I really don't like snakes. I know there are great for keeping rodents and other pests down - sigh- but I really hate snakes. As long as they are out doing their job, in the back field where I can't see them, I'm fine. HOWEVER, when they step outside those bounds and decide to come closer to visit the human in the house, I call out the reinforcements.
Yep, you guessed it, the other night, I had to call for back up.
It was your typical day. Hot, Humid, Hazy - those of you in the south know exactly what I'm talking about. Even ants break a sweat in those types of days. So after supper when it was a bit cooler, I thought I'd go out and rescue my baked laundry on the line. Basket firmly attached to my hip, I opened the back door and stepped onto the deck. I stepped maybe two feet from the door when something jerked me to a stop.
I suppose its that flight or fight lizard part of my brain that recoiled when it noticed it. Cause truly, I wasn't looking. But fear bolted my feet to the deck and the hair on the back of my neck rose. Mouth dry, I craned my neck and looked around to try and figure out what sounded the alarm. Sure enough, there by the doggies pool lay a huge black hose.
Yeah, it wasn't a hose. But it lay coiled past the pool for about three feet. Heart hammering, I did what every red blooded woman would do. I dropped the basket and ran back to the house. Flinging (Yes, in the south, we fling things) the door open, I cried out. "KILL IT!" And bless them, the men came to my defense.
My son who works in construction had just gotten out of the shower. Decked out in his blue camo boxers, no shirt, his Roy Rodgers cowboy boots, and John Deere hat came running from his room with his forty five in his hand. Ah Dirty Harry you would have been proud. Then husband appeared armed with a shotgun, bare-footed, jean shorts and a white t shirt. Ah no hat, it bothers his solar collector on his head.
Anyway, I now have Doc Holiday and the Outlaw Josey Wales on the deck going, "Yeah, that's a big snake."
"Man do you see it's head?"
"Naw, just cut it across the middle and get it to raise up."
All the while the dog is going toward the pool curious to all the shouting and smelling something not right. Me? Oh, I'm cowering behind the two big brave men and then they tell me to get the dog.
I go down the steps calling the dog who notices the son, Doc Holiday, climbing on the rail of the deck and turning his hat backwards to get a good shot. Tail between his legs, the dog slinks to me and we go in the garage to sit on the back steps. Moments later, its Saturday night in Tombstone. Shrieks of, "I got 'em!" "No, I got 'em!" ring across the yard. I let the dog go and he high tails it to the garden as far away as he can get from the smoke of the deadly shootout.
The six foot snake is dead and I am now safe. Doc Holiday has another notch on his gun and Josey can retreat to his inner sanctum. Me, I'm cutting the grass as low as it can go so Mr. No shoulders will find another spot to hide.
Yeah man, all in the life of living on the farm.
RIP Mr. No Shoulders