I know, such the blurry photo, but it was early morning and I had not yet had my tea. Not much light and shaky hands. And come on. There was a snake in my house.
I believe the snake carrier was that fuzzy observer at the top, but it’s possible that she is just looking on in wonder at something her sister did. Lucy is a fiercesome hunter. Scouty has a niche of bothering lizards but not much luck getting hold of anything else.
So here’s the thing. Last summer the coyotes had a den a few houses over and just a teensy bit up the hill. Every time an ambulance or a train went past they would all start yipping and calling. Not a good situation to send much loved cats out into. Typically the cats stay in most of the year and then get freedom in the summer with the door left open from morning to dusk so that they can just come and go. I’ve always crossed my fingers because I do live up against a wild mountain forest, but their delight at the freedom makes me keep doing it. But not last year, with the coyotes such a close and in-your-face presence.
This spring I spotted coyotes a few times, sometimes in daylight and sometimes on the street right in front of my house. So sorry cats, too risky.
We are having such a hot summer and every time I come home with an armload of bags the cats are waiting and burst out the front door before I can stop them. They’re so wanting to feel grass under their feet and get out of a steamy house. This escape is followed by copious rolling on the doorstep (them) and muttered curses and begging to come in (me).
Last week I was out in my jungle of a backyard attacking blackberries that had grown so close they were almost knocking on my back door. I hadn’t seen or heard any sign of coyotes for so long that when the cats burst out I left them out a few hours to wander and enjoy. It was all good for a few days until I heard the coyotes again, a huge number of voices so I guess their babies are big enough to join in now? The cats were again relegated to pushing their noses up against the windows from inside and glaring at me.
So back to snake. The above cat info becomes more pertinent when I tell you that on the morning I saw this guy waiting to say good morning to me the cats hadn’t been out the day before. And possibly not the day before that either. It appeared that snake had already been bunking at my house at least a couple of nights! As I stood there counting days on my fingers and thinking this over it was not a nice thing to be thinking about.
I looked at snake and tried to figure out how we was doing, and if he was actually alive. Surely he’d be all curled up if he wasn’t, or the cats would be dragging him around in celebration of their mightiness. This was all a little too much to be thinking about first thing in the morning with bare feet and no tea in my belly. I know this sounds like a bad decision but I left to go make tea. Sorry. I just need it to think.
So it turns out leaving to get my tea was a bad decision. But you knew that. I left my tea steeping and came back to find snake gone. No sign.
So. Apparently alive then.
I’m no rookie at wildlife coming to visit my forest-surrounded house so this was off-putting but not a dealbreaker. I assumed he had slithered under the piano and went back to get that tea. But when I came back a bit later with a flashlight there was no snake under the piano. No snake under the couch. Or the chair. Damn.
I had run out of places to look so I left to get some work done and hoped that the cats would point me to him later. They’re not very good hunters once they’ve brought things in, but they are pretty good pointers. They lie and stare at where the beastie is hiding with their best blasé lion faces on. You would swear that if only they could get at that thing they’d make short of work of it. They’ve got this. Yeah.
In past anytime there was a beastie loose I could leave the door open and hope it would find its way out, and this seemed to work out. But now I needed a snake out and cats in.
So the day passed with absolutely no sign of snake. I named him Rosco and hoped that at least he was eating spiders. I started to wonder if maybe a house snake might be a good thing for a bit. Should I put water out?
These are dangerous thoughts.
No sign the next day. Ugh. Rosco, oh Rosco. Wherefore art thou, Rosco?
The next day he turned up. Mid morning. Lots of house activity. I ran upstairs for something and when I ran back down there he was just hanging out in the living room. Well hey. How doing?
I am a little squeamish picking up snakes (I blame the brothers for this) so was much relieved when Rosco calmly glided (Wait! Did he glid?) into a cardboard box as if we had worked out the plan together.
Well yes he did pee. But that’s what they do. Probably another reason I don’t like picking them up.
His tongue was amazing. But quick. This was the best I could do photowise.
He looked better than when I’d seen him the first day and when I took him outside and held the box down he flew out and under the porch in a flash, looking none the worse for wear and hopefully pumped up on spider and bug juice.
I’d have him back.
Is that wrong?