Warning: Not responsible for any nightmares or anxiety attacks this post may cause.
Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.
Let me just share a bit of this country wife’s life with you. And, I’d like to thank you in advance for even caring to learn about my little life out here! Pretty cool, I’d say.
You see, there are some things you learn to expect: the loud, fall season bawls of momma’s and calves after they’re weened and separated, the growling of old tractors bouncing up and down the drive, the shriek of owls and hawks in the treeline, and until lately, skunks in the man cave. That one there’s a post for next week.
Some things, however, will never cease to shock me. Like your truly humming her way into the cold, lonely basement covered wall-to-wall with European mounts, the Black Huntress in tow, envisioning what to make for supper after taking a warm shower. As I clomped down the stairs and took the corner toward the shower, something stopped me in my tracks … something green, tiny, and limbless. Can you guesssssssss?
It is I, Sssssnake!
Yes, a slithery little garter snake found warmth and retreat in my basement. I did an inner shriek, something I’ve learned to do because I come across these fellows from time-to-time outside, and I don’t want to be the girl who cries wolf for my father-in-law. I mean, you never know … a mangy, rabid skunk could be coming after me, and I may want some rescuing! Oh right, that’s next week.
For now, however, I gotta learn to toughen up. I come from a long line of snake-chickens … like running, arms flailing, screaming incoherently (Mom), saw-the-white-light scared of snakes. But that was outside. This snake is in my house.
After throwing a box over Mr. Snake, I called Country Man. “Guess what?” “What?” “Another snake in the basement.” “Hmm.” “This is, like, the third time in a year, you know.” “True.” “Well! Does this mean I should be expecting more? Do they come in packs? Will they slip from the ceiling as I shower?!” “No, no, and no.” “So, you coming home to take care of it?” “Just put a box over it until I get home. It’s a garter, not a rattler.”
Fine. I walk back downstairs, Bowie still in one arm, the other holding up the towel around me. Snake was half way out of the box, assessing the dangers around him. Well this isn’t going to work, I thought. I look around at the totes of hunting gear, fishing boxes, sweet potatoes, and realize none of this will do. But in the corner, I spot an arrow. This arrow is flawed, and is being kept so Country Man can show Cabelas that it almost cost him a nice buck.
I took this flawed arrow, and using the feathered end, tilted the box and brushed Snake inside. I then proceeded to carry him upstairs, toward the back deck.
This peaked Milo’s inner hunter dude, which led me to putting him up on the heater so he didn’t exert his awesome inner burly man on the poor little guy.
I stayed a moment to watch Snake twirl around, and in return, I felt a little sorry for him. Naturally, I tried to cheer him up a bit. Now, don’t be afraid. It’s alright, nobody’s gonna hurt you. Aw, you’re kinda cute. Kinda.
So, was I surprised to see him in my basement? Yes. Would I be singing a different tune had I found his momma down there instead? YES.
But another part of me has realized I cannot always expect other people to come to my rescue. That’s just life. Maybe more so out in the country. If I allow myself to constantly be afraid, where’s the growth?
I know what kinda woman I want to be, and that kinda woman doesn’t run and scream from snakes. Skunks, yes. Snakes, no.
So I took a deep breath, set the box outside on the deck, and wiped my hands together in a satisfactory job well done. We’re going to be all right in life, aren’t we beautiful creatures of God? All but patting myself on the back, I marched off downstairs with a renewed sense of inner strength. Things are going to work out just fine, yes they are! …
Or, maybe not. I forgot about Kitty. This photo was taken after my shower, and she was feeling quite possessive over ‘her’ new friend. It didn’t end well for Snake.
So what was the real lesson behind all this? No clue. Maybe to just suck it up and stop trying to philosophize, because in my constant desire to understand everything, I simply won’t. Life doesn’t work that way.
She's a little mad about that skunk in her shed ...
But rest assure, this isn’t the last adventure I will face with Mr. Snake, or any other creature form for that matter.
This is life, in all its glory!