An Unpleasant Surprise

Inevitably, when you live a rural life, you will have encounters with wildlife. Most of these encounters are interesting, awe-inspiring, and even enjoyable. Take, for example, this fall when a large buck walked toward me with no fear and then stood staring at me just feet away until Buster chased him off. That was awe-inspiring. Having a little box turtle cross my path during my morning jaunt with my canine BFF is enjoyable. Watching a large flock of Canadian geese fly in and land on the pond with a deafening splash is an awe-inspiring experience. Listening to the peeper frogs in the spring is enjoyable. Having young foxes learn to hunt frogs at the pond is fascinating. However, there are some experiences with wildlife that I could do without.

There are times when wildlife is problematic and even frightening. Take, for example, having a large raccoon move into the barn and steal goose eggs. That is less than desirable. When the raccoon is trapped and removed from the premises, and an opportunistic opossum moves in to take the raccoon's place, it's definitely not a pleasant experience. Oh, and then the first year we had pigs, a rat colony moved into the barn. Yeah, that was disgusting. However, nothing invokes fear like a snake.

This spring, I have seen three snakes in the upstairs of the barn. That is more snakes than I have seen in several years combined, and I would rather not see them. I am not a fool, dear reader. I know snakes are in my barn. As long as I don't see them, I am fine. However, when they are bold enough to come out of hiding, that is when I begin to worry. The first snake I saw was coiled up in a small alcove near the barn doors. I spotted it first, and it was still. If I spot a snake first and it's not moving in its creepy, slithering manner, I am fine. I don't scream or run away in fear. It's when they surprise me or I come upon them unexpectedly, and they are slithering around, that I have a fearful reaction.

The second time I saw snakes, yes plural, was on Sunday. My poor Bean saw them before I did. We used the Ranger for farm chores, and when we finished, she drove it to the top of the barn to put it away. As she went to push the barn doors open, she happened to look up and saw two snakes coiled together, resting on the track of the barn doors. She screamed, yelled, "OH, HELL NO!" and went to find her dad. I was walking Buster around the field when I came upon my husband, looking perplexed at the barn doors. I asked what was wrong with The Bean, and he said, "Look up."

At first, it appeared to be one very large snake coiled around the wooden beam and the barn door track. Upon closer inspection, it was two snakes coiled together, making what will soon be more baby snakes. Like The Bean, I said, "Oh, hell no!" and moved out of the barn. The Bibbed Wonder unlatched the hook that held the door in place and gently pushed the barn doors open. The snakes took their romantic rendezvous over to the large wooden beam above his head. He kept an eye on the snakes and then pushed the doors the rest of the way open. I stood outside hemming and hawing about him standing with the snakes over his head.

I knew from experience he would not do anything to harm the snakes. Like my dad, he views black snakes in the barn as beneficial because they eat mice. I understand that snakes play an essential role in our ecosystem. However, I don't want them in our buildings. At least, I don't want to know they are in our buildings. Seeing three snakes in less than two weeks tells me we have a snake problem in our barn. I will admit, we never see mice, not even in our feed room. However, I cannot go into any part of the barn without looking up, and now I move the bags of feed cautiously, waiting to find one curled up, ready to scare the beejeezous out of me.

Even worse than seeing snakes in the barn is once again seeing evidence of a snake in the basement of our home. You may recall that I found snake droppings on top of my freezer in the basement last year. Well, dear reader, that snake seems to have moved in and made itself at home permanently. The Bean and I went to the basement to get an antique wooden crate I had stored down there. As she moved the crates, she jumped and said, "Mom, don't panic, just go upstairs. There is a snake skin on the shelf with the canning jars." We both ran up the stairs, and I went to get The Bibbed Wonder. He did not make fun of me; he cautiously moved the crates until he found the one I wanted and brought it upstairs. I stood at the top of the stairs fussing about the snake. He informed me that I need to permit him to eliminate its food source, which he claims are the squirrels and chipmunks that run around the spring house out back.

I conceded and told him to do what he wants as long as the snake goes away. I continue to have snake traps set around the basement and snake repellent placed around the perimeter of the basement. Obviously, none of it is working. I have heard horror stories about snakes being in the walls of homes, lurking in the rafters of attics, and even being found stretched across kitchen countertops or hanging from clocks and pictures on the walls. If that should happen, dear reader, I will cease being a rural farm girl and move into town. I love my farmhouse and farm, but I have my limits.

I threatened to hire an exterminator to remove all pests, including snakes, spiders, ants, and mice. However, The Bibbed Wonder informed me that the chemicals used to kill the pests would be more harmful than any of the creatures I fear. Sigh, I hate to admit it, but I think he is correct. For now, I will permit him to wage war against the chipmunks in the backyard, which he has yet to do. I will continue to set snake traps and place snake repellent around the inside and outside of the house. I will also continue to boycott going to the basement for any reason.

I suppose this is just part of living a rural life. However, I hold fast to the idea that I will not share my home or buildings with a snake. I try to remember that Little Bear, one of my baby's favorite cartoons, had a snake friend he called No Feet. No Feet was not scary. He was funny, friendly, and nice. I am trying to think of the snakes like the cartoon character No Feet. Thus far, it isn't working. I continue to get the heebie-jeebies when I think about a snake in our buildings. It's even worse when I think about dozens of baby snakes being born or hatching and making a home in our barn. Sigh.

I plan to move forward with my anti-snake plan, which involves acquiring Kune-Kune pigs and pea fowl to control the snake population. Until then, I will continue to look up every time I enter the barn and pray a snake does not catch me by surprise. What an unpleasant surprise, indeed.

On this dreary, rainy Wednesday, stay safe and be smart. I hope you don't get an unpleasant surprise, and please keep washing your hands.