Word of the Day: Snake
I grew up in a small valley surrounded by woods. Our little house sat down about a mile and a half of dirt road. Our property consisted of a sizable yard and a large field separated by what could be described as a large ditch or small creek. Tall trees lined either side of the creek and it stretched out past our property line and disappeared into the woods beyond an outhouse we used for storage. I played up and down the run of the creek searching for cool rocks and sticks and would also float my dad’s empty beer cans when the water rose after a good rain.
Dad cautioned me, though, about snakes in the creek and I happily heeded his advice. Copperheads sometimes patrolled there and I wanted no part of those monsters, especially after finding one of our beagle puppies dead from a rattlesnake bite. King snakes and garters would slither around and I learned to spot those, so no worries from them. One breed, though, truly scared me even though, to this day, I’ve never seen one.
The blue racer.
I had read a book on snakes that I had checked out from our bookmobile and was mortified to learn that the blue racer was very fast. Even though they shied away from humans, I just knew my life would end because a rogue blue racer would chase me down and swallow me whole. I didn’t want to have to explain that to my dad.