You’d think my life was crazy enough, with Butterfly wandering in on a regular basis to say, “Houston, we have a problem!” This can mean anything from the wood delivery truck has gone out-of-control down the hill or she simply has a drip irrigation leak. Then Fifinella calls to say things like, “I just landed. My transponder wasn’t working. My starter was broken. So was my GPS. But the plane flew great!” Well, gee whiz, I’m so happy for her!
At any time I might check my email to find news from my crazy friend with the blog call-sign Annie Oakley. Annie Oakley is a real pistol. A gorgeous single woman living on her own piece of rural paradise, Annie Oakley is an interior designer, an accomplished photographer, horsewoman, gardener, mule trainer and snake wrangler. (Have I mentioned I secretly hate her?) Mules???!!! SNAKES????!!!! Well, she actually chooses to own mules (as if anyone can every really own a mule - it's rather like owning a cat - mostly they own you) , but she only wrangles snakes when they stumble into her territory.
Now, I like and respect and protect snakes of all kinds as much as the next person. OK, way more than most of the people all around me. I rescue them, people bring them to me to release and many folks think I am plain crazy for going out of my way to let the rattlers live. I often stop my car to push them off the road so that they won’t be run over, whereas most folks just aim for them.
So Annie Oakley is a woman after my own heart when it comes to snakes. But I think that even I would be calling for back-up if I wandered out my back door and saw what she saw one autumn morning a while back. Here’s how she told the story:
“It was late in the afternoon and I was just running out for a dinner date. They were just off the patio wall. They were in full swing and barely noticed me snapping pictures. It was fast, furious and pretty violent but beautiful at the same time, hence the bluriness of the pictures.
The problem was finding something big enough to capture them in. (The "problem" was finding something big enough to capture them???? That would have been the least of my problems! Trying to breathe and not have a heart attack would have been right at the top of my list.) Since they were entwined I was able to toss the box over them and try to tuck body parts in. (Tuck the freaking body parts in??? Excuse me while I pass out ...)
After I took them to their new home and uncovered the box they were still carrying on. After a few minutes the female(?) just decided that that was that and took off, the other just sat there wondering where all the fun went. This all happened about three months ago, and I have no idea what gestation of snake eggs is. Google thing.
It was awesome though.
I called my date and asked if I should keep them until he arrived...he thought I was nuts, no sense of adventure.” (The woman's lucky she still had a date.)
So that was last year, and having seen the “rattlers in love”, I wasn’t surprised to see this come from Annie Oakley the other morning.
“and raucous sounds of water splashing and wings flailing came early morn drifting from the pond through yon bedroom window. Even the turtle took cover.
It seemed to me a bit early in the season for the resident male Mallards to be pummeling each other for their 'fair maidens' attention. These waterfowl seemed a bit smaller in stature. To my delight it turned out to be two male Wood Ducks. Then I noticed that there were two females already present. What's the beef? Ahh ... pond turf (oxymoron?). The fracas went on for quite a while before the sensible females retired to opposite sides of the pond and the males followed. Each hopped up on the bank to calmly retire but the boys were still amped; grooming and preening; all nervous energy and posturing. Calm returned. I'm so thrilled at having such beautiful creatures grace my humble pond. Boys will be boys....
.... then on an early morning garden tour:
This might be an ominous start to a busy snake season.
This little guy was a bit chilly and looked like he could use a good meal but I have no idea what to feed a yearling rattler. None of the small lizards were volunteering.
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Just sit here for a second and say 'cheese'.
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Sit! Heel! Honestly, where is my snake wrangling book?!
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Now we need to find you a better home near the creek.
Not to worry, this little guy was so cold his tongue never even came out of his mouth.”
Yes, emails from Annie Oakley are enough to give heart attacks to mere mortals. And someone really needs to give the woman someone proper snake-handling gloves! Warning: When she shows up at your house with a delectable offering from her kitchen, or perhaps whips said treat out of her backpack at the lunch break on our regular Tuesday hikes into the wilds (one week we got homemade lemon bars from her!), you always have to wonder what, or who, last resided in Annie Oakley’s Tupperware.
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