Friday, June 05, 2020
Lazy Man, Inadvertent Trap
A couple of
days ago, hurrying to go to town for a dental appointment and a full day of
errands and outings, I spotted a familiar scene: an adult blacksnake, deeply enmeshed in the
birdnetting from our blueberries, which I had carelessly left in corner by the
wine cellar after removing it from the bushes last fall (or was it early this
spring? I usually arrive at such tasks
late). The scene was familiar, because a
few years ago, while working in the garden, I smelled something rank and
spotted the same scene, only that time the poor creature was dead.
This fellow
was not, and I knew it had not been there long, having just spotted its molted
skin (yes, I jumped) in the cellar the day before. He looked at me with great steadiness and
patience. I had only twenty minutes left
before we had to leave, and was on my way to cut some limbs that had fallen on
our road, so we could drive easily. I
knew that I could just make my way around them, and had to quickly decide: free
the snake or clear the limbs. Looking at
how many netting squares it had snaked itself into, I realized that my method, cutting
each thread, tightly constricting the snake’s body, with scissors, would
require more time than I had. Reluctantly, I walked away, with a word of
apology to the blacksnake, which made me feel silly. I wanted a reptile to realize I had good
intentions, and even more, to tell myself I remained a good person, despite my
negligence.
We got back
too late that night for me to check on the snake. The next morning, I had my usual cup of
coffee, then made myself breakfast before I realized that the poor trapped
fellow was still out there, helplessly entwined. I ate quickly, then went out with my scissors
to see what I could do. I cut one
thread, right up against the bulging body of the creature, and realized this felt
like a Herculean labor, aided by the patience of Psyche.
So I phoned
a young friend who has the ability to do everything, and do it well, calling
him “Superman.” His answer was that snakes
were his kryptonite, and that he had an online class coming up shortly. I immediately remembered a workday at his
house a couple of weeks ago when he was very wary of a blacksnake he had
encountered while raking leaves, more focused on his personal safety than all
the rodents this benevolent snake would remove (the house has a history of
infestation). “Why don’t you take it
down to the gardeners at camp?” he suggested.
Which is
what I did. At the camp, one of the
gardeners hopped on his bike to go get some fine scissors, while the camp
director approached to see what was up.
He quickly appraised the situation, saying the exact same thing had
happened twice before at the camp, gesturing to the nearby steps where this scene
had occurred the previous year. I helped
(modestly) him hold the snake while he patiently snipped the netting away,
square by square. When the snake was
freed, s/he crawled directly towards me, pausing at my feet, as if to acknowledge
my gift. Then s/he turned and slithered
away from the three of us. There would be some scarring in the area near the
throat where it was most tightly bound, but it was essentially healthy.
I don’t know
what a herpetologist would say about the snake acknowledging me, as it seemed
to do. If it were simply a matter of
fight/flight reptilian behavior, it would have slithered away from us
immediately. Coming to “pay respects” to
the hapless fellow who had a heart for its existence, but no dexterous skill,
required a detour. Of course, I will never know. But after two such incidents, one fatal, I
commit to carefully bundling and storing the birdnetting henceforth. Every creature counts, and the stakes are
rising at least as sharply as the climate curve.
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