More Adventures in the Heartland

So the other morning, the day the weather was turning and colder and winter decided to drop back by for a little visit, I went down to our little basement garage to check my seedlings.  I was congratulating myself for being slow to put the plants out in the garden now that the weather was turning cold again.  I walked into the room and saw my growing racks glowing with nice, warm light.

I stepped closer to give my little darling plants a good inspection.  The trays were empty of water but the soil in the pots was still moist so I decided against watering on this day.  I noticed a few of the plants were getting stringy and needed a little more light.  I usually rotate the plants around so they can take turns being directly under the lights so they don't get too long-stemmed on me.  

I began to reach forward to grab the edge of a pot when I noticed a slight movement.  I pulled my hand back and looked closer.  There, on the second self, nestled between the pots in the nice, warm light was a bunch of coils.  Black, scaly coils.  Oh boy!

So I went to the garage and grabbed this:

And these:

because I couldn't find any of the long-handled grabber-thingies that Jason uses for his patients and are always laying around the house driving me crazy but on this particular day there wasn't a single one to be found anywhere.

And back to the basement garage I went.

I began by moving some of the pots farthest away from the coils, working my way to the inevitable (don't want to hurt all my precious little seedlings!).  Finally I got to the pot right in front of the coils.  Taking a deep breath, trying to steel my nerves, I took hold of the pot and moved it out of the way.  There lay a little black snake.  I was really hoping it was just a rat snake of some sort but as soon as I moved the pot it shot up to attention and locked its eye right on me in a very aggressive posture.  Great.  Cotton mouth?

I noticed that it looked like it might have one eye put out.  I moved to the back of the tray and pulled a couple more pots away from it.  I wanted a nice clear area to work in, there was no way I could let this thing get away, it was in the house and I didn't know what kind of snake I was dealing with.

The movement behind his head took his attention so I could sneak back around to the front of the trays and get my battle stance on.  Hoping that the cool air in the room might slow him down a bit I grabbed the pliers (or vice grips or channel locks whatever Jason calls them) and made a grab for the area just at the back of the snake's head.

O.k., actually I stood there frozen and scared for a few seconds but I finally did make a grab for the back of the snake's head.

As soon as I got a grip on him I found out really fast that the cool air in the room was not affecting him at all. Not one bit.  Apparently the warming lamps are doing their job!  The little snake went nuts, wrapping itself all around the pliers.  (We're just going to call them pliers for the sake of the story, all right?!  I know they have a real name but I don't really care, I'm battling with a snake right now and I do, for the record, have an awesome battle stance!)

I kept a firm grip so his little head couldn't get loose.  I was really afraid I might be dealing with a cotton mouth.  The whole hanging out in the water tray, aggressive attitude, going insane thing.  

I stuck his head down into the jar but his body was wrapped around the pliers, PLIERS, and my hand and he was not going to let go.  So I started shaking him a bunch trying to get him to let go.  And to try to work off some of my panic too.  Finally I kind of scraped him off on the rim of the jar and he loosened his coils so I could drop him into the jar.  I quickly slammed the lid of the jar down and screwed it on as fast as my adrenalin pumped hands could go.  The snake proceeded to strike at the side of the jar, jumping all over the place.  

Whooo-hoooo!  That was excitin' ma!

I gave the snake a few minutes to settle down.  O.k., actually, after a few minutes I came to.... ;)

After he settled down a bit I picked up the jar to bring it upstairs.  The little snake was striking away at the side of the jar, jumping at my face every time I looked at him.  (I think I must be dealing with a teenager snake!)

When the kids got home they noticed the jar and came to see what mom had caught today.  As soon as David leaned down to get a look the little monster started hitting the side of the jar again trying to bite David. I'm thinking we're going to have to get him into some anger management classes or something.  

Finally getting the bugger to settle down so I could get a better look at him he is a non-poisonous snake.  YAY!!!!!!  No cotton mouth in my house!  Whooooo!  (never thought I'd be saying THAT in my lifetime!)

So, anyways, yeah.

That was fun.

Oh, and here's the cute little devil before we took him to a land far, far away to go free:

 

What a...

nice, beautiful, quiet morning.

Oh, shoot, I did not just think that, really I didn't!

Yep, here we go again...

