Spiders and Snakes
It never fails – every year, around Mother’s Day weekend, rattlesnakes start popping out of their underground dens and begin slithering, with reckless abandon, around the forest floor in search of small prey and humans brandishing weed trimmers. And this year was no exception, as one of the slimy serpents (Yes, I realize they’re not really slimy, I just enjoy maligning their despicable character…same goes for spiders) presented itself, in a most menacing stance, all curled up before me and ready to strike. Needless to say, I don’t like spiders and snakes.
“I don’t like spiders and snakes and that ain’t what it takes to love me, you fool, you fool. I don’t like spiders and snakes and that ain’t what it takes to love me like I want to be loved by you.” (“Spiders And Snakes” – Jim Stafford -1974)
Not one to miss out on a photo op, I slowly backed away from him, or her, and ran like a bat out of Hades back to the house to grab my camera and BB gun, just in case I needed to defend myself. Upon my return, I zoomed in my lens and snapped a photo of the menacing denizen before the cowardly curmudgeon crawled back into the forest. He or she is lucky I didn’t plug it right between the eyes with my trusty Daisy Red Ryder. Awfully violent for a nonviolent fellow like me.
Whilst running my weed trimmer a few years ago, I snagged one of those suckers when it got caught up in the plastic trimline and spun it around like a whirling dervish (whatever that is) until a piece of its head went flying right past my head…pretty scary, eh.
My Komfort Kitty, Boris, may he rest in peace, had numerous encounters with baby rattlers (not the ones that babies rattle) over the years. Being a natural-born killer, he would stalk them when they came slithering into the backyard and then pounce on them and grab them by the neck (not sure where a snake’s neck starts or ends) and hold onto them until they perished, then leave them on my doorstep so I’d know what a good boy he was.
Boris, who didn’t die from a snakebite, actually died of old age. He was a known communist…well, his stepbrother, who is still with us, is named Vladimir, which is proof enough of his communist leanings. I, too, would prefer to die from old age, rather than from a snakebite…not anytime soon, though. Well, it’s time to get back to my weed trimming; wish me luck.
“I don’t like spiders and snakes and that ain’t what it takes to love me, you fool, you fool. I don’t like spiders and snakes and that ain’t what it takes to love me like I want to be loved by you.”
Keep it flyin’ Uncle Mott