If you saw someone standing near the woods rinsing off a bloody shovel you would probably assume the worst, right? And if you saw a nun doing this? Well, to anyone who may have seen me doing this yesterday, I would like to reassure you: it was only snake blood.
Yes, that’s right snake.
Did I mention there was a snake in our backyard?
We had every intention of posting about Bl. John Henry Newman yesterday, but were forced to abandon writing due to our scaly visitor, a coral snake.
I’m not sure how I ended up with the shovel in my hand – it’s certainly not because I’m the fastest; maybe because I was the only one in flip-flops, and of course you’re always supposed to wear open shoes when dealing with poisonous snakes. (That is what they said in school, isn’t it?) Maybe they thought I would make a good assassin?
Well, whatever it was, I did manage to dispatch the unfortunate creature. This wasn’t the first time we’ve seen the snake, just the first time we managed to get him before he slithered away.
From what I understand, coral snakes are kind of shy, but we were worried about our dog, who was very interested in getting acquainted with this snake. I’m no biologist, but I do know that warm fuzzy animals and cold, scaly, venomous animals do not mix well.
My grandmother is a tough German farm girl from the Hill Country (that would be the Texas Hill Country for those of you non-Texans) and I remember, as a kid, watching through the window as she chopped the head off a coral snake with a hoe. I hope I would have made her proud yesterday, although I have a feeling that, even in her 80s, she could have taken him out faster than I did.
Sorry, we would have posted a picture of him (when he was still in one piece, of course) but we were too busy freaking out to get the camera.