It was chilly today, chilly enough that I was wishing for gloves when I went for a run. It was chilly enough that I was not expecting to see Foundation Snake curled up by the daffodils. I think he was regretting his choice to sunbathe on this damp gray day (insofar as a creature with a brain the size of a lentil can be said to experience regret), because he was looking pretty torpid when I prodded him gently with a stick.
"Maybe I could pick him up with barbecue tongs and drop him down the storm sewer," I thought to myself. But when I opened the garage door, I remembered that the barbecue tongs were indoors, in the kitchen. And maybe this will sound weird to those of you who are less squeamish about snakes, but I didn't want to pick him up with something that would eventually be used on food I hoped to eat.
"Hm," I said to myself as I looked around the garage.
My eyes fell on the rakes. "Will I have more nightmares about snakes if I try to move him or if I don't try to move him?" I asked myself. (I have been having nightmares about snakes in the house since the Unspeakable Event.) "Is it a bad idea to move him with an implement that is designed to bring him closer to me?" I asked myself. I decided that I would plunge in anyway.
Instead of using the rake like a rake, I adopted a sort of croquet-player stance, or at least the sort of stance croquet players might use if they were aiming their mallets at cold-blooded living creatures associated with evils including the Fall, countless deaths* by suffocation and poisoning, and unrelenting slitheriness.
*I know, okay; I KNOW garter snakes are not venomous and can't suffocate anything and still I cannot keep from shuddering at the thought of them. MUCH slithery. VERY slitheriness.
Wielding my rake like a croquet mallet, I sent Foundation Snake flying down the driveway. He landed with his pale belly upward, his body arranged in curves that I would call graceful if they weren't so darned...serpentine. If his little lentil brain does have any regret circuitry, it must have been lighting up like a Christmas tree.
Belly-up snake in the driveway did not seem like a big improvement over belly-down snake by the daffodils, so I tried another croquet maneuver. This time he landed in the street, unmoving, and I found myself on the horns of a dilemma.
If I left him in the street, he would probably get run over. If I scooted him into the nearest yard, it would be a failure in charity. I do not like the lady who lives directly across from us but I do take "love thy neighbor" very seriously. I believe Jesus understands why I do not like her and also does not want me to yeet any snakes at her. So that option was out.
There's a narrow vacant lot next to Grumpy Neighbor's house which seemed like a good second choice, but I am friendly with the neighbor on the other side. Probably she would not be thrilled with snake-yeeting that directed Foundation Snake closer to her foundation. I didn't want to try to put him in the storm sewer because (a) he would die there and (b) my aim was not great with my rake-turned-croquet-mallet. I can believe that snakes are good for the environment even as I wish very strongly for them not to be in my own personal environment.
I went back inside. "Marie," I said, "I have an ethical question."
While I was inside, Foundation Snake shook off his torpor, righted himself, and headed off to parts unknown. At least I hope they are unknown. Maybe the likeliest outcome is that he wriggled back up the driveway and into his favorite tiny hole in the mortar. Maybe I could spackle that little hole the next time I catch him outside. Maybe then he'll find new digs until it gets warm enough for the mason to come out and do something more permanent.
The title of this post stands for What Would Jesus Do, If Jesus Hated Snakes? Perhaps it seems to you that the obvious solution is for me to stop hating snakes. But it doesn't really seem to be a decision of my conscious mind. If the snakes on your property were causing you recurring nightmares, what would you do?
Recent Comments