Salamanders

Last spring there was a salamander in my basement. 

I'm not normally a squeamish type person.  Cleaning fish and gutting game don't bother me.  changing diapers is no big deal after four kids and lots of babysitting.  I don't mind getting muddy in my flowerbeds, and I actually sort of like getting all greasy and grimy when I play mechanic.  Spiders and bugs are just spiders and bugs.  Snakes are snakes and we get along just fine as long as they don't try to bite me. 

I don't know what it is about salamanders.  Frogs are okay.  Turtles are nice.  Well, not the snapping turtles that chomp the fish we leave tethered to the dock, but in general.  But salamanders I have a problem with. 

Anyway, last spring I went down into my basement in all innocence and almost stepped smack onto this salamander.  I don't scream about things as a general rule, either.  I'm not one to faint at the sight of blood, or vomit just because someone else does.  But I admit I did let out a smallish squawk about that salamander. 

Salamanders don't bite.  I don't think they even  have teeth.  I don't know what they eat, but it surely can't be people.  They also don't jump on you or chase you or anything else scary. 

I called my friend to come get the salamander out of my basement.  He told me to pour salt on it and it would die.  Well that's fine, but to do that I'd have to get closer to it than I wanted to.  Besides, I didn't want to kill it; I just wanted it out of my basement. 

All things considered, I figured there wasn't anything I really needed to go down there for anyway.  I stayed upstairs.  Jim said that salamanders couldn't climb stairs, but if it came up from the basement he'd come and get it.  Gee thanks.  I kept the basement door closed just in case. 

I don't know if it's still down there; I haven't checked.  Jim's wrong more often than he's right, but he knows his salamanders.  This one hasn't climbed the stairs yet.  As far as I know.