One of my first writings

Here is a story that I published long ago. It still makes me smile.

THE NECESSARY BUT GENTLE DEPORTATION OF THELMA S. NAKE

She lay there on the rock, warming herself on a sunny spring day.  Her black sleek body stretched lazily at least seven feet across the grey granite.  Bulges popped out from her midsection, patterned in a diamond design, and I concluded she had possibly just recently finished a meal of some live morsel.  ‘She’ is a black rat snake.

Since our house is built on a huge rock outcropping, we have concluded we live on the ancestral home of black rat snakes.  Every spring and summer the long wriggling creatures roam our property, sometimes stretching their long bodies across our lane, occasionally thinning out the rodent population and frequently scaring the daylights out of me!  I’ve tried to reason with the slithering creatures, but to no avail.  My snake screams echo off the lakeshore, alerting Dick to the latest sighting. 

I have to confess.  I don’t like snakes!  But I don’t want to kill them.  Oh no.  That would leave me with an over-population of chipmunks, mice and voles.  Plus I realize black rat snakes are classified a protected species.  So, I tolerate the snakes and keep wishing they would just keep their distance.

Several years ago I was making the bed in our sleeping cabin and flipped up the pillow.  Curled up underneath the pillow slept a small black rat snake.  I screamed (of course).  But the snake did not move.  I laughed and thought, “Oh, that husband of mine.  He played a trick on me and put that fake plastic snake there to scare me.  Wait ‘til I see him!”  I went to grab the snake and then I really screamed.  The snake moved.  Needless to say, the bed was left unmade.  When Dick got home from his errand I told him about the snake in the cabin and begged him to get rid of it (take it to a new home).  By now the snake was curled up above the doorframe.  Dick said, “You pin him to the ground with a rake after I flip him down.”  You can guess how successful that was.  More screams and the little snake slithered away into the woods.

We’ve even had the creatures inside our house!  One in the upstairs shower, one in the basement and two curled in our kitchen!  Fortunately these were baby snakes, but I couldn’t help but worry about the rest of the litter.

So, here she was.  Another year and another snake. 

I emailed our grandson, Will, describing the creature and giving him a daily posting of the snake’s whereabouts.  For fun, I named her Thelma.  Will and I agreed, such a silly name for a snake. 

And then last week, I found Thelma with another snake.  Whereas Thelma is long, large with those mid-section bulges, the newcomer is a little shorter and leaner.  I named him Theodore.  (Why not?)  Thelma and Theodore stretched out their long bodies, intertwining and slithering all over the rocks, heads in tandem, oblivious to us spectators.  I concluded they were enjoying a private moment and would definitely have a family in due time.  (Where were all those babies going to live?)

Theodore disappeared after that and Thelma and I began a week of mutual respect and consideration.  Not knowing the usual gestation for snakes, but having worked as a nurse in labor and delivery, I knew this female certainly deserved privacy without outside intrusion.

Yesterday, however, Thelma crossed the line.  I had just grabbed the end of the garden hose to water my newly planted annuals, when I noticed a black stick against the outside wall of the house.  My head lifted, my eyes following the wood shingles when I suddenly realized I was looking directly into Thelma’s staring eyes!  My blood-curdling scream reverberated across the length and breadth of Sand Lake, bruising my vocal cords and leaving me shaking with horror. 

“Thelma has to go,” I stammered as Dick grabbed his work gloves. 

Dick is very good about snakes.  He knows how to hold them, not harm them, and shows no fear.  Certainly, not like me!

After a perfect photo op, he took Thelma for a ride with him on the ATV.  She is now establishing her new home in a luxurious woodsy area in an undisclosed location, hopefully contented with her newborn family.  Though I was willing to act as midwife, Thelma preferred ‘au naturel’.  I respect her for that.  And, I think for all concerned, Thelma and I are happier living at a distance.