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May 11th 2008

Him & Her:
Lawn Serpents Strike Fear on Main St.
by Nancy and Dan Sapir

HIM: What with all the rain we’ve been having, grass is growing rapidly around the old homestead. I’m still recovering from shoulder surgery so goodness knows I can’t do it. She would never forgive herself if I plodded into such a project and re-injured the rotator cuff. Well, whom does that leave? You got it… her.

I have to admit she took on the task with great gusto at the outset, but the enthusiasm waned very quickly. You know what excuse she now uses for being unable to even start the job, much less finish it. We live right on the main road so anyone driving by can see the height of the grass. Snakes. She has always had a fear of snakes, and claims they are living in our lawn in great abundance. Keep in mind, I have never seen a snake when I did the lawn; she, on the other hand, always sees snakes. Isn’t it incredible, that once a person develops a fear, like of snakes, that they see them all the time. It’s like the snakes know you are afraid of them and decide to haunt you. It’s not like we have any poisonous snakes here in this part of the state anyway.

So that’s it. We’re supposedly overridden with snakes and our grass doesn’t get done. “You never heard the expression a snake in the grass, where do you think the expression came from” she yells. I thought it came from politics. She claims to see various varieties of snakes and she says most of them are in our front yard. She has a pair of high-powered binoculars and takes up a daily sentinel’s position at the bedroom window to scour the grass. I have to laugh at this inane ritual while she warns, “Wait until one of those things coils up at you, we’ll see how many feet you jump. You think it’s funny now, I live for the day when I’m redeemed.”

Every time I call her on the phone I pretend to be somebody else calling about the snakes. I have used the names Frank Asp, Anna Conda, Bo Stricter, Walter Moxin, and Phil Python. I’ve passed myself of as a reptilian exterminating service, a booking agent for Animal Planet and a keeper with the Franklin Park Zoo looking for acquisitions to the snakehouse. Needless to say, she doesn’t see the humor in any of my pranks. When I get home she makes me look through the front lawn asking me if I can see their snake holes. “You can’t see that we have snakeholes all over the yard” she challenges. Honestly, I see nothing. Years ago when I was way out at the far end of our yard I was burning brush and raked an area where I saw a snake. It was actually very aggressive and I think it was because its nest was disturbed. That was it. One snake in 20 years. She sees them on a daily basis, how can I take her seriously?

She now has theories as to why we have so many snakes around. One thought was that someone tossed a snake from a car, it landed in our yard, bred with the one snake I found years ago and they multiplied rapidly. Another possibility she reasons is that our house is located within some kind of migration path. Yea, that’s a good one, a migration path on Main Street. How could they be smart enough to stay in our yard and not end up as road kill? Snakes that smart should be revered not feared. Now she thinks the snakes are feeding on the inch works that have invaded our trees. “If you’re so smart you tell me why we have so many snakes” she challenges me. But keep in mind, I haven’t seen any, I have no theories and could care less if they live on our property. “That’s where you’re wrong”, she insists. “All the times the dogs are barking outside, what is it you think they’re barking at? Snakes”.

I have to wonder, do dogs bark at snakes? I may actually try to mow just the front lawn using my left arm. I want to put this snake thing to rest once and for all. Besides, snakes or no snakes, we have to eventually do the lawn. I would also love to see her embarrassment when no snakes are encountered and she is forced back into the mowing job, which is rightfully hers.

HER: Just wait until Kingston's own "Crocodile Hunter" takes his first whack at mowing the lawn in God only knows how many years. I can't wait. This is a man, who while lounging on the couch reading the papers, spots a bee and says, "Nancy, there's a bee on the window." That's my cue to grab my copy of the Ladies' Home Journal and beat the tar out of the thing.

I can never pass on my magazines because they all bear bits of remains. Once, many years ago, when my mother was visiting and a mouse darted into the house, I had to grab a Maxwell House can, chase it, and catch it.

Rotator cuff indeed. It's always something when it's time to mow the lawn. This all started about six weeks ago. I was raking leaves out front, and just as I went to take another swipe, there it was, a cocoa brown beast with black stripes, all coiled up, and my estimate is that it was about two feet long. That was it.

I threw my rake at it and left. That snake must have been pretty heavy because it left quite a dent in the soil. A week or so later, I started mowing out front and I was about to the middle of the lawn when this big fat, longish snake that looked like black jello with an underside of grayish pink darted from under the mower and scared me half to death. Now that's two good size snakes of differing varieties, and to me, that means we are infested with them.

Maybe when the new water main went in, they churned up the snakes' homes or something. I don't really know. And Dr. Dorothy Mc Farlane says we're supposed to leave them alone so they can eat mice and such, but I have a hard time seeing them as useful when they're so sneaky and ugly.

I am living for the day when he finds the time to mow. He's been putting this off like crazy, so I know he's too scared to do it. He'll squeal like a little girl when those monsters go skimming over the grass. I know he believes me because I'm always happy to do the lawn, but I'm not doing it now, I can tell you that.

I'll tie his bad arm to the handles if I have to. I'm thinking about prepping the lawn for him by driving my car all over it and just squashing those snakes. If they won't slither onto the street to die, I'll bring the traffic to them.

He can joke all he wants. Next month he'll be telling you how he wrestled a twelve foot garter snake to the ground right here on Main St. using his bad arm. Mark my words.

by Nancy and Dan Sapir