Going all to pieces

What a nice quiet morning!
Those are the words that always seem to get me into trouble out here in this beautiful country. Nice quiet mornings just aren't allowed in Missouri, apparently.
The storms had finally passed, everything was washed clean and the clouds were drifting more gently through the skies.
Ahhhhh.
What a nice morning to relax.
I walked across my family room and happened to glance out through the glass door expecting to see a glimpse of the beautiful little valley that slopes down behind our yard. Before I saw the green grass and trees, before I saw the little pond or the hills off in the distance, something else caught my eye. On the back porch, a few feet in front of me lay a long little body with coppery-red hourglass markings down the back and wicked little yellow eyes watching the house. Fifteen inches of sheer nastiness.
No nice quiet morning no more!
Off to the garage I headed to grab my heavy reinforced-toe muck boots. I figured I didn't have time to go all the way to the shop to get the flat-edged shovel so I had to settle for the shovel with the rounded blade. Seemed like a good idea at the time...
I came back to the glass door and looked out upon my adversary. Did I really want to open this door and leave my nice, safe abode?
Sure, I live in Missouri!
Once through the door and onto the porch, the gravity of what I was about to do started to turn a knotty little fist in the pit of my gut.
What if the little sucker managed to get around the shovel and bite me?! I had no audience! I always figured that when it was my time to go I would have an audience and it would be "the mother of all Oscar moments." How do you have a "the mother of all Oscar moments" with no audience?!! Time to get a game plan.
The little monster was busy looking over my head, watching the two birds' nests up in the rafters of the deck over this porch. I moved the shovel a little bit to see if his attention would move to me but he didn't waver in his gaze. I moved carefully over to the other side to see if his eyes would follow me but at that moment it seemed I pretty much didn't exist. Now I knew for sure I was dealing with a male.
I moved back to my starting point and began to review the Discovery Channel show I had watched just the night before featuring Bear Grylls teaching what to do in life or death situations. Last night he covered what one should do to survive a venomous snake bite.
Ironic?
Oh man, why didn't I pay better attention to what he was saying?! I was too busy making stupid jokes about taking "vitimins" (that's how he pronounces vitamins) and peeing on oneself because that seemed to be his answer for almost everything on his Man v. Wild show.
Wait, there was something about a snake being able to strike at a distance of half its body length. Or was it one and a half times its body length? Maybe I should go research this on the internet right quick so I can be sure...oh wait, I have dial-up, never mind!
All right, he's just over a foot long, my shovel handle has got to be at least four feet long, I'll just hold it waaaaay back here at the very end. Oh, would you look at that, the shovel blade is round! Huh!
(like I said, grabbing this shovel seemed like a good idea at the time!)
So I find myself understanding the importance of getting the edge of the shovel tightly fitted to the back of the snake's neck on the first attempt and due to the roundness of the shovel, I don't have a whole lot of surface area to work with--not a lot of room for a mistake in this situation.
At this point you might guess that the poor little snake was completely mesmerized by my overwhelmingly powerful stupidity--can you just imagine the little guy contemplating what size of helmet he needs to get me so I don't hurt myself?
A few deep breaths. Right, well, this has to be done. What if it gets away and sets up home in the backyard and one day the kids are playing in the grass and he is there to bite them?
Just how important are my kids to me anyway?
I have teenagers... maybe it'd be better if I just went back in the house... No, wait, that won't earn me the mother-of-the-year award will it? Shoot!
O.k., here goes nothing!
I fight every inclination racing through me to just pick up the shovel and bring it down as fast as I can on the snake's neck. This has to be precise, no second chances. If I miss he's going to bolt. There are two ways he can go: he will either come straight at me (iieeeeee!) or escape out into the yard. If I let him escape I know he'll be back with all his buddies to beat me up when I least expect it.
I move the shovel blade closer to him, he doesn't move. Whew! I inch the blade a little closer. Still no movement.
See what the power of overwhelming stupidity can do for you? And you've always talked like it was a bad thing!
Finally I have the shovel close enough that I am confident I can swiftly get it onto his neck with accuracy. I hold my breath and take the plunge.
Immediately all I can see are nasty wicked fangs. I feel the tense muscle of the snake under the shovel blade. I can feel it contracting as he tries to bring his head around to strike the shovel but it is secure.
Wow! What an interesting sensation that is!
I have never killed an animal before, never felt the bristling muscles protesting against what I'm about to do. What a horrible sensation! But it all comes down to the choice between the snake and my kids and the mother lion inside of me roars to life. The snake's head was off in an instant and I found myself standing, surveying my handy work.
And people think skydiving is exciting! Bah!
You want excitement?
Come live in Missouri!

Oh, and, just for fun I'm going to print this picture:
and hang it at the foot of Joe's bed after he has gone to sleep tonight. If you hear a blood-curdling girly scream in the morning, well, you know why I have yet to win the mother-of-the-year award. heh heh heh