There is a housing development in northwest part of the county that surrounds a hundred year old cemetery. When Hannah was leaning to drive, we took a 75+ mile excursion up along the western boundary of the county and then drove east to A1A and back south to St. Augustine. We stopped at the cemetery simply because it was so bizarre: early 20th century graves in a sand lot, not unlike Selma Baptist’s, but much unlike Selma within eye shot of the St. Johns Clubhouse and within earshot of men and women in groups of four shouting “Fore!”
If you have seen the film “Sunshine State” this site was recreated exactly in a fictionalized form, but real enough that the scene could have been shot @ St. Johns.
Hannah parked the car and we walked around the cemetery, reading a few headstones, Hannah paying particular attention to the names of the past.
As we walked back to the car, I saw a cow killer. I stopped, called Hannah over, and pointed out the ant-like monster to her. Initially she was startled at both its size and its speed, seemly driven by some intense mission. When I told her the creature’s name—Cow Killer—she seemed even more startled.
I told her that the first one I ever saw was during the summer I spent several weeks in Dothan, ahead of the family’s annual July visit, spending a few days at Granddaddy’s, a few days with Cousin Stephen. I was with Granddaddy and he pointed out the varmint to me and stated that the only way to kill one, for sure, was to take a pocket knife and cut it in half, easily done because its body is simply two red pods connected by a simple black thread-like stem.
After showing one to me, Granddaddy took out his knife and made it two. I was startled by the result: the hind portion stopped—dead; the head continued to run, in less a straight direction than before, but with no less ferocity.
I have cut one or two myself, but not recently. No where near recently. I did not cut the one Hannah and I saw, but we did watch it run for a while and then returned to the car and back into a civilization devoid of sandy cemeteries and small seemingly hell bent bugs.