortable in the great outdoors.
I parked my truck roadside and tripped my way deep -- way deep -- into the brush, as I am fairly private about such matters. It was moments into the fact that I heard and briefly saw something startling.
Prepare yourself, but I think it was a snipe. Yeah, I know, snipes are mythical creatures, created by generations upon generations of hunters to initiate apprentice hunters into the ranks and to create laughing stocks out of those who know little of the outdoors. But myths are rooted in some form of reality and a snipe, like mythology, comes in many forms. It's a shape-shifter, as witnessed by millions of gun-toting types. Some hunters, depending on the level of alcohol in their blood at a campsite on the night before a good hunting, speak of the snipe's sharp teeth and powerful tail, which is used for striking. Others articulate about the creature's great speed. Following many years of storytelling, a snipe can weigh anywhere from 10 pounds to 1,500 pounds. It can lope around on four feet, or it can travel upright on two. Some snipes have pouches to carry their young, and some have trunks that drag across the ground. Others can shoot flames from their gnarled claws.
Years ago, at a zoo in Washington D.C. , I was in awe of a white tiger. It was much more massive than your average tiger. When it breathed, as it sucked oxygen into its massive, heaving lungs, you could feel the atmosphere shift.
On this night, as I was concluding my stop in the woods, I similarly felt the wind shift suddenly (no pun intended). Something powerful was present. I heard breathing. Dry, throaty breathing -- and it wasn't lovebirds.
I turned and spotted a shadow moving among the bushes. It didn't appear to be a bear, nor was it a raccoon or any other traditional nighttime creature. And no, it wasn't the Blair Witch, the Belk Road Booger or Izzy the Whatizit (but it might have been blue, which would explain its difficulty with breathing). I couldn't tell precisely how it traveled, but it moved both gracefully and awkwardly at the same time. Or should I say it ambled, with an awkward grace.
I thought I counted six legs and two heads. If I'm not mistaken, its eyes glowed and liquid fire dripped from what could have been a snout. But by the time I got a good bead on it, it had discovered me, shrieked, and galloped-hopped-scurried in the other direction. With an awkward grace.
As much as my curiosity was perked, its banshee cry encouraged me to conclude my visit. Calmly, of course. Today, my memory only serves to try to identify a shadow of sorts, with super-heated snot. Again though, it appeared to have six legs and two heads. Or was it six heads and two legs? I've looked through all kinds of books on mammals, reptiles and Boris Vallejo paintings to try to identify it. No luck. Therefore, it must be a snipe.
Laugh if you will, but I plan on returning to that spot in the woods and await the return of the beast, even if it takes all night. I'll take my camera and my .22 with me, and I'll prove all those stories true. The joke will be on all those who thought the mysterious snipe merely a rumor.
I wonder if it really tastes like chicken.

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