Nobody's neutral when it comes to slithering reptiles. I found this out after I blogged on The Garden Buzz about the snake that sullied my little backyard Eden last week. Emotions ran high in both directions; splitting 50/50 on serpent tolerance.
I wrote that while I grew up on the California coast where rattlesnakes outnumbered surfboards, I still couldn't come to grips with the seemingly innocent garter snake that suddenly appeared at my feet the other day. In spite of the wood/wetland/water habitat that surrounds my home, I hadn't seen a snake so far, and until that fateful moment among the raspberries, wanted to believe I lived in some sort of magical snake-free zone.
I go to great lengths to make sure I don't run into snakes. I know where they like to hang out; cooling off in deep mulch, sunning on rocks, and foraging under rotting logs. I tread lightly in such situations. But it was just a matter of time before one crossed my path.
In my blog I acknowledged that I was aware of the ecological benefits that they provide; eating rodents and insects. I jested that there are plenty of hawks that perform that same service without the creepy behavior. I joked about my obvious hypocrisy when it came to all my talk about wildlife habitat. And still the pro-snake lobby came down hard on me. Who knew there were so many staunch snake defenders?
I had some readers lamenting their garden's snake shortages and I kind of wished we could arrange a sort of big snake swap.
One frequent reader gave me quite the dressing down on my anti-snake stance. I reassured her that no snakes were harmed in the writing of that blog. OK, a few dirt clods were thrown in his general direction to hint of my herpetological leanings. For the record, he (and I hope he was a he and not a she with babies) appeared unfazed. No one seemed concerned for the cold chills and palpitations I experienced.
She let me know in no uncertain terms that the snakes were entitled to their place on earth as much as myself.. Eventually I found out that she had rescued a garter snake, named him Ringo and developed quite a bond with the striped reptile. He had recently died and she was grieving the loss quite deeply. Although I had to question his happiness at living out his life in a glass box. Who knew there were so many gray areas with these cold-blooded guys?
Then there were just as many snake scaredy-cats sharing my aversion to the scaly fellows; commenting with adjectives such as shivering and chilling to describe the visceral reactions to such nightmarish animals in our midst.
