I honestly can’t remember the last time I saw a snake that wasn’t behind a huge glass window or not in a zoo or something. Two of my co-workers (Juliet and India) and I were heading to lunch when I spotted a bird pecking at a curly little stick. But then the curly little stick began to move, and Juliet and I just shrieked in horror. Even as I’m typing this post, I shudder at the thought of the little garter snake. Eeeek!
My only memory of snakes is holding a garter snake when my family lived on a cul-de-sac in Missouri. My sister and I and a couple of neighbor kids just romped through yards and bushes and occasionally encountered garter snakes. I was young, fearless, and probably trying to impress the neighborhood boys. I don’t remember the exact moment when snakes turned me into a huge pansy.
As much as I dislike snakes, my co-workers and I made sure the snake in the parking lot slithered to safety before we took off for lunch. I kept a safe distance and sharp eye between me and the snake when I made my way to the office’s front entrance to inform one of the maintenance guys. And India tossed little sticks in the snake’s direction to get it to slither onto a sidewalk curb. Mission accomplished. *shudder*