Men like to kill things. It doesn’t matter if they’re anti-guns and never went hunting; killing is inherent to their nature.
Remember the last time a fly dared to invade your man’s castle? My husband, RJ, holds the swatter like he’s the last batter in a tie game in the bottom of the ninth in the World Series. It takes me one well timed smack to kill a fly but he hits it so hard the fly’s guts are smeared on the glass. I told him it’s not a fly whacker.
Have you ever seen a man prepare to attack a wasp or hornet’s nest with a can of Raid that shoots twenty-five feet? I guarantee there was a glint in his eye and bounce in his step as he went to battle. If there were other men in the vicinity, they went with him for the exciting possibility of a hornet attack. The men probably knocked down the nest and admired the conquest. Some may have kept the nest to show to their kids and grandkids and others kept the trophy in the garage until it fell apart and disintegrated ten years later.
Ever notice how when a man steps on a spider or beetle, he stomps on it and grounds it with his heel several times like he’s putting out a cigarette? Apparently he needs to make sure it’s dead and it’s dead, as if his weight wasn’t enough to crush the little, bitty, teensy, weensy insect in the first place.
When a man checks a mouse trap, he looks disappointed when it’s empty. A woman looks relieved.
When a boy baits a hook, he stabs it through the worm so many times; parts of the bi-bisected worm fall off before the hook hits the water. A girl brave enough to bait the hook skewers the worm one or two times.
The summer before last, RJ “accidently” killed an armadillo. He swears he never killed anything in his life prior to the armadillo. (Never mind the other pests and varmints.) The accident occurred when he returned home from his evening show and found an armadillo scuttling about the driveway.
RJ states he got the broom to “shoo him away” but bopped him in the forehead when the armadillo was backed into a corner by the garage and retaining wall. “I must have got him in a soft spot or something.”
It took the armadillo a long time to die. (To be honest, RJ did seem a bit traumatized by all the blood and the armadillo's crazed jumping about.)
He states the mercy killing, “Was necessary to put him out of his misery.”
I was upset with my husband for five hours—that’s how long it took for a new armadillo to come along and destroy our garden. If another armadillo dies in our yard this summer, I hope it’s swift and painless. That’ll be hard, though. We don’t own a gun.
Causes Jules Jacob Supports
CASA of Southwest Missouri, Master Gardeners of the Ozarks, University of Missouri Master Gardeners, Missouri Court Appointed Special Advocates Association...