The Snake Hunter

My story today really begins about a week ago. My daughters came across a snake sunning itself in the path behind our house. They ran to get me, and I came, cell phone in hand, to take a picture of it. Poppy, our loyal dog who follows us everywhere, came also.

The snake was small and fat. I snapped a photo. I was immediately suspicious of its head shape. Instinctively I began ushering my children backward toward the house. Poppy was completely oblivious at first, actually stepping over the snake twice while walking back and forth between us and the trail. She must have been wondering why we had changed our minds about the walk.

Finally, amidst our screaming at her, she noticed the snake. She jumped back into a defensive position between us and the creature. Its head raised, her head lowered, teeth bared. In a flash, the snake struck. Poppy flinched but continued to protect us from it. The snake began to slither toward the edge of the path. I began pulling and urging Poppy in the direction of the house. I quickly sent the picture to Seth (who was an hour and a half away at school) questioning, "What kind of snake is this??"

My poor Poppy. She'd been bit right between the eyes. I dabbed her face with a paper towel to clean the blood away. We had to restrain her, because her only thought was getting back to killing that snake. My only thought was to keep everyone away from that snake.

The phone rang. Seth.

"Go get the shotgun and kill it."

"What? No! I'm not getting out guns right now," I sputtered at him. "It struck at Poppy. I'm pretty sure she's been bitten."

"All the more reason to shoot it!" Seth replied. "I showed the picture to everyone at school. It's a pygmy rattlesnake. You have to kill it. They're poisonous."

"It slithered into the brush. I'm not shooting at it! Besides, what do I do about Poppy?" I yelled at the phone. This was getting a little stressful.

"Call the vet. I'll call my mom and Steve and get them to come back over so Steve can shoot it." Seth was really intent on someone using a gun that day.

The vet informed me that I should bring the dog in--exactly the response I expected--and I stuffed everyone in the van for the quick trip down the road. Two minutes later, I get another call from Seth.

"What are you doing now?"

"Taking the dog to the vet." Obviously.

"What? Why are you doing that? Don't take her in. She'll be fine."

"You JUST TOLD ME......." I was so frustrated I couldn't finish my sentence.

"Steve's coming to kill the snake. Everyone I've talked to says pygmy rattlesnakes aren't deadly. Mr. Jerome (the neighbor) is coming over too. He says Poppy will be fine. Turn around and go back home."

Ugh. Fine. What do I know. I met my mother-in-law and her husband at the house. Free again, Poppy ran directly to the spot where she last saw the snake and began hunting it. Steve grabbed a shovel and followed Poppy into the bushes. After a minute, she began to huff and puff and poke her nose at the base of a tree, pawing and jumping back from the leaves. What a hunter! She had found it. Steve pulled back the leaves, chopped its head off, and brought it out for everyone to "ew!" and squirm over. The snake drama was over.

Poppy the brave snake hunter was fine, by the way. Her face swelled up like a dead raccoon on a hot day, but she lived.

Today, Seth decided I need some practice at getting a gun out and killing snakes. He apparently never got over the fact that no one even shot at anything that day. He also wanted to see if Poppy was "gun shy"-- to determine whether she was bothered by the sound of a gun shot and could be a good hunting dog.

First, he shot at a stump with a .22 rifle. Pop! Poppy, who had been sitting trustingly at his side, leaped into the air backwards and scrambled away as fast as possible. Hmm... Maybe it was just really surprising for the first time? We'll try again.

Seth handed me the 410 youth model shotgun. "This is your snake killing gun. I want you to practice so you'll feel comfortable shooting the next snake that comes along," he said. I rolled my eyes and took the gun from him. Poppy was looking at me warily from a few feet away while the girls petted her.

BLAM!!

The sound was much louder than the .22. My ears rang a little. The stump gained some new holes. I turned to see how Poppy had reacted.... and started laughing!

My brave snake hunting dog had run as fast as she could and stuffed her head between the a/c unit and house. And stayed there.

It took quite a bit of coaxing to get her out.


Not a hunting dog, but she's good entertainment.