Some years ago I moved to some undeveloped family land in Central Texas. The water there was bad from uncased early oil wells and nothing would grow there but mesquite trees and coyotes. Anyway, I moved a mobile home in and built me a huge pole barn.

In front of the pole barn I put an old whiskey barrel just for looks. I found a rusty old iron like they used to heat on a fireplace, and I put that on top of the whiskey barrel.

One morning, for no particular reason, I lifted up that rusty iron and found a scorpion under there. I killed it and moved on.

The next morning I lifted up that iron again...another scorpion. Until I moved back to the city months later every morning I'd lift up that iron and find a new scorpion.