Snakes Are Scary!

I hate snakes. Truly. They scare me so badly. This is the Deep South where one can happen on a snake at any moment. We watch for them in the yard, in the floor beds, in the garage. Anywhere really. That's especially true in May and June. The old timers tell me that's when snakes travel in pairs. Their version of mating season.

I walked out onto the back patio the other day. I was minding my own business. Okay. I was minding the dirt dobbers' business. I'd watched them building away while I washed dishes and I was going to tear their dirt mess down before more dirt dobbers could hatch. I do this on a regular basis. I'd like to believe that we have fewer dirt dobbers because of it. I'm not sure though. We have a lot of dirt dobbers.

I glanced at the top of the screen door that leads from the laundry room to the patio before I stepped outside. A few years ago a snake was resting on top of the door and struck my father. Fortunately, he has a hard head and it didn't break the skin. But that taught me to always look. Seeing no snake, I stepped out and proceeded to get my stick and do what I'd gone to do. I started back across the patio and stopped. I blinked my eyes several times. I knew that really wasn't a moccasin crawling alone the side of the house right beside the door I'd just come out. Nope. I was hallucinating. Had to be. The brick is a multi-color so it was just my imagination. I blinked again. It was real.

I raced around and through the garage to grab the phone. I punched in my father's cell phone number -- my parents were at the senior center -- to call for help. I opened the back door and frantically motioned for Little Guy to go inside the house. He was resting in front of "his" fan. I explained about the snake to my father. I expected him to try for a conversation. He usually does, as I get more and more frantic. Fortunately, he must have realized the gravity of the situation. He said he'd be right there.

I called Sunshine and Miss Lady Bug and got them in the house. I wanted no dogs having a close encounter with a snake. In the meantime the snake was crawling and was on the screen door. Did I mention we keep it propped open so the dogs can go in and out? I quickly grabbed two long poles. I informed the snake he was not coming in the laundry room. The snake's answer? He leaned his head inside and stuck out that awful tongue. I was not amused. I grabbed two long poles. I used one to push open the door and the other to knock down the brick holding the door open. That was not an easy task for someone who is uncoordinated and shaking really, really badly.

The snake almost fell to the ground as the door banged shut. I started back through the garage and around to make sure he didn't get away. As I ran -- with a pole in each hand -- the calvary drove up. Okay. It didn't look like the calvary. But that silver Toyota mini-van looked mighty fine as my father jumped out and hurried to the patio. Where the snake still clung to the brick wall. My father grabbed a hoe. I told him I was going to go hide. I never said I was brave.

He killed the snake. Thankfully. Mocassins are poisonous you know. And aggressive. Just nasty. My father, being a man, had me get the ruler so he could measure the snake. He needed to tell his friends at the senior center. I guess that the snake was more than five foot long adds drama to the story. When he finished that, he threw the snake in the pond, I hosed away the blood and out the dogs came. I eased my way back into the house, deciding I really didn't ever need to go outside again.