I Hate Snakes

True Story - I just single-handedly, with my bare hands (holding  a heavy shovel) killed this snake:

I know, you're probably thinking I'm one pretty brave woman.  Yes, yes I am... Here's how it all went down: Enda and I had gone for a quick walk during lunch, since it's finally pretty outside and somewhat warm.  When we got back, I noticed that the bark mulch in our front flower bed was moving ever so slightly.  Weird?  Enda noticed it too, and immediately went over to investigate.  That's when I saw it.  A little head.  Peering up through little nuggets of wood. And a little tongue, going in and out.

AAAAAAAUGH.  I don't like snakes.  I mean, I'm not one to panic and run away screaming - I was raised as a country girl in Central Texas, for crying out loud.  I have come up on more rattlesnakes* in my day then one might see in a Rattlesnake Roundup - sure doesn't mean I like the creatures.  They totally give me the heeby jeebies.  After I see one, I feel like they are EVERYWHERE, just waiting to crawl out from under something to bite me.  I have nightmares about them being in my bed.  I think back on scary stories from the Rescue 911 show in the 80s, about snakes getting in to campers' sleeping bags (which is the #1 reason I will never sleep out under the stars, EVER.)   My active imagination goes into OVERDRIVE when I see a snake...

So, obviously this one had to die.  Plus, I was pretty much convinced it was a baby Cottonmouth who had just hatched and was ready to bring wrath upon Peachtree Hills.  (This is not a totally unfounded fear - we have a creek in our neighborhood and there is the occasional spotting of a Cottonmouth/Water Moccasin.)

I called James, who seemed to support my murder plans.  I put Enda in the house, because she was getting a little too close to the snake.  I went out to the shed and grabbed the shovel, of course imagining that I would open the shed door to find millions of snakes jumping out at me.  Then, I proceeded to poke the hell out of the mulch until I could clearly see two parts of the snake.

Did that little sucker stop moving?  Of course not.  Because they take forever to die.  It's part of their torture technique.

James asked me to send him a picture, but that took a while because every time the body moved I had to run back to my safe spot on the porch.  After carefully examining the picture, he concluded that it was a "good snake".  Um, correction buddy, there is no such thing as a "good snake"**.  A "good" snake might kill bugs, but so will dangerous chemicals.  And we don't allow dangerous chemicals in our yard, so why should we make an exception for this ugly creature?

The End.

(Until later this afternoon when I resume my snake hunt and take the shovel to all the remaining flower beds.  Or find an exterminator who will actually be helpful without saying something like "ma'am, you can't really get rid of snakes in your yard".  Oh really, sir?  Well, you better believe I'm going to try....)

* Post-Posting Update #1 - Mother has pointed out to me that I have "not really encountered that many rattlesnakes in (my) short life".  She then proceeded to remind me of when I have come up on them, including the time one was laying in front of our door, and the time one was curled up under my swing set, and that other time when... Can we agree - even more than one encounter is "too many" encounters.  And that I can exaggerate if I want to on my blog; it's part of my creative license.  :)

** Post-Posting Update #2 - I have now confirmed that the snake is, in fact, a Storeria Dekayi.  Otherwise known as "a brown snake".  It's non-venemous.  Oh well, I'm not going to lose any sleep over it...