Banner fecking week.
I was not barefoot. -after 6 foot surgeries, I treat my tootsies like the precious gems they are, comparatively to my Hillbilly upbringing
But I was only wearing sandals in the pasture.
It was brushhogged down, too!
Nevertheless, a baby whatzit tagged me, from the width of punctures.
You know it as soon as a venomous snake hits you, boy howdy!
I yelped, jumped in the air and proceeded to hop on my good foot about a metre, then stopped to whip around to see it — already got away.
I’ve been tagged only once before and that was much, much worse. Due to the size, I’m surprised that I didn’t get sicker. Baby copperheads (not saying it was cos it had escaped by the time I recovered enough to think anything other than AIEEEEEE!) we’re taught, are more likely to make you sick and need treatment than adults, higher potency venom. Then again, that could be an old wives’ tale told to make kids more respectful of little ones, even though they’re littler.
Can’t look it up since I’m grounded at work til I don’t know if ever to use a computer for personal, stoopid shite like ‘false baby copperhead more venomous?’
At any rate, MAN did it smart. Still does a bit but I think I didn’t get a huge dose cos it only wept a couple of days.