Black Snake Crossing



I just happened to look up and see Olive out on the drive, giving this stately black snake the business as she was trying to cross the drive to the lush, mouse-filled expanse of weeds and wilds below the house.

I grabbed my broom and trotted out to the rescue.

Olive was willing to be moved a few feet back, and I stood there, saying inane things like, “Safe to cross, now, get on with it,” and “Go ahead, ma’am,” and “Whenever you’re ready,” while the unconcerned black snake sunbathed.

Olive crept forward.

Sighing, I scooped up the cat and carried her inside, and she draped herself over the back of the couch where she could watch the proceedings through the picture window.

I went back out to persuade the snake to move on over, out of the yard and into the field. “Lots of yummy rodentia over there,” I crooned. “It’s like Mouse Disneyland down in that field! And they’re fat! Too fat to even scamper.” I prodded her tail very gently with a stick, and she slowly curled back to gaze at me.

“I know, I sound like a marketer,” I admitted.

I walked back into the house for a chair and something to read. We might be here a while. I went back out, settled down a few feet away, and opened my book. At which point she deemed it a good time to go ahead and (slowly) cross the drive into the field.

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