Spring in Minnesota is much anticipated for obvious reasons. Lawnmowers and fertilizer spreaders replace of snow shovels. Migrating birds return to their favorite backyard feeders. And if you are really lucky, on a warm sunny day, you can witness the emergence of the snakes. Yep, any day where the temperature is 50°F or more, watch your step. See that black caulk between the lines in your sidewalk? That's a snake. How about that broken branch lying in your garden mulch? Nope, snake. The kids left a flat bike tube out in the yard? Guess again. That's the way it is at my house, anyway.
I’m originally from Texas, where rattlesnake hunts are as common as ticks on a whitetail. But I had never seen so many snakes in close proximity to human habitation until we moved to Minnesota. They're 'completely harmless', according to my neighbors. Maybe so, but they are as deadly as a pit viper if you are likely, as I am, to have The Big One and keel over every time you see one. Our first spring here, one of our legless friends made himself comfortable in the flower beds near our front porch. We would see him occasionally, basking himself in the spring sun. He was always more or less in the same spot, and pretty shy, so we got used to him and he to us. This is good, I thought. I can handle this.
Until some of his pals started turning up in unexpected places. One afternoon my teenager was mowing the lawn. I heard the mower stop, then the screen door slammed. "Mom,” she called upstairs, “there's a snake."
Ordinarily I would say, “That’s nice, dear,” and wait until my husband came home to deal with the little fellow. But it was one of those gorgeous Minnesota days and I was feeling up to the challenge. Most of the lawn was shorn down to fairway level, except for a small rectangle in the center. The culprit held his ground there.
"Just make lots of noise," I said, recalling various programs I had seen on the Animal Planet channel. "They will feel the noise vibrations in the ground and clear out." Folks, I am here to tell you that this is an out-and-out lie. We made all the noise we could think of, not to mention the high decibel roar of the Briggs and Stratton mower motor. No effect. On to Plan B.
"Get a rake," I instructed. "We'll shoo him away.” Let's just say the rake was not a big hit with our friend. Who knew that a 'harmless' snake could rear up and hiss like a King cobra? I dropped the rake and Plan B.
What now? Aha! My neighbor's teenage son was shooting hoops in his driveway. In my shameless cowardice, I called, "Hey, Kyle! Can you help me get rid of this snake?" Now, Kyle is a brave young man. Snakes fear him. At least, I hoped they did. I proposed that he use the rake and my five gallon plastic bucket to relocate our slithering nemesis to a friendlier locale. By now, my younger son and his friend had heard the commotion and joined the fray. The flesh crawling on the back of my neck became unbearable, and I retreated to the safety of the indoors, barricading myself inside. That I had left my precious children and their friends outside to battle the beast mattered not.
Did I mention that I hate snakes?
Eventually my son came in to report success. We exchanged high-fives and my daughter was able to resume mowing. Of course that wasn’t the end of the snakes, not by a long shot. I wonder if the ones I see now are new snakes, or relocated snakes returning to their version of San Juan Capistrano (my front yard). I think I am going to have to come up with another plan. I am up to C now. I sure hope I don’t have to work my way to Z.
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