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Dear Mr. Scorpion

Posted by Susan Stoltz on


 

 

I’ve lived in many places and have encountered many ‘nasty’ but ecologically important species. Living in the desert brings a unique perspective on wildlife, insects, etc. Scorpions are my least favorite… well perhaps they are equal to spiders…. which are right up there with snakes. I digress.

Did you know that scorpions have some super survival skills? When the food supply of insects is low, they can slow down their metabolism and survive on one insect per year! Researchers have frozen scorpions overnight and put them out in the sun the next day and watched them walk away! They’re found on every continent except Antarctica but mostly live in hot, dry deserts. Scientists think that they may have been the first animals to move from water to land way back in prehistoric times. They’re important to the environment for many reasons, the least of which is pest control, as they feed on a variety of insects, the larger ones sometimes feed on rodents!

I read one article that said “If you find a scorpion in your home, put a glass over it, slide a piece of paper under it, and let it go. "That's a lovely idea," said nobody EVER! As for me, I kill them and with great enthusiasm. I’m all for saving species, but I draw the line at aggressive, stinging, spidery, lobstery looking thingys (not a technical term) in my space.

So dear readers, I leave you with this poem.

 Mr. Scorpion
 
Dear Mr. Scorpion
I want you to know,
You weren’t invited
And you must go.
 
I saw you scurry
Under the chair.
You’re in MY house
And not welcome here.
 
I got out the mallet
That’s saved just for you.
It’s big and it’s rubber
And will kill you it’s true.
 
You’re now just a memory
Unrecognizable and dead.
The alternative was grim
Burn the house down instead.

Susan

November 24, 2020

Matt, S is for Susan… too funny!

Matthew Richard Swainston Strangwayes

November 24, 2020

Maybe because I have never been stung, or because my sign is Scorpio, but my first reaction when I see a scorpion is to stare and go “whoaa – cool!”

Love the poem. It hints at “Please Mr. Gravedigger” by David Bowie with a Gashlycrumb Tinies vibe. Remember, “S is for Susan who perished of fits.”

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