Oh, how I wish I were kidding. . .

I was once attacked by a beaver. For the record, please attempt to never have to type that sentence. It was shortly after Kevin and I got married. He was fishing late one evening at a spot on the river that I drove by on my way home. I knew he was fishing there, so I stopped. We talked for a few minutes, and Kevin mentioned that he had seen a couple of beavers since he arrived. I didn't think anything about it. By this time, it was really dark. He was behind me a little ways, working on his fishing pole. I heard the grass rustling just in front of me. It was loud, as if a very large animal was coming out of it. About that time, I could just see the grass parting, and a creature coming at me. I was shouting Kevin's name, and backing towards the river. I backed up too far. The next thing I knew, I was sliding down the bank towards the river, and the beaver had started down the bank. I managed to jump/climb up the bank as the beaver slid into the water. I stood up, dusting myself off, and trying to look as if a beaver had not just tried to eat me alive. Remember, we were newlyweds. It was important for me not to look fazed by this incident. I looked over at him, and he's literally down on the ground laughing. . .so much for remaining unfazed.

Stay tuned for the "Peacock Incident of 1983." It's a riot. . .if you're not me, that is.