Watch the Grass

Have you ever had positive feelings about something until encountering a reason to be leery of it?

Did you back away or take a different path?

Not only that, did you sound the alarm for others to follow suit?

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A Snake in the Grass

I changed course and sounded the alarm upon coming face to face with a snake in the grass. To be clear, I’m not speaking idiomatically about a bad person who strives to appear good while preparing to strike. No, I’m talking about an actual serpent that had the audacity to slither across my front lawn in broad daylight, abruptly halting a casual stroll to the mailbox.

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Since that fateful moment, I have not been the same!

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You might be wondering:

·????? What kind of snake?

·????? Was he venomous?

·????? Did he strike?

·????? Did we need to call 9-11?

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The truthful answer, according to expert sources, is that the trespasser was a rat snake, deemed a harmless and beneficial variety. My primary authority, a friend who is certified to identify the many species in our region, narrowed down the possibilities based on my description. (Having screamed and dashed to the house, I lacked visual evidence to show him.) Thankfully, I readily found an image of a rat snake on an official website to verify that the one I’d seen sported the same black skin and yellow diamond pattern. Nevertheless, the photo alone sent shivers down my spine!

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Okay, so he wasn’t venomous, and I possibly frightened him as much as he scared me. Minutes later, when my husband came to my rescue and went looking for him, the snake was nowhere in sight. He likely escaped down a hole.

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To comfort me, my snake-certified friend said that the reptile would be inclined to leave our property and return to a nearby farm after filling his belly with rodents and scaring off the rest. But what about my nightmares of snakes—here, there, and everywhere? Apparently, they were justified.

My friend stated that snakes were everywhere, albeit usually out of sight. Rest assured, he added to instill calm, the black-skinned ones (and most others) in our vicinity were harmless. Our neighbors who lived beside a creek and woods, however, should be wary of copperheads.

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Rest assured?

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That would be impossible!

A childhood incident possibly intensified my aversion to snakes. In charge of supervising my sister and me as we played outside, our short-lived babysitter spotted a snake in the yard. She let out a bloodcurdling scream and ran into the house, leaving the two of us, traumatized by her reaction, to fend for ourselves.

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In any case, as far as I’m concerned, words like rest assured, harmless, and beneficial have no relevance to snakes. Any creature that can cause heart-stopping fear is dangerous. Further, while my husband’s sentiment towards the moles who were tunneling throughout the yard and dining on his flowers was good riddance, I was thinking, poor little things. If given the choice, I’d adopt a mole as a pet before touching a snake with a ten-foot pole!

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My tenth-grade biology teacher would affirm that I’m not exaggerating.

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Before class one day, some boys had placed a snake specimen, jarred and preserved in formaldehyde, under my desk. After pointing it out to me, they had a good laugh watching me rocket from my seat into the hallway. Thankfully, the toppled jar didn’t break, but another teacher passing by at that moment was not pleased. I don’t know where our biology teacher had been, but learning of the incident, he made it his mission to cure my phobia.

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Convinced that I simply needed to get acquainted with one of his cold-blooded pets, he introduced me to a grass-green baby garden snake. I genuinely wanted to give the creature a chance. It looked innocent enough. Therefore, although my hand was shaking, I prepared to seal the deal by touching it with my index finger. Ultimately, it twisted in my teacher’s hand, and I couldn’t bring myself to make contact. (I earned an A in biology that year, but the exposure therapy was a big, fat failure!)

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Admittedly, instead of taking an attitude of they are more afraid of you than you are of them, I let my phobia lead me down a crazy path. Besides closing all doors to the house instantly after entering and exiting, I was staying off the grass. To collect the mail, I was donning my running shoes and surveilling the lawn before sprinting to and from the mailbox in record time. I further warned my neighbors, especially those living adjacent to the creek and woods, to watch the grass.

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I repeatedly cautioned one family to close their garage door. Seeing their garage open (with plenty of places for a snake to hide) concerned me each time I walked past their house with my dog. “Yes, I know,” the mom said, telling me she wasn’t a fan of snakes either. Unfortunately, however, her young daughter, who often exited via the garage to take out their puppy, could not reach the control switch to lower the door. On the bright side, their frequent visitors had been king snakes, also harmless and beneficial, as they consumed copperheads!

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Eventually, to enjoy the great outdoors, I had to stop telling myself that snakes were everywhere. Granted, I’m aware of a possible encounter but a little less paranoid. Hopefully, I’ll forget about them entirely.

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I’ve also stopped sounding the alarm. The people I deemed most important to inform have received my message, and it’s up to them to use the news as they wish.

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When to Take a Step Back

We all face drama. As we embark on a campaign of telling ourselves and others why we should be concerned, we can benefit from taking a step back to reflect on what we've observed before reacting. After, even if an extreme response seems justified to us, we need to make peace with the notion that some will not see it our way and and then leave them to remain comfortable right where they are.?

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Sallie W. Boyles, a.k.a. Write Lady

Thoughts or questions? Please contact Sallie Boyles, owner of Write Lady Inc., to exchange ideas about effective communications and gain from professional writing and editing services. Receive monthly tips and insights by subscribing at https://WriteLady.com.

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