I started toward the kitchen, then froze in my tracks. There it was. I knew exactly what it was, bu
The kids were finally asleep, the kitchen was semi clean and the house was quiet. This was my time. I had a pile of laundry and a bowl of kettle corn and had settled in on the couch to watch a chick flick and catch up on folding. I don’t remember what movie it was, but I remember enjoying my snack in peace, which rarely ever happened.
When the credits rolled, I stood up and decided on another bowl of popcorn. I started toward the kitchen, then froze in my tracks. There it was. A long, black object lying under my tiny dining room table. I knew exactly what it was, but my mind wouldn’t let me believe it.
You’re mistaken. There’s no way. You’re imagining this. I tried to lie to myself but wasn’t convincing enough. I slowly reached toward the pile of towels I had just folded and grabbed a washcloth that was sitting right on top. I tossed it in the direction of the table, and sure enough, the thing recoiled!
We had found a nest of Copperheads living in our backyard a few weeks earlier but thought we had taken care of them. Apparently not all of them took note of the eviction notice. And one stubborn Copperhead baby had the audacity to invade my home. He was small, but was definitely not afraid to act big. He hissed. I screamed. And the battle was on.
Of course, this happened while my husband was at work. I immediately pulled out my phone and called him. I’m not sure what I thought he could do for me over the phone, but it was my first instinct. It rang. No answer. I called again, and again. No answer. I was angry now. He never answers his phone!
(Which was of course not true but felt very real in that moment.)
If I had been home alone, I would have hightailed it out of there right then. But I wasn’t alone. My kids were asleep in the house, and my daughter would be waking up any moment now and come strolling down the hall. The snake was between my kids and me so I knew I had to do something. I couldn’t let it out of my sight. The thought of it hidden in the house somewhere completely freaked me out so I had to work with what I had on hand.
I saw a pair of my husband’s combat boots by the door and quickly put them on. They were way too big, but they felt safer than my house shoes. I tucked the hem of my jeans down inside them and scanned the room for other useful objects. A plastic container, an oven mitt and a pair of tongs. That’ll do. I also stuffed a pair of kitchen shears into my pocket and began to form a plan in my head.
I slowly approached the snake and managed to get the clear plastic container on top of it, trapping him inside. Phase 1: done! Then, I used my oven-mitt-clad hand to slowly lift the container, planning to “grab” the thing with the tongs and take it outside. And all the readers say together: Stupid! The snake attacked and bit the end of the oven mitt. I screamed, dropped the container back over him and backed up to reevaluate my amazing plan. He was mad now (nice work, TJ) and was thrashing around under the container, hissing and trying to escape. I put my foot on top of the container, just to assure myself he could not slither out from under it. Only then did I realize just how badly my legs were shaking. Resting my foot there was definitely doing more harm than good. I stepped back and tried to figure out what to do. Nap time was almost over. The clock was ticking. And my good-decision-making skills were seriously in question at the moment.
I looked around the room again and came up with a better plan. I grabbed a sheet of printer paper from my husband’s desk and carefully slid it under the container, putting it between the snake and my soon to be shampooed carpet. Then I grabbed a book from the kids’ bookshelf and slid that underneath the paper. I opened the front door and carefully carried the whole thing outside. Book, paper, snake and the container on top. The thing was thrashing around even more violently now and making no effort to hide his anger. He kept biting the inside edges of the container and hissing at me. When I reached the middle of my front yard, he thrashed so hard I screamed and tossed the whole trap out into the yard. Stupid. But my stupidity didn’t end there. Nope, I was shooting for a medal that day.
When the snake hit the ground, it immediately started digging his way into the earth. Great…he’s gone…my work here is done. That’s what I should have said to myself. But at that moment, I was filled with a (stupid) mama bear furry and was determined to make sure that thing didn’t get back into my house with my kids. He was about halfway into the ground by now. I foolishly grabbed his body with the tongs I had been carrying in my left pocket. Then, when I had a good hold on it, my right hand retrieved the kitchen shears from the other pocket. Yep. Stupid. I cut the thing in half with kitchen shears. It was the nastiest things I’d ever done, and I still have dreams about it sometimes. *shudders*
When I finally stopped shaking and realized what I had done, I just stood there in shock for a minute. When I could hear sounds other than my heart pounding in my ears, I quickly took the paper, tongs, shears and container straight to the garbage can beside the house. I would have tossed the book too had it not been one of the kids’ favorites. It got some hardcore sterilization though.
I got back into the house in time to hear my phone ringing. NOW he calls me back! I told my husband the whole story and he had the audacity to laugh at me! Not a mean laugh. More like an astonished “I can’t believe that just happened” laugh. But any type of laugh at that time was unwelcome to the woman still in shock.
I spent the rest of the day checking every inch of that house for snakes, and saw things that were not really there every few minutes. My kids and I watched a lot of stupid cartoons that day in an effort to keep them curled up in my lap on the couch rather than playing on the floor as they typically did.
When my husband came home from work, he asked about the adventure and I retold the whole story. He laughed again, and once again I wasn’t finding it amusing in the least.
That night, after putting the kids to bed and retiring to our room, my husband made his way to the kitchen for a glass of water. The lights in the house were off and he didn’t see the need to turn them on just for a drink. When he reached the kitchen, his bare foot found the bead necklace our daughter had left on the floor. My brave husband let out a scream that will forever ring in my ears as a beautiful, beautiful noise. Now I was the one laughing. =)