Snakes. Pure and simple, snakes. And we have a big bull snake living here on our property. Fortunately, he eats mice and he stays pretty much away from the house, so we have a peaceful co-existence.
When I was five, my family went to the Denver zoo. My father was fascinated with the diamondback rattlesnake, which then resided in a glassed terrarium at about waist level to the average adult. My father kept tapping on the glass, making the rattler coil, despite signs specifically warning against such activity. Being only 3 feet tall, I couldn’t see the rattlesnake, and I was bored with the turtles and lizards down at my level. I kept pestering my dad to let me see what he was looking at. Finally, Dad grabbed me under my arms and lifted me up to see the diamondback rattlesnake. Just as my face cleared the viewing glass of the terrarium, Mr. Rattlesnake struck, mouth wide, fangs extended, and hit the glass in front of my face. Not once. Twice.
I didn’t sleep well for two weeks.
Jebus, do I hate snakes. If I were working in the yard on my hands and knees, as I often do, and came face-to-face with the bull snake in my yard, I would scream like a little girl. It would be the last sound I made just before my heart exploded.
Now see, snakes don’t bother me at all. In fact, I have two pet snakes–a nearly 5’ corn snake named Cleo, and a 3.5’ ball python named Seymour. Great pets, those.
And spiders? Not an eyelash twitch. Even when I turned over the pallets in the feed shed and saw scores of black widows (some with abdomens the size of a marble), my reaction was, “Hey, neat!” They really are beautiful spiders.
Bees? Wasps? My sister would send me in her room to kill those for her when she was 16 and I was 11. They don’t bother me at all.
But those freakishly large moths? Hawk moths? The kind that you can HEAR flapping by and are intent on flying into my hair (I know that’s their plan, I just know it)?
That’s when I turn into my mare: Jolt to a halt, snort, blow, wheel around, and high tail it to the opposite end of everything in 0.4 seconds.
Did anyone see that piece on GMA this morning about the woman who was washing clothes, opened the washing machine and there was a snake coiled around the ringer, snug as a bug with the clothes. It even seemed sort of camoflauged with all the colors. ewwwwwwww
The huge rat that was by my back door when I got home today. We’ve been having rodent problems, and thought we got them all killed off this spring. But we’ve heard more rustling, so my husband put more poison in their hideyholes before he went out of town last week, which means it REALLY stinks in here. The one by the back door, if it’s not dead now, is nearly dead. I screamed, and cried (it’s been a really bad day already). Took the dogs out in the front yard on the leash because I couldn’t make myself go anywhere near the rodent. Called my best friend (who’s fearless) and asked if she could come take care of it, but she was already home. So I managed to put a bucket over the nasty thing, and she’ll come over tomorrow. And the back door is open to air out the house and let the dogs do their business.
Ya gotta wonder. She must have a better washer than I do. That sucker was huge. I could never estimate circumference realistically, but it was no garden snake. And he looked like he must have been six feet long. Blech!