Shortly after lunch today, I got the call that no man ever wants to get. My Mom said there was another snake is in the duck box. I was at work 45 minutes away but I sprang into action. My 4 liter engine took flight and I must have gone at least 64 mph trying to get to the cabin to help save the eggs. Etched in my memory from just over two weeks ago was the thought of when I fought another snake to the death, and I looked fabulous. I wanted to make sure the lessons learned from that fateful day would be utilized and the efficiency of this "Snake Killing Machine," as I'm sometimes called, was even more deadly. Today was different, it was better. I was wearing what many would call "Fancy Snake Fighting Clothes," a black T-shirt, jeans and tennis shoes. I was ready, polished, and battle hardened. In fact, I was a Marlboro and a hat away from a James Dean poster ad. If only my hair wasn't thinning,.......but that snake didn't care about my thinning hair. It's mono e mono. One of us was going down, and since I still had all those Easter leftovers to eat, it couldn't be me.
I approached the duck box with caution telling the momma duck I I was coming. I didn't want it to be like last time when I looked in and she did a Jack in the Box through the back of my head trying to get out of the box. She flew out early so now the coast was clear, the showdown of reptile vs Homo sapien could begin. But this time, I wasn't wearing Capri's and my white feet weren't shining in the sun. I had shoes on,.....advantage Homo sapien. I peaked in the box and there he was, coiled up around the eggs. He was about a 3 foot oak snake. Mom's trusty "Old person grabber" couldn't get him because he kept slithering from it's grasp. I couldn't be too aggressive because I didn't want to bust the eggs. There was only one way to do it, I had to reach into the duck box and grab the snake. Now many people have accused me of not being right, and in this situation, I'd have to agree with them. I grabbed the snake towards his tail and pulled him out of the box. I used my previous experience of snake killing as a guide and I slammed him onto the deck of the boat. That didn't phase him and he started to crawl into the water. There was nothing for me to do but step on him. Stepping on snakes isn't high on my list of "things to do" but it had to be done. We're talking about saving a clutch of duck eggs. The snake coiled around my foot and struck my shoe, but being prepared, I had Mom's trusty snake killing stick and I commenced to flogging. I don't know if it was my apparel or what, but I just couldn't kill the snake. I couldn't hit him directly on the head and my flogging wasn't doing much. The snake wouldn't die and kept trying to get in the water. My only recourse was to pick him up and whip him like a towel in the locker room. Three or four good whips and it was over. Mom's snake killing stick can get another notch.
I think a valuable lesson can be learned from this. You may dress and look the part of a snake killer, but in reality, a lot can be said about being bare footed while wearing cotton Capris with a draw string. Maybe they are just better snake fighting clothes.
I approached the duck box with caution telling the momma duck I I was coming. I didn't want it to be like last time when I looked in and she did a Jack in the Box through the back of my head trying to get out of the box. She flew out early so now the coast was clear, the showdown of reptile vs Homo sapien could begin. But this time, I wasn't wearing Capri's and my white feet weren't shining in the sun. I had shoes on,.....advantage Homo sapien. I peaked in the box and there he was, coiled up around the eggs. He was about a 3 foot oak snake. Mom's trusty "Old person grabber" couldn't get him because he kept slithering from it's grasp. I couldn't be too aggressive because I didn't want to bust the eggs. There was only one way to do it, I had to reach into the duck box and grab the snake. Now many people have accused me of not being right, and in this situation, I'd have to agree with them. I grabbed the snake towards his tail and pulled him out of the box. I used my previous experience of snake killing as a guide and I slammed him onto the deck of the boat. That didn't phase him and he started to crawl into the water. There was nothing for me to do but step on him. Stepping on snakes isn't high on my list of "things to do" but it had to be done. We're talking about saving a clutch of duck eggs. The snake coiled around my foot and struck my shoe, but being prepared, I had Mom's trusty snake killing stick and I commenced to flogging. I don't know if it was my apparel or what, but I just couldn't kill the snake. I couldn't hit him directly on the head and my flogging wasn't doing much. The snake wouldn't die and kept trying to get in the water. My only recourse was to pick him up and whip him like a towel in the locker room. Three or four good whips and it was over. Mom's snake killing stick can get another notch.
I think a valuable lesson can be learned from this. You may dress and look the part of a snake killer, but in reality, a lot can be said about being bare footed while wearing cotton Capris with a draw string. Maybe they are just better snake fighting clothes.
