Liza Martz (lizamartz) wrote,
Liza Martz

Serpents ~~~~~~~

When I recently woke to find this guy inside my screened porch I have to admit to a moment of panic. Although I'm not squeamish about snakes, I didn't fancy picking it up and carrying it to freedom. (Please note the tail running down the diagonal wood behind it.)

I wished it no harm, it was one of the good guys - a Black snake - scourge of rodents and, therefore, a friend of mine. After many minutes of struggling with who to call who would agree to remove the snake without killing it, I had a stroke of genius: open the door to the porch and it would leave of its own volition. I did and it did.

It glided tentatively across the deck, moving its head from side-to-side as though trying to remember where it had come in. I figured when it got to the railings it'd corkscrew around one and slide to the ground fireman-style. 


It took the stairs. 

Well. That was interesting.

A week later another snake showed up on my porch. Jack, one of my dogs, had cornered it behind a cooler. This one was not Mr. Friendly-Black-Snake but a Copperhead. Mean, nasty, and prone to sinking its venom-filled fangs into things that got on its nerves. Like my dog. Or me.

I shooed the canines into the house then got as close as I dared for a photo shoot. The snake lay coiled next to my dryer vent in an undulating knot of ire. (Please, dear god, don't let it find a way inside the dryer vent!)


The situation called for immediate action. I ran in the house and slammed the door. Okay, so now what?

I considered shooting it but concluded that would inflict more damage on my house than the snake. I was not about to whack it with a shovel. I know my limitations. The first sign of retaliation from the snake and I'd have been leaping around the deck  making primal noises. With no other solutions in sight I went to bed.

In the morning I awoke with a plan: I'd get the heavy glass bell jar I'd liberated from an abandoned high school chemistry lab and plunk it down over the snake. The dogs couldn't get the snake, the snake couldn't get them or me. Then, well, then I'd figure out the next step.

I tiptoed onto the porch in the early morning fog, clutching the bell jar to my chest. I hoped it wouldn't break when I dropped it on the snake and fled. The snake was gone.

But how gone? Not very is my guess. I think it resides under my porch. Now what?

Time to go back to Michigan.

Tags: country life, snakes
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