by Lucie Elvin

Created on: February 19, 2007   Last Updated: April 18, 2007

As a born natuaralist, I hold all of God's creature in awe with the exeption of.... Snakes. Yes, I believe they deserve a capital letter. The only was I'm really comfortable observing them is when there is very thick glass between us. Yes, they are beautiful and fascinating, but do not, I repeat, do not let meet one on a hiking trail or in my garden. Al, my husband, says I've broken sound barriers with my scream. The main problem with snakes is that one moment they're not there and in an instant they are in your face. Such was the six foot long Black snake that liked to sunbathe on my garden fence in Missouri. As benign as he was, I could not get use to the surprise.

When we moved to the other side of KC, to a rural, beautiful house on the hill, I did not realize that the snake situation could only get worse. The house was situated halfway between rocky cliffs and a meandering river below us. The views and the nature were wonderful. However, I should have paid more attention to the snake skin we found hanging from the rafters of our walkout basement. It turned out that our house was situated in the middle of the local copperhead highway.

My first encounter with the above came when I started weeding the railroad ties that held up the hill and kept our house from sliding into the river. Again, there he was, in my face. After taking my husband out of some executive meeting with the "you have to come home right NOW!" message, we together attempted to extract this fellow from his nest. It turned out we were not Steve Irvin doubles. First we thought we could smoke him out. The neighbors became interested in the situation when our oil soaked railroad ties caught on fire. Then Al brought out his African acquired cane/saber.

We were in business. My last image of that snake was when he leaped out of his hole with his fangs wide open. Trust me, do not poke a copperhead with a saber. The myth that although they are vemonous, they are easy going is just that, a myth. To this day, my husband has a picture of me holding that saber with a very dead snake draped over it, on his desk. He says it's a great conversation opener.

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