The Wild West

When you move to the Texas Hill Country, you don't have to go out looking for Wild West critters, they come to you.

This well-washed scorpion was still alive when I opened the dishwasher the other morning. Didn't need any coffee after that.



And the six-inch Giant Redheaded Centipede (Scolopendra heros) fell out of Ernest's playbox a day later, for which I'm thankful. The tip-out probably saved Ernest's little pink nose, which he sticks into everything, from a poisonous nip by the centipede's claws.



The critters have a place in these hills. Their kind were on this land when we got here and they'll be here when we're gone.

I just don't want to find them in my bed...