Shorts With Poetry HTML version

After being soaked through and through from the dewdrops dripping
off the different foliage‟s of the drenched jungle we felt as if we were in a
Brazilian rainforest during an afternoon shower instead of the massive
jungles of Africa. Combining the sweet and stale smells of the dampened
jungle with the alluring aromas of the fresh flowers, which grew wild in the
open plains, caused our thoughts to wander to the feelings we were on a
great Safari hunt in search of lions, tigers, and all the dangerous animals
that God had placed in the mighty jungles of Africa. We felt as if we were
the Swiss Family Robinsons, Robin Crusoe, and Robin Hood with all his
merry men (or in my sisters cases the merry women) all rolled into one.
Adventurous dreams of this sort weren‟t any stretch of the imagination for
children who were ten, eight, and seven plus a two year old to boot!
The vast and endless jungle of our young imaginative life was a ten-
acre thicket located behind the house we were renting in rural Mississippi
at the time, something new to us moving from the suburbs of a growing
town, outside the capital city of the state of Alabama with nothing to play in
but a fenced in backyard. The wild flower aromas from the wide open plains
were the fresh daisies and dandelion our mother had planted at the edge of
the over-grown thicket trying to improve the looks of the pasture like yard.
Even though threatened daily that we would be skinned alive if we didn‟t
stay out of the woods, we couldn‟t help ourselves because the mysteries of
this quaint but subtle jungle drew us in like a tick to the loose skin of a red
bone bloodhound!
This particular warm and wet morning while on Safari in the trickling
forest we hit the jackpot or so we thought at the time. The jackpot was to be
our newest pet to be displayed in the stagnate water of the round concrete
and bricked goldfish pond in the yard beside the side of the house. Having
no idea of what we were doing or what we had at the time, me and my two
older sisters started on an adventure that surely would have even made
Steve Erwin the Crocodile Hunter proud. The most risky escaped we were
endeavoring on was the capture and confinement of a giant loggerhead
snapping turtle with a shell measuring at least eighteen inches from head
tail. To add to the difficult chore of transporting our unwilling prize the