Snakes. Are. Gross.
Now, I can't say that we killed the one we saw, because that would be against the law in Pennsylvania. But we did see one. A big one. A big discusting one. I almost stepped on it. Then I spent the next 30 minutes screaming.
Luckily Ernie was putting away the 20 foot long tree trimmer. So he cornered it. He held it down while I stood up on the front porch screaming "Don't Kill It!".
Ernie was like "What the hell do you want me to do with it?". I couldn't come up with an answer to that one. It was squirming it's way towards the house. This is not acceptable.
Against my will, I got the shovel from the back of the truck and took over the tree trimmer position. I closed my eyes and screamed while Ernie repeatedly told me "Don't look, don't look, don't look". Since I wasn't looking I have no idea what he actually did with that snake (*wink*). But when I opened my eyes it was gone.
I couldn't relax the remainder of the weekend. I had nightmares about snakes in the house. I was convinced there was one living in the plumbing, just waiting for one of us to be on the commode to strike. As far as I am concerned snakes are like roaches, if you see one there are a thousand more that you don't see. Just waiting to do their snake thing.
I decided that I didn't like the Country House anymore. I mean, I like having a house in the country, if only the Bears, Bobcats and Snakes would stay in the Woods. The cleared areas should be for people only. Maybe bunnies, racoons and opossums (thank you Anne for that spelling correction) can come out for a visit once in a while, turkeys too. But I didn't invite the scary animals over for tea. How rude of them to intrude on my voluntary seclusion? My in-laws have been informed that they can live at Adzentoivich Woods as long as they wish once they come back to PA. I will gladly limit my farm visits to once a month or so.
Now, I know I am over-reacting. Of course. But I am in way over my head here with this whole wilderness thing. I didn't realize I was so urbanized, but I have to admit that I am. There was nothing I wanted more than to run back to Brooklyn after the snake incident. But the telling part of the story is that I didn't. Instead, the next morning I donned my steel-toed Dairy Boots and went out to the Orchard to work. I did watch my step, but I didn't give into the fear.
Take THAT Snake-man!