On the banks of the Navarro River
Navarro State Park
July 7, 2004
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Wading in the shallows, I spotted the remains of a not-long-dead
crawfish, the tail of a tiny lobster-looking thing that had lost its claws
to some predator. "Look!" I pointed the girls to it. "A dead crawdad."
"Are you sure it's dead?" asked Ellie.
"Pretty sure ... " I said, creeping closer. "It's not
moving." I reached into the water, towards the lifeless tail,
and then, on an evil boyish whim, thrust my arm forward,
as if it were being yanked by the powerful jaws of a hungry
sea monster, and began to wail and thrash in the muddy river.
Then there were high-pitched screams, skinny little legs splashing
towards the pebbly beach, and the hearty chuckles of a
dad on vacation.