MONROE EVENING NEWS (Michigan) 03 November 07 Close encounter with a creature (Beverly Gerber)
He had to go. Yes, he was handsome, and one of His creations, but after all, he was in MY garage. I admit it - I am a little territorial. Okay, maybe more than a little.
Here's the story. I was cleaning out my garage in an attempt, after five years, to get organized. In my grand idea for a woodshop/garage, I had to move all the yard stuff to my little barn, which means I had to first empty the barn and power wash the inside. If you have never power washed the inside of a very old barn, it is truly an experience that I now understand why it is not done often.
While working in the garage, I needed to move some wood sheeting and drywall that was too heavy to lift, so I slid them piece by piece along the wall. When I got to the last piece, I noticed what looked like a piece of black rubber cording caught underneath. I couldn't imagine what project had left such an object behind. As I reached for it without my glasses, because they were mucked up from looking up while I power washed the barn, the black cord moved. Actually it was undulating, coiling (okay, now I bet you are all squirming). There it was - a snake, and by my estimate at least eight feet long, caught under the drywall edge.
Lord, have mercy! What my friend Bill says is true - a snake does live in every wood pile. I don't like things out of order. Like mice in the house, snakes in the water or my garage. It just isn't natural.
Being a homegrown county girl, you would think that I would be more accepting to the likes of snakes. But what is it about snakes? I think nothing of scooping up countless numbers of turtles off the road and moving them out of harm's way. I am only briefly startled by a toad jumping in my path, and enjoy watching raccoons and opossum on my deck.
Birds entrapped in the garage, spitting, wild cats, even bugs and spiders aren't a threat. But this was a snake. The main feature, the creature that has caused trouble from the beginning of time.
I made a sort of corral around it till I could develop a plan, which was to take a break and call an expert. My expert lives in the hills of Pennsylvania and is in her late 70s. Kathryn is a gun totin' woman.
"Kathryn I have a snake in my garage," I mention, trying to sound causal.
"Oh, yeah, what color?"
"I think it's black."
"Hmmm ... probably just a black snake" she offers.
It was black all right. Black, with purple eyes that could hypnotize you and a bright red, forked tongue that spewed venom.
"I got a six-foot one out of my rafters in the basement not too long ago," she continued. Rafters?
Thank Goodness I don't have rafters in the garage - but the barn does.
She further added, "The other day I thought there was a big crack across the road and it was a snake."
That's my Kathryn.
"Just push it toward the door" she advised.
"But it's trapped under a board," I explained.
"Just lift the board and let it loose."
Why do things like this always sound easier when an "expert" tells you how to do it and uses the word 'just'?
One more call to a more local friend, Jim, only reminded me that I shouldn't let it suffer if it is hurt. Great. Now I had to decide if this was going to be a removal or a mercy mission.
I put on my hip-waders in case it should decide to wrap around my leg or go up my pant leg, and went back to the garage.
I peeked over the corral and decided to think about it some more while sitting in the safety of the car that was parked in the garage. Please take note in case you ever find yourself in this exact situation - it is not easy to climb into a Saturn while wearing hip-waders.
I approached it once more and have to admit the length was shrinking as my fears subsided. So now it looked more like four feet long. I nudged it with a very long, fully extended curtain rod. Yep, snake. Alive. Angry.
I was sure if I lifted the board, it would be free to slither to another part of the garage and if I slid the board, it would be further injured.
I debated the end result I hoped for. Burying a snake wouldn't be much easier than removing one.
I pried the board up and slid another piece of wood in place to keep it from crashing back down.
Unhappy with being exposed, but most likely grateful to not be held captive under the board weight, it moved further behind the board.
This was going to take some thinking. To put some time between me and the original sighting, I did just that - I thought about it some more.
I went to the barn and got my snow shovel that I had just transferred from the garage to the barn for permanent storage and eyed up the snake's size compared with the orange plastic snow shovel. Two feet. Sure was looking better than the original eight-foot estimate.
I slid a wastebasket over beside it, but decided I needed something taller in case it was one of those jumping snakes and wider because I don't have very good aim. After positioning the biggest trash can I had, I went with the practice that had worked well so far - I thought about it some more.
I wanted to be sure I had thought through all the scenarios and eliminated any possibility of error. It is not easy to scoop up a snake. Especially one that has already been somewhat traumatized. Even with a lump on its midsection, it was able to lift its head and hold a striking position.
I retreated to the car again. I decided to read a few pages of the latest novel I am reading and always carrying along.
Satisfied that I had mulled it over enough, I exited the car and peeked down at the 18 inches of creature coiled on the cement floor. With the skill of Indiana Jones, in one swift scoop, it was on the shovel and into the garbage can.
Now I had to get the can outside. I used the handles of two brooms to clamp under the lip of the can and headed outside with it outstretched in front of me. The rain had let up so I didn't feel too guilty about putting it out. I stood on a cement block (just in case) and tipped the can on its side and waited. Nothing. I tapped the end of the can with one of the broom handles.
Nothing. Finally, after another whack, I mean gentle tap, it slid out of the plastic barrel and into the weeds on the far side of my yard. Last seen, it was heading east for the woods. Last seen, I was heading west for the deck.
Beaming with country pride, I called Kathryn to tell her I had successfully captured and released the snake. I was pretty content that I had handled the situation on my own until she told me: "I wouldn't worry about it too much, it probably just came in to eat the mice in your garage."
Mice?!?!
Close encounter with a creature