Walking through the bogs and swamps deep in the heart of old Florida, I came across a peculiar patch of wet soil. There, springing forth from the detritus of the underbelly of a dead log stood a tall and slender object. Almost a creature. I knew nothing of what it was as the surface and shape were almost alien to my normal senses, but a faint sound pulled me from my stupors. The sound of an awkward voice muttering the word “Squat”. Quietly and repeatedly the word echoed from the general direction of the colorful being and before I realized it, the word came from a different direction… then another. As I turned to notice several more of the unnerving creatures almost growing around me, the word “Squat” grew almost exponentially from timid voices, disembodied but definitely surrounding me. “Squat…Squat…Squat”.
