Dianne:
This past mid-week was hectic. On Thursday I had an appointment in town which worked out well because we had three bantam chickens that needed a home waiting at the humane society.
As I was running out to my car I heard that hair- raising rattle and after investigating realized that we had a rattlesnake hidden under our front steps. I would stomp and he/she would rattle. I called Mark and said I had found the rattlesnake that was under my car the night before and proceeded in preparing for town.
I started loading some boxes I had to bring and there I found another sleeping snake. I let out a girlie scream and called the husband again. I stomped on the steps, yep there was the rattle, and took a shovel and lifted the boxes, yep there was the other one. I took a couple of pictures of Sleepy and went into the house. I apologized to the dogs since I would have to lock them inside while I was gone to keep them safe. When I was leaving there was the first rattler lying in the vines next to the porch. I took out the camera and shot some photos and headed on my way.
I went into town hoping that with evening the snakes would move on into the cooler weather.
When I returned home 5 hours later, Sleepy was still sleeping and after much searching I thought that the rattling snake was gone. I let the dogs out back to pee and heard the sound, I yelled for the dogs to come in, locked them up and the chase was on.
I called Mark again. He said it was going to be a late night so I knew if I wanted my dogs to have potty access, I had to get rid of these snakes. I started chasing the rattling snake with a hose, then a long pole. But he/she insisted on either our front yard or the dog yard so back and fourth I ran.
Each time the dogs would chase me through the house and sit by either door listening to me holler at the snake. I realized that to anyone who might see me, I might look crazy, and I started to laugh thinking "snakes on the plain, snakes on the plain". (Plain geography, not plane.)
Finally after hours of this, I decided that I would just catch the darned thing. I got the large white snake bucket we have for such situations and tried to get the snake into it. Over and over he/she would go under or around but never inside. My nerves were starting to fray. I would have to use the "grabber". The grabber just doesn't seem long enough to me. At 5 feet long, the metal catch-pole is made for the task but feels within striking range of a large snake.
I reached in, got the snake, was afraid that I was hurting him/her and let go. After three tries I got him into the bucket. I carefully put the lid on as much as I could and carried it out to the driveway. I piled large rocks on top of it and went to find another bucket.
Sleepy was still snoozing so I figured he would be easier. But waking up a sleeping snake is more exciting then you would think. First he bit the grabber and when I let him go he charged. He seemed extra fast but that could have been more about my nerves then his actual speed. The next time I caught him I held on, he twisted and bit and flung himself all around until I got him in the bucket. I covered the bucket with another bucket and piled the rocks on it also.
I called Mark, told him I caught both of the snakes but he would have to let them go when he got home, which he did alone while I laid on the couch with my heart pounding. In the background I could hear the crowing of one of the new bantams, a fellow we now call Buster. I had to laugh. It is a strangled little cockadoodle that ends with a squeak.



