Fear is a really useful but also dangerous energy in this life. (The most obvious recent example of the bad things fear can do is the 100's of thousand deaths of innocent people caused by this stupid war brought about in fear of a vague enemy.) I have not been truly afraid for a long, long time and so this recent fear came to me as a strong jolt, and in hindsight, I am not all that proud of how I reacted.
Hubby was working down at the dock getting the boat cleaned and I had finished some errands in the house and was heading down to ask him some question. We were going to take some friends out on the boat that afternoon, and since we are all getting older, one of my routines is to pick up all the newly fallen broken sticks and branches in the path to the boat so that no one accidentally falls on the hilly path.
When I reached the dock and hubby emerged from the small boat cabin, I asked how things were going. He looked at me and asked me,
"Didn't you see the dead copperhead on the path?"
I, who had so carefully scanned each and every inch of that path picking up snake-sized sticks did not see anything out of the ordinary, and I told him that. He looked at me in disbelief wondering how I could have missed it. He explained that he had almost stepped on it as a bucket in his hand had blocked the view of the path and he immediately knew he would dispatch it with a large log by smashing the head. (Killing snakes is not nice even if they are poisonous, but he had a grandson who ran willy nilly to the dock recently, and therefore, we would not be able to sleep at night letting this pit viper survive.)
Hubby followed me back up the path to show me the location of the snake with the smashed head. We got there and we peered every which way. There was no snake. Hubby was sure he had crushed the small skull, and therefore, wondered if in the short ten minute span an animal had taken it away to eat. I said it might have been alive enough to crawl under one of the logs lining the path. We poked around another minute or so and then decided it had snuck away to die a slow but peaceful death. I turned to head back up the hill and as I got closer to the top I saw the fat fellow just a foot away. It lay right in the middle of the black sand path as still as a curved stick and looked none the worse for wear. If you have never seen a copperhead, it is truly a beautiful animal. It almost looks as though some artist had painted the coppery and grayish tones of color across its back with a brush.
But, this close encounter caused me to almost swallow my tongue as I leaped back to my husband's side. It had appeared as if by magic out of nowhere. It was fat and healthy and not moving---thank goodness. If it had been scurrying, I would have probably swallowed both my tongue and heart in fear. Hubby quickly grabbed another large piece of wood and pinned its head against the sand once again. I told my husband not to move while I hurried up the path to the garage for the shovel. When I returned he severed the head quickly with the edge of the shovel and we threw the beautiful animal into the river.
I realize that copperheads are not as aggressive as people commonly believe and that the freezing in place was its defence mechanism and that we should have just tossed him by stick into the woods to go on his way or walked widely around him. But neither my husband or I could bring ourselves to be so fair. We were frightened for our grandchildren and that deep primitive urge to protect our own rushed forward bringing with it adrenaline and no immediate regret as we ended the life of this innocent animal.
I am sad that I did this, but I also am honest with myself and mother nature, in that I would certainly do the same again.
(Seems to be an unusual amount of references to snakes, rubber and real, in my blog these days!! What's that all about?)
We rapidly dispatch all copperheads before they can dispatch us or our grandchildren. We do not blink or apologize.
ReplyDeleteKnow that you are still in danger from more of their kind, but at least you have lessened their number before they take over your entire property:-)
I also would kill one on sight, and have done in the past. Where there is one, there are more, so be on the lookout.
ReplyDeleteYou were much braver than I could ever be.
ReplyDeleteI would have been frozen in my tracks and been quite useless to do anything other than scream.
Bear((( )))
Your story brought back chilling memories of when I lived in my farmhome in the middle of hundreds of acres. A pond not far from the house and grandchildren visited often. Many times saw rattlesnakes and copperheads and then the harmeless chicken snakes that I finally learned to recognize. I understand your fear.
ReplyDeleteSo thankful for you that you spotted this creature and did not step on it.
I felt myself heat up and almost get sick at my stomach as I read this. You did the right thing. No snakes should be left where grandchildren play.
ReplyDeleteoh, i agree with kenju. i used to find snakes in my backyard and inevitably there would be more to follow. once i found many small ones (eggs hatched) crawling around the day lily bed where i was weeding without gloves. YIKES! a couple of days later a yard man who was cleaning the brush around the creek found at least 8 large ones, some sunning along the creek's edge and others resting under tree limbs which had fallen in a late spring storm. once i arrived home from work to find a cat sitting on my front porch playing with a small snake. the creek kept us stocked in snakes, song birds, frogs, opossums, raccoons, and even the ocassional great blue heron. i will never miss the snakes!
ReplyDeleteYikes. I also am queasy at the story.
ReplyDeleteIn the photo, I thought that was a shoe attached to the post! LOL! I see now that it is a light.