Or was it a black stick? I tiptoed closer ... nope, definitely a snake. Did Bia-the-city-girl panic? I did not. I am getting used to the scary, creepy, crawly wildlife that makes up our woodsy backyard and nearby canal trail.
So I picked up a pebble, and tossed it near the snake in the hopes it would slither away. It didn't move. I tossed another. Again, no movement.
So I crept closer and leaned down. A snakeskin! Fully intact, from head to tail. Although sufficiently creepy (after all, where was the snake who left his skin behind?) it was fascinating. I started to reach out to poke it, but stopped. Instead, I stepped over it and went inside.
Fifteen minutes later I had to get something from the garage and when I exited the back door ... WHERE WAS THE SNAKESKIN?
There were two options:
1- A wild and woolly squirrel (of which there are MANY in our backyard) took it. Dinner? Dessert?
or ...
2- I almost POKED A LIVE SNAKE WITH MY FINGER!!
That night during dinner I told my guys the snake encounter story, and Timothy thought it was funny. Joe wanted to know if I had been wearing my glasses, and Timothy thought that was funny, too. Then they both laughed.
No sympathy from those two. It wasn't meant to be a FUNNY story. It was a HORROR story! I mean, I could have been bitten and died a gruesome death right there in our backyard!
Next time I'm calling my dad. He rescues me from snake encounters.
Myrtle Beach, 2007
1 comment:
Oh, I would have definitely called someone because there would be NO WAY I would step over it - molted skin or not. I don't have anything to do with snakes or frogs/toads - nope.
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