Conquering the serpent

By Cheryl Barry of Underwood

If you are a snake lover or you have a queasy stomach, read at your own risk. 

When I had my house built a number of years ago, I thought having a small deck adjacent to my bedroom complete with a sliding glass door and pergola overhead would be cool.

Once, when I was on my deck reading, I noticed a small snake had climbed the vines and was observing me from above. Another time there were raccoons on the small deck outside my patio door screen during the night.

I decided I didn’t want such a close proximity to Mother Nature. I had the neighbor enclose it, therefore being a three-season porch, and the fourth a freezer or refrigerator.

One morning this past summer when I opened the door to my little screened porch, I noticed a head of a snake peering through a miniature hole in the corner of the floor. I panicked, slammed the door, and went to the garage searching for a defensive weapon. I grabbed a small shovel and proceeded to go to where the culprit was invading my territory. When I opened the door, the snake had slithered its way up in my porch! (Here’s where it gets queasy).

I took the shovel and aimed for the head, but missed and landed half way down the body. It was him or me right? I was defending my property. Stand your ground. Justifiable homicide. The shovel was heavy enough to hold it there. I dare not lift it for fear it could escape to who knows where. I leaned the shovel against the wall, closed the patio door, and racked my brain on what the next step would be. All my close neighbors are at work, so that wouldn’t be an option. With my extreme ophidiophobia (the fear of snakes) I couldn’t deal with it. I texted my grandson’s wife at work to see if by chance my grandson, who lives a mile away, took the day off.

After some time she returned my text and said my grandson wasn’t home but my teenage great grandson was, but probably still sleeping. Thankfully, shortly after I received a text saying he would be on his way over.

Quickly I gathered some rubber gloves and a five-gallon pail. The only outlet of my porch is through my bedroom, dining room, kitchen, and entry before going out the door. I didn’t want any trail (you get the picture) of this serpent left in my house.

Soon my great grandson arrived. He had grabbed his dad’s welding gloves to take on the varmint. He reluctantly tackled the critter, placed it in the pail, and disposed of it far into the woods. Curiosity got the best of me and I took a peek. I kid you not, it was a foot long!

My great grandson was my hero that day, which I hope will never happen again. I immediately covered the tiny opening where the snake came through, but am still paranoid about entering my porch. Don’t get me wrong. Even though I have this fear, I don’t intentionally harm snakes and avoid them whenever possible.