Time Spent in the Outdoors

I was hiking in Angeles Crest Forest. I heard a rattling sound. I looked down and saw a rattlesnake a foot in front of me. I thought, "Do I run or stand still?" I hate when I ask myself questions that I can't answer. Not only am I still in the predicament, I also feel kind of dumb.

The snake's head was drawn back, it's mouth was open, and it's teeth bared. I suddenly became fascinated with it's fangs. I thought, "How does he close his mouth with such huge fangs?" I liked this question because it made me feel curious. Maybe the snake's fangs folded up. Perhaps they retracted. Maybe they hung out the side of his face like sideburns.

The snake slithered away. I followed it. It slithered faster. I ran after it. I was fueled by my intrigue I followed the snake into a cave. Unfortunately there were about thirty rattlesnakes in there. I thought, "How do I get myself into these situations?" I hated that question. It wasn't helping. Did I think by asking it that I would prevent similar situations from happening in the future?

All the snakes were rattling and coiled. I began to back up in the most slow of slow motions. I imagined that the rattlesnakes saw my retreat as an illusion. Rather than see me moving, they figured I was actually shrinking. Eventually I was outside the cave. I was safe again.

But then I backed into a grizzly bear. It began to growl. I thought, "If I live through this, I think I will spend more time in my garden, and take up reading."