It’s Pyro-Technic-Time!!!
It’s time for Florida’s three days of cold. I have seven cords of wood.
I’m ready.
I spent a day with the front-end-loader picking up and stacking firewood. I’ve knocked off carpenter ants, red ants, worms, chameleons that aren’t chameleons (but I can’t remember what they are actually called). I wore gloves and boots and the weather was cool-ish, so the likely-hood of highly interactive, poisonous snakes was on the low side. But I kept my one-good-eye peeled for snakes regardless.
I did find a very cute little, all cinnamon-colored snake, which I have now come to find out is a baby rat snake. Sooooooooo, I grabbed his lethargic-ness and plopped him in a mason jar and my daughter subsequently re-located him down the road in the swamp by our friendly, neighborhood drug store. (Don’t tell anyone).
Because as we all know, cute, baby rat snakes grow up. And they usually grow up and get big and healthy on MY CHICKEN EGGS!!!
Oooooh, I have neglected to journal about our “last snake encounter” (of a large, dramatic nature).
He was the one that got away, earlier in the summer. And yes, “he” was a boy………………..don’t ask me how I know…………………it’s too personal.
BUT, he had gotten bigger over the last few weeks……………….on OUR duck eggs!!! And the good ones too, not even the rotten ones I had left for him as bait.
And did you know that large rat snakes can scale cement-block walls without any help/assistance/ledges/steps/or anything!!!!…………………………….the stuff of nightmares! They just seem to slither on a vertical wall with ease and fluidity……………………and they are ALWAYS coming towards you…………….straight towards you……………….with their beady-little eyes focused on you………
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So we located Mr. Rat Snake again. He was on the wall outside Stalag Coop (of course)-(see “Stalag Coop—–#3” post/published May 20, 2017). He just hung there imitating a bad wall-mural in the dark………………………………
I know, I know……………………….snakes have a purpose……………………………
Just Not Where I Can See Them———AND———Not Hanging On The Side Of My House In The Dark!!!!!
And so. The buck stops here………………MooMah-Snake-Wrangler to the rescue……………………but who rescues me(?)!!!
………………….Now he’s heading towards the eaves and the holey soffits leading towards the attic……………………..
Nooooooooooooooooo………………………….THEN, if he gets in, we’d have the potential of a snake in the house (or at least rattling around in the ceilings above our pillows at night—————–eeeeeeeeewwwwwwww!)
My elder daughter illuminated the way (with her smart phone?)-(whatever happened to good, old-fashioned flashlights?), I scaled the (now defunct) rusty, whirlpool motor/heater and PVC apparatus (that’s derelict on that side of the house). And Mr. Snake is making his escape, moving up the wall, defying gravity, like he’s got Velcro on his belly.
The PVC is groaning under my weight (hey, I’ve lost fifteen pounds so far———-don’t judge), my daughter is chiding me to be careful (don’t tell my Orthopedic Surgeons), and I swear I hear Mr. Snake chortling as he’s getting closer to the eaves above my head……………………….
Well, I am here to say that my “stubborn/berserker-mode” kicked into over-drive. I yelled to Daughter #1 to watch out, as I intended to grab him by his tail (as he was close to getting away for the second time) and sling him in her general direction. She’s yelling something about my knees and how I wasn’t being prudent or careful. I’m yelling here he comes. Then Mr. Snake (probably because of all of the yelling) hesitated in his unnatural climb, and somehow I stretched those extra feet while balancing on groaning, vertical PVC………………………And Bob’s Your Uncle!
No, I didn’t fall. And……..no, I didn’t drop Mr. Snake………….but I am here to say that a large, scared/angry, rat snake’s defense in that situation (while he’s defenselessly wrapped up my arm) is to musk………………and to musk heavily………………….Blllllllllaaaaaaahhhhhhhh.
No, Uncle Bob was not musked. He smelled just fine (creepy old dude).
I am also here to say that rat snake musk does NOT come off with one, aggressive shower scrub (ouch)…………………..no, it does not.
And cuticle brushes dipped in Clorox did ultimately give me a fresh, bleached, musky smell………………………so, that’s good.
And Mr. Snake was dispatched to yet another swamp (that may have been behind the parking lot of said-daughter’s new restaurant employment…………..sssshhhhhhhhhhhh).
Plus, my daughter talked me out of walking in with my scaly bracelet and scaring my husband who was pleasantly, relaxed in his recliner, watching TV, totally unaware of our goings-on.
And we did Mother Nature a good turn by taking Mr. Snake’s DNA further than he could have slithered on his own to find new girlfriends (powered by our duck eggs).
Plus the bad-next-door-neighbors continue to give us a wide-berth, probably because of all of the middle of the night banshee-screaming.
So see——————that’s a good thing too.