Halloween Eve

What are the chances on the eve of Halloween to almost step on a big snake in the park at dusk? After I gathered my wits, I actually looked around to see if anyone had planted it. It was big, colorful, and looked kinda dead. I looked around for a stick to move it just in case it was only sluggish from the chilly day we'd had. Luckily, Henson was busy out at the end of his leash and remarkably, missed the whole thing. It was in fact alive, although it looked like it had a dent in its side and its head, which I'd thought might have been squished was just an interesting dark blue.

When I touched it, it moved, albeit in slow mo. That gave me pause, but I explained I had to get it off the asphalt path and into the safety of the leaves so it wouldn't get further damaged. It flattened itself out, effectually doubling its size, and writhed a little to the left and then a little to the right, half-heartedly acting as thought it would strike if it felt better. Mission (or rescue) accomplished, we went on.

The park was nearly deserted, with only a few other dog owners and some frisbee golf enthusiasts out. It was easy to hear the birds conversing, the distant roar of the waterfalls over the dams, and the squirrels rustling and rifling through the piles of fallen leaves. The deer were silent though, and barely stood out from the gloom. We walked right up on a buck as we cut through the woods. We all stopped and stared at each other. He was young, only two points, but regal none the less. The hound was dying to chase the hart, and I had to walk for a ways with his leash wrapped around my waste so he wouldn't pull my shoulder out. My right arm is already longer than my left!

Finding the snake reminded me of the time Fergus and I were walking the upper trail along the river (people around here call it a creek, but it's too big and mighty for that; there's been a full grown tree, roots and all, caught in one of the dams for days that came down the river in last week's torrential rain storms). It was early spring and we were passing an area were the bases of the trees were covered with old leaves recently free of snow. I noticed Ferg's ears prick and he tilted his head toward the leaves. I could hear rustling and something else myself, so I took a closer look and got a better hold on his leash just as we both realized it was dozens of writhing garter snakes. They were all about the same size, not real little, but not looking full grown. They looked more like they'd just stopped hibernating and were selecting mates. Ferg would have loved to dive in to catch a few and I could picture him grabbing several in one mouthful and giving them a shake. They were hissing and tangling and untangling with each other, gliding over and under the leaves, completely and seriously absorbed with checking each other out. Except for one. He or she came slithering over to Ferg, raised itself up like a Cobra, hissed loudly, and attempted to strike, several times. Thems fightin' words to a terrier, but by this time he was all reeled in, his leash wound around and around my arm. We backed up a little, but didn't back off until I felt like I'd seen enough to remember it forever. That was a once in a life time find!