The Trouble With Snakes

Margo Oxendine, Contributing Writer

Margo Oxendine

I guess the most surprising thing is, I was not surprised. I headed out to the line with my laundry earlier today, and had to stop in my tracks. A fat blacksnake, about 5 feet long, was lounging in my path. He and Brownie and I stared at each other. Then, I gathered my courage and stepped over him. I kept casting glances over my shoulder as I hung the towels and sheets. He slithered away. I was grateful.

I know, blacksnakes are not harmful. Still, I don’t like to encounter them along my chosen path.

I was not surprised to see the snake because this seems to be “the year” for them around my house. It seems as if every summer, another plague of some description becomes abundant. I’ve had grasshoppers, those creepy earwigs, the dreaded hornets that lurk underground. We’ve all experienced an invasion of ants or stinkbugs or beetles. I am not fond of any of them, regardless of how “helpful” they may be.

Remember my recent column about my baby birds? To update you, the mossy nest packed with four baby wrens hatched. They were not wrathful. And my first batch of robins flew into the yonder, only to be quickly followed by — surprise! — two new robin’s eggs in the same nest.

I kept a twice-daily watch on these eggs, wanting to observe the entire process. Yet, just a couple days after the eggs appeared, they disappeared. As I stood there pondering the empty nest, I glanced away and — yikes — there was a snake in the grass. I guess I know what happened to the lovely eggs.

So, there was snake number one. I encountered another, different snake the next day, slithering toward the carport. Perhaps he had travel in mind. I gave him a wide berth. Then this morning, the long, scrunchy blacksnake. That’s three snakes too many.

In my store of snake stories nothing, of course, can top the mating rattlesnakes that two dogs and I disturbed deep in the woods one Sunday. I was so scared I could not force myself to move past them. One of the dogs was bitten five times in just moments. We then had to dash some three miles back to the cabin, which was 45 miles from “civilization.” On that occasion, something incredible occurred: A neighbor happened to have a snakebite kit for dogs in her refrigerator, and a truck with a crate large enough to hold the hefty Labrador with the terrible swollen face. She got him to a vet in West Virginia just in time to save his life.

Two different dogs and I were walking through the woods up in Bolar one afternoon. On our way home, we passed close by a neighbor’s garden fence. About 15 minutes later, I heard gunshots. They were very close. We ran out to “scare off” the intruders, only to discover the neighbor lady, and her neighbor. The fellow was holstering a big pistol. Again, an incredible occurrence: The next nearest neighbor was home, and happened to be a superb marksman.

Turns out, a 6-foot rattlesnake about 4 inches in diameter had been lurking on that fence when the dogs and I passed. The neighbor lady noticed him shortly after and, being alone and gun-less, called the nearby marksman.

For at least an hour after the disturbing hoopla, the body of that headless snake still writhed on the fence. It was fascinating. The dogs and I did not hike through the woods for the rest of my visit.

What’s the worst snakey thing that could happen? That would be one getting inside the house.

I’ve had that happen, too. Again, on another pet-sitting adventure. I awoke from a nap, craved an icy Coke, and lurched toward the kitchen. The cat seemed fascinated by a toy. “That sure looks realistic,” I thought. Then, the toy snake began to writhe. I screamed and he headed straight toward me. I called a teenage neighbor, who just happened to be home, and just happened to crave an adventure.

He appeared forthwith. He spoke softly. He carried a big stick. He lifted the snake on the stick, dashed to the door and flung it outside.

Nowadays, in my sleep, I see snakes slithering through some slim crack in a wall or window. It’s a Midsummer Nightmare.

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