I Keep Seeing Snakes

On Saturday, May 19th, 2018, the world was celebrating the Royal Wedding. I had some excitement of my own, but of a very different nature. John and two of his sisters, visiting from Western New York, were attending the annual Gaithersburg Book Festival. I stayed behind with lingering bronchitis. On this cool, rainy day I did not want to be outside. Mid-morning, I was enjoying CNN’s rebroadcast excerpts from the Wedding. During a commerical break, I decided to do some laundry. After gathering the clothes, I headed to the basement.

Getting to the bottom of the stairs, I glanced down a few feet ahead of me and saw a small snake, some 8-10 inches long, that I feared was a baby Copperhead. The markings were ominously similar to those of the large Copperhead John found last year in our barbeque. Recently, Copperheads, one of several venomous snakes in Maryland, have been sited in our local area. A newspaper article last year detailing the severity of Copperhead bites for a local woman left me with the jitters.

Mentally, I went into action immediately. I thought through how to capture the snake, deciding at last to use a round two quart plastic leftover bowl. It would nicely contain the coiled creature. I also realized I needed something to allow me to get it from a distance.

At that moment, I wished I had one of those long, “pick-up” gadgets. My longest kitchen tongs are about 18 inches. They did not seem quite long enough. Yet, they were better than nothing. Looking around the basement for other potential tools, I grabbed a heavy glass lid for a large frying pan I store there. This would be my “shield” which I held in my left hand. In my right, I gripped the outside of my plastic container with my tongs and neared to the snake. I was ready for action.

When I first went into the basement, it took a minute for the the snake to realize I was there. Keeping my distance, I circled it several times, assessing the best place to effectively capture it. I planned a variation of my insect “trap & release” technique:  Place a container over a creature, slide a piece of cardboard underneath and release it outside. This technique has worked well for me – and the insects I capture – nearly 100 percent of the time.

Soon after I began circling it, the snake began to follow my movements. I felt like the proverbial snake charmer but without music. As I moved, the snake raised its head straight from its coiled body, turning and following my movements closely. Its tail rattled. It  opened its mouth wide showing its small fangs. I realized capturing a venomous snake was on another order of magnitude than capturing insects.

In the moment, I was not scared. I firmed myself mentally to overcome any lurking, primal fears. I remembered my goal of removing the snake from the house as quickly as possible. My mind turned over a number of ways to get the snake, yet none really took. I accepted the reality that this job was more than I could handle alone. With John away, I called our neighbor, an outdoorsman who I knew would be willing to help.

After explaining my plight, my neighbor arrived immediately. He wore heavy boots, and had a flashlight along with his “pick-up” gadget. “It was my mother’s,” he laughed as I expressed envy of his having such an appropriate tool for the task.

Descending to the basement, he shined his light directly at the snake. He then quickly but gingerly reached over and put the catch piece of the grabber over the snake’s neck. He looked at it more closely. “Yes,” he said. “It’s a Copperhead. What do you want me to do with it?” I put the snake’s fate in his hands and left the basement.

As my neighbor passed me on his way outside to dispose of the wriggling snake, I finally experienced a primal reaction. My body shuddered and low squeals of fear came out of my mouth. Fortunately, it lasted only a few seconds.

That Copperhead snake now owns a piece of my psyche. Going to the basement, as I do daily, I look for its relatives. I see snakes in the shadows on the basement floor. I imagine them crawling out of rolled-up carpets or other stored items. My ease of movement has changed. My literal encounter with that Copperhead lasted about fifteen minutes. Emotionally and psychically, it will be with me a lot longer.

Andrea DiLorenzo (c)

May 25, 2018