By Jeremy Varner
To leave the kitchen of my grandmother’s Dekalb County ranch home and go to the backyard you would have to walk through the carport and the wooden gate that led to the yard. As you went through that gate, on your left-hand side, propped up against the house, was a hoe. That hoe was there my entire childhood. It never moved and had one sole purpose in life. She did not use it in a garden, and she did not use it to control weeds in the flower beds. It was a snake-killin’ hoe.
I never saw a snake in that yard, not-ever, and it was not for lack of adventure. My brother and I once dug a hole behind the old shed, which was next to the new shed my grandfather built, and found an old rubber toy knife my dad must have buried or lost 30 years before. But I never saw a snake. My grandmother claimed to have killed one once and that was enough experience to reserve one hoe for easy access when an emergency arose. I do not know if that hoe ever saw action other than that first time, she claimed to have used it. It sat by the gate with the steel blade getting rustier and the wood handle getting drier and rougher every year until she had to move into assisted living. Stay ready, you cannot be too careful.
I got a lot of stuff from my grandmother, but one thing I missed out on was the fear of snakes. I have always found them to be cool and fascinating. I have always liked a zoo’s reptile house, especially when they had a zookeeper holding a snake you could pet. The stereotype is that they are slimy or somehow feel like a fat worm, but the truth is they are smooth, dry, and mostly muscle. When you hold one, you are keenly aware that this is a critter of consequence. Still, they are a pleasure to hold. In my youth I caught a water snake during a canoe trip on the Chattahoochee River. The snake was hanging out on a rock in the middle of the river, and I snatched him up. After letting everyone in our group pet him I let him go, but it was fun to have a pet snake for 10 minutes or so.
This summer I have made new snake friends without having to leave our yard. First was a Brown snake (Storeria dekayi) I found in the leaves and yard clippings as I was cleaning up after yard work. These are the most common snakes I’ve seen in Grant Park, and I usually see a few each summer. They are very small for a snake, and I always think they are gigantic earthworms when I first see them, but nope, they are cute, friendly snakes. They are not venomous and I like to pick them up, but I will let you make your own risk assessment with wildlife. Unfortunately, I most frequently find them with the weed eater and I only see them after I have hit them with the line. It is not a pretty sight. My apologies to Gaia and Pachamama.
My second snake friend was a Black Rat snake (Pantherophis alleghaniensis). He was just hanging out on an old concrete grill pad in the back yard. They are also not venomous, and as the name suggests they can be handy controlling pests. They are slender snakes but can be pretty long, with the longest getting to 6 feet. This one was between 4 and 5 feet, but I did not have time to get a tape measure. After a brief interaction he decided he had better head back to the monkey grass and get away from the big folks. I haven’t seen him since. I wish I had picked him up.
I understand some of my grandmother’s fear of snakes. It is a common fear and not without cause. Some snakes are venomous and can do major damage or kill you. They are quiet and usually well camouflaged so you don’t see them until you are right up on them. They are different. They are cold-blooded. They do not have legs. They go around licking and tasting everything. They lay eggs, but weird leathery eggs. We carry deep cultural lore warning us of their danger. They are not like us. So, I get it.
But I cannot help finding them totally fascinating. What is it like to see the world from the ground? How nice is it to slide away when unwanted visitors come around? What is it like to sleep through the winter? How good does it feel when they shed their old skin? Is it better than having a lady with long fingernails gently scratch your scalp? They are not like us. So, what is that like?
Fictional coach Ted Lasso liked to share a quote from Walt Whitman, “Be curious, not judgmental.” Based on a short internet search it seems dubious that Walt Whitman ever said it, but a lot of folks like to say he did. Either way it is a great approach to the unknown. Ask questions before making conclusions. I am not saying you have to kiss a snake or that there is never a need for a hoe by the backdoor. I am just asking that you only swing the hoe if the snake tries to attack you. When you see one, just watch it for a little bit. Ask it how it is doing. My guess is it will just slide away, and you can both go on in peace. And can’t we all use a little more peace?
For more snake info check UGA Herpetology at https://srelherp.uga.edu.
