genetic predisposition towards terrible choices.

I am a lot like my father in my love for nature and the wild. We both geek out on seeing and finding animals in our travels. We both love getting a good picture to share. We both have the terrible habit of trying really hard to make them our friends.
Of course this is separate from all the other bad decision making I’ve inherited from my father. The financial messes, inability to stop buying toys, the need to keep moving.

The animals.
Yes. We constantly get overexcited and overenthusiastic about wild critters. My father also keeps having my brother tattoo the animals he finds in his yard on his forearms. It’s who we are.
So, I am always getting these camera phone pictures of something new pops has found in his milling around the swamps. It’s a little stressful to think of my old man with his old knees and bad heart, hunched over with his arm outstretched, hobbling around chasing things with a camera phone.
Especially when the critter he’s chasing is a five or six foot long diamondback rattler.
What an asshole.
But of course I’ve tried to pet a coyote and attempted to get a moose close-up with a disposable camera. I obviously have little room to get mad at him.

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