Newt Experiences at the Chetco River
Newt experiences at the Chetco river
There are many things that might come to mind when a person thinks about camping along the Chetco River. Things like swimming , roating marshmallows over a crackling fire while warming up from the cool summer breeze, or even just the smell of the good ole outdoors. For me, however, the Chetco River brings yet another thing to mind :poison.
It all started on a warm summer evening in June of 2001.My family and I, as we always did this time of year,had been camping for 2 or 3 days. My brother,Ethan and I had found our usual perch im the shallow parts of the river catching frogs and Red- bellied newts.
Suddenly, a billowing voice came floating through the evergreens and out to the river where Ethan and I stood. It was our mom. “ Come and wash up and eat,” she shouted. So Ethan and I obediently ran up to our campsite. Now, our mom always warned us to wash our hands after playing in the river because we could get sick, and we most always obeyed in fear of getting some terrible disease or worse.
This particular occasion however, Ethan went through the typical routine of pouring some water from a gallon jug on his hands,rubbing it all together with soap and rinsing. I however, thought in my little uneducated seven year old mind, that I was somehow above all of that nonsense about death and poison. So while my brother was actually washing his hands and scrubbing off the poisonous slime left behind by the newts, I chose to just pretend that I ws washing my hands so that I could eat quicker.
So I , with my slime covered hands, happily scarfed down my hotdog. “ See nothing happened, those newts can't be poisonous.” I thought trying to convince myself that my mom was just over reacting. I went about my usual day running around the campsite, most likely driving any by-standers including my family insane. After about an hour of this ,I felt a sharp, intense pain in my side. I keeled over, gripping my gut. My mom, noticing
There are many things that might come to mind when a person thinks about camping along the Chetco River. Things like swimming , roating marshmallows over a crackling fire while warming up from the cool summer breeze, or even just the smell of the good ole outdoors. For me, however, the Chetco River brings yet another thing to mind :poison.
It all started on a warm summer evening in June of 2001.My family and I, as we always did this time of year,had been camping for 2 or 3 days. My brother,Ethan and I had found our usual perch im the shallow parts of the river catching frogs and Red- bellied newts.
Suddenly, a billowing voice came floating through the evergreens and out to the river where Ethan and I stood. It was our mom. “ Come and wash up and eat,” she shouted. So Ethan and I obediently ran up to our campsite. Now, our mom always warned us to wash our hands after playing in the river because we could get sick, and we most always obeyed in fear of getting some terrible disease or worse.
This particular occasion however, Ethan went through the typical routine of pouring some water from a gallon jug on his hands,rubbing it all together with soap and rinsing. I however, thought in my little uneducated seven year old mind, that I was somehow above all of that nonsense about death and poison. So while my brother was actually washing his hands and scrubbing off the poisonous slime left behind by the newts, I chose to just pretend that I ws washing my hands so that I could eat quicker.
So I , with my slime covered hands, happily scarfed down my hotdog. “ See nothing happened, those newts can't be poisonous.” I thought trying to convince myself that my mom was just over reacting. I went about my usual day running around the campsite, most likely driving any by-standers including my family insane. After about an hour of this ,I felt a sharp, intense pain in my side. I keeled over, gripping my gut. My mom, noticing