So, I’m outside smoking and lost in deep thought when a creature crawls from beneath the barbecue. For a moment, we both just sort of froze. I looked at him and he at me and if there was any telepathic communication going on, it went like this:

Don’t think I know you, friend. In fact, don’t think I know your species.

The critter was about a foot long with beady eyes behind a long, tapered snout. Not real menacing to look at, though there was a sense of incongruity in this place not normally inhabited by any beasts but me.

The creature had enough of my ugly mug and took off into the backyard. I went inside to research what variety of nocturnal maneater I had just confronted because, well you never know. It could be some breed of vampire or possibly something I could exploit somehow. And while researching with the terms “maine,” “nocturnal” and “rodent,” I came across this.

I’m pretty sure this is not what I met out by the barbecue. Because if I had come face to face with this Bradbury-esque monstrosity, I’d be still running and screaming and vowing to never touch liquor again.

A star-nosed mole, it’s called. But to me, it looks like something that would burst ouf of someone’s chest to get a look at Sigourney Weaver in a tank top.