After we moved in last fall, we quickly discovered that our yard was doubling as Club Med for a garden snake population. Though harmless, I wasn't fond of coming upon them by surprise each day as I gardened. Besides, we're not talking about the little six-inch snakes that couldn't even fit your pinky in their mouths. No, these guys grow closer to three feet and could easily eat my thumb. They would hang out in the yard, sunning themselves, without a care in the world. Until we moved in, that is.
Here is a brazen little couple last spring, coming up out of the parking garage, headed for the spa. They never made it. That's right, we killed them. Then we taught our children to kill them.We killed twenty-four of them before it got so hot, the survivors decided to disappear into the ground to repopulate for cooler weather. Well, it's been cooling off a bit lately and we saw number twenty-five yesterday. My kids didn't miss a beat.
Here they are discovering the first intruder of the season.
Here they are holding it down. Notice how Jonah switched weapons halfway through the slaughter.
Oh, that must have been so he could secure it better while Andy beat the crud out of it.
Bye-bye number twenty-five. And don't send me hate mail or negative comments either. I was a vegetarian for ten years which probably saved some cows, so I believe I've earned the right to kill a few snakes. Besides, we sort of live in the city and my boys need some kind of masculine outlet.