Primal Fear

So I haven't blogged about snakes in a while, so here is a fix for those of you fascinated by our "Croc Hunter"-like lives.

WARNING - The following text will contain information about snakes and a picture of the latest snake.  Also, if you are a member of PETA, you may not want to read about how we deal with venomous snakes going forward.

Last week, while Neta was in Raleigh, I found a large copperhead in the yard.  I almost stepped on it.  Sammie (our dog) was out in the fenced in area we made for her.  I decided to go out and play with her.  I walked down the steps of our side porch, called her to come play and looked down.  There was a copperhead  about a foot from me.  He was completely unconcerned...but I was.  I now had to corral a dog that was in "play mode".  She playfully ran right in between us.  The snake flinched, but otherwise still didn't care.  I managed to grab Sammie and as I was leading her into the house, the snake began to move away.  When I went back outside, he was gone.  He lives to fight another day.

Then two days ago, Sammie was barking at something out in the yard.  Neta went out and saw a snake.  She opened the door and Sammie came running with her tail between her legs.  FINALLY!  The dog saw a snake and understood the danger.  I grabbed the hoe from Neta, but upon arriving on scene saw that it was a rat snake, and harmless.  I pinned his head to the ground so I could pick him up and relocated him to the field next door.  Non-venomous snakes get relocated, not killed.

Last night was a different situation altogether.  Robert came in from walking Sammie around 11:30.  He said there was a "big, thick" snake in the front yard.  I heard those words and immediately thought "rattlesnake".  I was right.

It was a Timber Rattler.  This brought Neta and Emily out to cheer from the safety of the front porch.  Cheering is somewhat of a misnomer.  It was more of a constant, insistent shouting of caution (like I needed to be told that) in many different forms.

I approached him with the shovel.  He looked just as he does in that picture above, just stretched out, without a care in the world.  I struck him with the shovel, but it was only a glancing blow.  He turned towards me and started to rattle.  If you've never heard that sound before in person, upon hearing it, you will immediately know that danger is near.  The reptilian part of the brain just knows that something is seriously wrong.  It sent a chill up my spine.  I am not going to lie...I WAS SCARED.

Without going into too much detail about the battle, let me just say that he coiled up to strike at one point.  That adds another layer to the danger that you feel.  Now he's not only mad, he's in "KILL MODE".

I stayed a safe distance and managed to land the decisive blow.  Immediately the rattle stopped and I knew he was dead.  I made sure he was dead with a few pokes of the hoe.  We measured him at 50 inches.  Much bigger than the last one that we saw a few weeks ago.  I carried him over, with the end of the hoe, and deposited him in the edge of the woods.

The adventures continue...