One of my good friends Dave Feurtado and his wife Caroline announced Thursday that they're leaving for the states this Thursday rather than August 27. (I will really miss Dave. He's pictured with some Beaumont team members at Wesley Team Replaces UMCC Fence: July 21, 1999.) Dave invited me up for lunch today. They were to be having conch, a real treat for both islanders and itinerant Methodist pastors alike. (Many of my Florida readers will know that the critter that inhabits those famous conch shells is edible and, in fact, delicious.)
Dave picked me up on his three wheeler at about 11:00 for a ride up to the house. He and a neighbor had a job going, laying concrete over a perpetually muddy patch of earth next to the house. I watched them mix the cement, sand, and gravel on the ground and spread it out, a common technique for small jobs. Dave called me over to the burlap, pointing to something. Prior to today I'd only seen them in zoos. It was a big brown fuzzy tarantula! Dave explained that they're really pretty harmless; they won't bite you unless you harass them. He did volunteer that if their fuzz touches you you'll itch there. (Not that I had any intention of petting the thing.) Dave said he didn't like to kill them but that Caroline insisted on it. He made quick work of it with the end of a board. Dave said that I'd likely never see one in town, where I live, only out close to the bush. Fine by me. I did look this up:
The so-called American tarantulas are large, hairy spiders occurring in the southwestern United States, Central America, South America, and other New World tropical regions. They feed on insects and a variety of small animals. A large species of this group has a bite that is painful but never, so far as accurate records show, fatal to humans.1
Great. One less thing (that I didn't even know was here!) to be afraid of. I do wish I would have had my camera with me. Hey, wasn't it Dave that found that scorpion last week? (See Wildlife Around Utila: July 20, 1999.) Maybe I need to quit hanging out with Dave!
On to lunch. It was delicious. Conch, cooked up in a nice sauce with dumplings and served along with boiled breadfruit and plantain and rice and beans. The neighbor, Dave, Caroline and I, a friend "Poncho" who had come to help cook and a 14 year-old boy whom Dave had hired to help with the concrete job enjoyed the meal together. It was followed by coffee. Oro, the popular brand here is very strong; the Feurtados mix it half and half with an American brand they bring with them.
After coffee I asked Dave to take me to the nearby home of Sherry who had hosted part of the Beaumont team. I wanted to drop off a thank you note and wasn't sure where she lived. It's adjacent to the soccer field which had been relined for a baseball game (a visiting team from Tegucigalpa is here to play). The teams were assembling to warm up, I guess, and the sound system guys already had the music blaring. Dave was yelling to get the attention of anyone at the house because at the open gate was a sign in both Spanish and English: "Perros Bravos, Bad Dog." They couldn't hear us up at the house and I didn't see any Bad Dogs, just a docile looking one. Which, as I made my way up the walk, promptly bit me on the leg. (One of those times when I was thankful that long pants for men are the cultural preference here.) Not wishing to risk actual injury, I walked back down the walk to the gate. Sherry did appear and waved me up, shouting that the dog wouldn't hurt me. To Sherry's surprise, the dog came at me again. (I guess we can add pastors to the short list of letter carriers and meter readers that dogs love to bite.) I delivered my note and quickly left. The dog decided to pursue me even beyond the gate as Dave and I sped away on the three-wheeler. Sometimes Utila makes me tired. I think I need a nap.
When they're not on Utila, Dave and Caroline live in New Orleans. I'm hoping they'll be able to come to the wedding in October.
1"Tarantula," Microsoft® Encarta®
Encyclopedia 99. © 1993-1998 Microsoft Corporation. All rights
reserved.
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Lets see... One, two, three warnings and I still went in! Glad I suffered nothing worse than a tear in my pants leg. |
