The first time I spied the seven-foot long bull snake, it emerged out of a hole under the foundation of the pole barn, which housed our yearlings. It frightened me so badly that I jumped up on the side of the gate. I eyed it as it made its way through the long grass in search of food. It didn’t seem to threaten me in any way, and so I returned to my chores.
That evening I felt thankful that it didn’t live in our cozy yard where the children played, but instead out at the far reaches of the property. After the first sighting, I scrutinized the area for it when I was saddling my horse, since I usually did so right next to the pole barn. My magnificent American Saddlebred horse was already high strung. The presence of a bull snake had the potential to unnerve him completely.
Several days later, I entertained my younger brother and sisters in the backyard. I ran around with them barefoot and played tag, dug with them in the sandbox, and pushed them on the swings. It was then that I felt the tickle underneath the arch of my foot in the grass. I caught my breath in alarm as a tiny snake slid right underneath my foot. The play period in the yard ended with shrill squeals of displeasure as we all ran into the house.
We reported the incident to our father, who assigned the task of rounding up the snakes to my brothers and cousins. (Our cousins lived with us during the summer and worked on the farm.) I had no idea what they did with the mother snake, and I didn’t want to know. My little brother and sisters, and I felt happy that the boys removed the unpleasant creatures from the yard, even though bull snakes were advantageous to the farm in that they ate unwanted pests.
A few hours after the corralling of the bull snakes, the doorbell rang. I opened the main inside door, and before I had a chance to open the screen door, all the baby bull snakes deposited between the two doors quickly squiggled off into the house in search of cover! We never knew if we had captured all the snakes or whether an errant snake would show up under the covers of our bed at night while we were sleeping!
Looking back, I feel more empathy for the poor, uprooted little snakes, which didn’t know how to survive in the interior of a house. A stench under a bed was more than a cleaning dilemma, but a decaying baby snake, which couldn’t find any appropriate food inside the house.
The escapade kept us on our toes for the remainder of the summer. Imagine a baby bull snake, which managed to stay alive on dog food or scraps from the table. It grew to several feet in length, and then one day felt bold enough to make a break for the front door out of a pile of dirty clothes in the closet! The fright of them living outside was not nearly as great as the fright from them living inside! It didn’t take long to develop a proper perspective about the usefulness of bull snakes. Open the door, the snake deserves its freedom!
What do you remember from your childhood?
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