May 23

So, you guys, I might have to set the house on fire.

Remember a year ago, when there was a garter snake in my herb garden? (I scrolled back through those comments and noted that Mandamum, who kept a jumping spider in her bedroom on purpose for a while, is also significantly more relaxed about snakes than I am.) Earlier this month I found a garter snake peeking out from under the viburnum bush. I did not shriek; I went inside and invited the kids to come see, and we watched him together until he slipped away. I felt very wise and mature! And then-- today happened.

Today was an excellent day, actually. Pete and I spent hours outside, tidying up and planting pretty sweet-smelling pollinator-attracting things. I got into the peony/iris bed and dispatched all of the bindweed tendrils along with all of the feathery woody-weedy things that also like to grow there. I was thinking about snakes while I was working in there, because I wondered if our compost pile might attract rodents which might attract snakes. But there were no snakes by the compost (or at least none that I saw, which is not the same thing, I suppose). I walked over to the garbage can to toss a piece of plastic that had been hiding in the peony/iris bed, and crossed back by way of the beds on the south side of the house. I was pulling weeds out of the vinca as I went, when suddenly I saw a small snout and a pair of glinty eyes, and yellow-orange stripes streaking down a black body.

So far so normal, right? A warm day, a nice patch of vinca to hide in-- sounds like snake heaven? But you guys, this snout was right at my back door. If I had opened the storm door I would have whacked this little guy on the nose. I do not want a snake lurking at my back door. 

Pete joined me, and I scooted the welcome mat away from the door, whereupon I gasped a small gasp. "Oh my word, I think it's a nest," I said faintly. It turned out that it was not a nest. Only one additional snake was hiding under our welcome mat, but their bodies were coiled and tangled. And the number of snakes I am willing to step over to enter and exit my home is LESS THAN TWO. (It is also less than one.)

We watched them for a while as they twisted and writhed and tried to figure out why their roof had suddenly been lifted off. The mat had been covering a bit of a gap between the sidewalk and the foundation. There are some dead leaves and vinca stems in the gap, and some funky heavily textured composite material in the section of the foundation right below the doorsill.  The snakes were gliding in and out of the crevices in the foundation in a way that made me wonder just how deep those crevices are. (In other words: are there baby snakes in the wall of my house? or heaven forfend, in my basement?? Surely the two snakes entwined under the welcome mat have a strictly platonic relationship, don't you think? Aren't all snakes celibate? I think they're probably just like mice in that regard.)

They were very curious about us, lifting up their heads to see us better, flicking their tongues at us, even inching a little closer to us. Eventually they slithered away to quieter places.

In the abstract I can appreciate the niftiness of a snake. So sinuous! So stripey! So very many delicate ribs! But I find that snakes are best appreciated at a remove, and that my capacity for snake appreciation is modest. I was FULL UP on snake appreciation after that encounter at the back door. So you will perhaps understand that this evening when I moved one of the bricks that encloses the herb garden and found YET ANOTHER SNAKE curled up beneath it, only a few inches from my own personal hand, I let out a small shriek. He did not appreciate being shrieked at, and hied himself away in search of a new hiding place.

I am all done for a while with being wise and mature about snakes, my friends.

Comments

[L]

I feel your pain. Have you read my story from June 2018 on the list we have in common? I am still traumatized.