It’s just a snake… isn’t it? ~ July 7, 1984

David Heiller

Snakes. Just the word sends a shiver up most people’s backbone.

I don’t mean that everybody is afraid of snakes. Most people aren’t afraid of snakes, once they spot them and get over the initial shiver. It’s that first sighting, when you see the grass move and the snake slither, that makes everybody jump.

This first heart-pounding surprise is what gives snakes a bad name. Take a group of kids, and put a snake in their midst, and that snake’s future will be gravely in doubt. I remember when I as about 12, some younger kids caught a big water snake by the river, carried it up to Main Street, and proudly killed it for all the town to see. I saw it, and yelled at them. “Why did you have to kill the snake?” They looked at me like I was crazy. “It’s just a snake,” they mumbled.

Of course, the other strike which snakes have against them is that some are dangerous. Marlin Perkins will testify to that—remember that Wild Kingdom episode when a python nearly squeezed him to death in an African swamp?

(I presume there were some people off-camera watching very closely, waiting for a signal to come to the rescue. Plus he had good insurance from Mutual of Omaha.)

Grandma Schnick

    There aren’t many pythons in Minnesota, but there are rattlesnakes. In southeastern Minnesota, where I spent my first 17 years, rattlesnakes were killed every summer. For all the running I and my cousins did in the hills and woods, it’s surprising we never stumbled upon one. The only one I saw in the wild happened to meet me right in town, in July, 1969. I had just finished mowing the parsonage lawn, and was heading home, when I nearly stepped on a large timber rattler. It was a mottled brown, about 18 inches long, just lying there uncoiled. I thought about letting the snake go on its way, but the sound of kids playing a block away ended that idea. A well-aimed shovel put the snake in the dump, and gave me a trophy of nine rattles.

My Grandma Schnick has always warned about snakes. She will be the first to admit that snakes are her least favorite creature on earth. Anytime anyone goes hiking in the woods, she says, “Now you just take a stick with you, for snakes.” Then she usually follows that advice with the most recent rattlesnake story to drive home her point.

Grandma and my mother came up for a visit last week. It was a pleasant three-day stay. On Saturday, we went to the Duluth Zoo, and happened to see two snake exhibits. One of them had about 10 snakes in a large cage. The snakes were lying on top of each other. You could see Grandma shiver, even on the other side of the thick glass walls.

Oh, the outhouse!

    When we got back home from the zoo, I started working in the kitchen, while Grandma went to use the outhouse (we have no indoor bathroom). After just a short time, I heard a fast pounding on the door. There stood Grandma. “David, grab a stick, there’s a snake in the outhouse,” she said in a very urgent tone of voice.

I carried the broom which I was holding and pounded down to the outhouse. I had no intention of hurting the garter snake, and Grandma knew it. Still, I peeked into the small room, spotted a rusty old coffee can, and jumped back, heart pounding.

“Did you see it? Is it there?” Grandma asked.

“No, it’s just a coffee can,” I answered, sheepishly.

Of course, the snake had long gone. Still it was a snake, and it reminded me of all this. I must admit that I still like to carry a stick with, me when I walk in the woods. Even though there aren’t any poisonous snakes around here. Are there?