Second Snake of the Season Almost Made Me Shed My Skin - OR - Why My Hubbers Is My Hero

So. The lads and I were out early Friday afternoon looking for an escapee kitty (you know, SSPQoK) who in a fit of terror raced away to hide from the vicious nature of the neighbor's roofers taking off in their quite noisy vehicles. How's that for a run-on sentence. Anyway, between our house and our neighbors' home is a wooded lot where both of us tend to dump our yard clippings/branches/assorted cranky children. I noticed a large-ish (cat-size) hole in the piled branches and pointed it out to the tots as a possible refuge for the funny raccoon that has been prancing (I swear) in our front yard over the past few weeks. Thinking that I was being all educational and giving the boys a nature lesson on the Wonders of the Ring-Tailed Rascal (I promise that is a true "Wild America" episode title), I totally ignored the fact that we were not alone. Michael, who is less oblivious than his mother, yelled out, "Mommy! There's a snake!" Anticipating our resident llllooonnnggg black snake, I was quite startled to find that it was, in fact, a copperhead. And it was, oh, about LITERALLY two feet away from us coiled up to sun itself. "RUN BOYS!" I commanded, and then we were off to find a fearless neighbor who was willing to come take care of this little situation. And the sad, funny truth is, half of me really, really wanted to dash back inside to grab my camera for a picture for my blog. Internet, I am willing to sacrifice myself to Death By Copperhead for your viewing pleasure. I am just that sacrificial.

Alas, by the time the boys and I got back with Superwoman Fearless Neighbor (after we talked about the naughtiness of cats a bit, and she gave me a couple bags of fresh green beans, and then we talked about how her husband just lost his job), the snake had vanished. Vamoosed. Which just about "freaked me out" (as Michael told his Daddy I did) even more. At least SSPQoK had shown back up on our front porch. Sans snake bites. So. Saturday morning, I was in the house doing my charming housewifely ways to keep our home safe, healthy, and happy (read: reading in bed with my mug of yummy coffee), while Alan and the boys were outside doing their manly tasks of girth and strength (read: re-popping the camper and probably pee-ing in the weeds). Our wonderful neighbor, Mal the Psychologist, came over for Alan's assistance. It seems that he rediscovered our community copperhead in the same place as the day prior, and Mal was unwilling/unable/too grossed out to do the deed of death. Michael tore into the house yelling, "Mama! Come bring your camera! The snake is back!" (oh, they know me so well), and we all went back to check out the scene.

Now for the record, let me go ahead and say that we don't kill snakes around here willy nilly. Little Ringneck snake just went on his merry way (although my mom says never to bring that key to her house). And haven't we all heard of the wonders of the Black snake? But I don't care to hear how docile a venomous snake copperheads are supposed to be. If they are able to take down me or the boys (or heaven forbid, SSPQoK!!) then off with its head!

My totally macho hubbers grabbed a flat-head shovel and (after I took the above picture) pounded down on the snake, aiming for it's head. Alas, the snake - as you probably can see - was lying in mulch, and Alan was not able to get a very good, ummm, squeeze on him. Alan sent me to the house for the shotgun (THE SHOTGUN!) while he held down the squirming, writhing (I'm cringing!) snake. Then making use of our Teamwork Magic, I held down the shovel, and then he blasted the snake's head off execution-style. I was literally about to hyperventilate. Fortunately, Mal was hanging around for the excitement and was able to help me remember to breathe and "visit my happy place." Kidding. Kind of.

Epilogue to the saga: the (dead) snake is now hanging over a branch in the back yard to "dry out" so Matthew can "study his skeleton". Alan may be my Macho Man, but he can sure have some kooky ideas to support his kids' learning. If I get my way, our Prancy Ring-Tailed Rascal will just help himself to a tasty dinner.