Snake Killer. It was written in the dust that caked the rear window of my Dad’s car. My brother, Chris, had rescued Andy from a snake that unintentionally found itself under Andy’s foot as he exited the truck.
Now there was no way for that snake to know that we had just finished a long weekend of fencing. Or that we were headed down to the creek to try out the new ammo. It was just slithering along enjoying whatever it ate to make that bulge…
Wrong place, wrong time.
I thought snakes were supposed to scurry away from loud noises. Are you telling me that the snake couldn’t tell that a 5,000 pound truck was coming?!
What chance to do I have then, in the future, when I am just walking through the pasture?
This new incident has taken my carefully repressed thoughts of what is to come when living on the farm, and slammed them into the forefront of my mind causing severe whiplash.
You mean there is nature…actual wild animals…on my beautiful land?!