Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, August 7, 1994 TAG: 9408080016
SECTION: CURRENT PAGE: NRV-2 EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY
SOURCE: Steve Kark
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
The dogs tangled with a skunk a couple weeks back. Although most of the stink has worn off by now, every once in a while you catch a whiff on really hot days. It slips in there with the heat and the humidity and lays on you like an old wool blanket.
At the peak of mole season, the cats have abandoned the hunt and retired to a shady spot under the deck chairs. They lie there immodestly stretched out, bellies up and legs spread, hoping to catch a breeze off the hillside. Even a sparrow stealing a stray bit of cat chow fails to draw their attention.
You can imagine my surprise, then, when on a recent afternoon I happened to glance across the yard to see Sparky, our most adventurous cat, nose to nose with a snake, both weaving and poking like all get out. The snake was hissing something terrible, and I worried that the stupid cat might have bitten off more than he could chew.
I knew there was a possibility that the snake could be poisonous. One bite from such a snake and no matter how many of his nine lives he had left, Ol' Sparky would've coughed his last hairball.
Rushing to the scene of battle, I realized that dressed in short pants and flip-flops I wasn't exactly prepared for such an encounter myself. And unlike the cat, I've already burned through a hefty portion of the only life I have left. Favorite cat or not, Sparky would have to hold his own for a while.
For its part the snake kept coiling in on itself and trying to back off and be shut of the whole situation, but the cat would have none of it. He wanted a piece of the snake and was on him like a duck on a June bug.
For once even the dogs - generally in the thick of things themselves - had the good sense to stand clear. Our chocolate lab looked up at me as though to say, "Nuh uh, Not me! I don't fetch no stick that wiggles and bites!"
Meanwhile, the battle between Sparky and the snake continued. Only by this time, the snake had decided on a more aggressive strategy. He raised up and flattened his head and began weaving back and forth in front of the cat, looking for all the world like a cobra from one of those Indiana Jones movies.
Whoa boy! Without pausing to think, I dashed off and armed myself with the first weapon I could find, which happened to be my wiener-roasting stick from the toolshed.
What a spectacle we must have been. Two dogs, two cats, and me in short pants and flip-flops, armed with my wiener stick, all circling this poor snake.
Just as we were closing in on him, he flipped over on his back, let out a final gasp and laid there in the dust with his tongue hanging out. Facing those kind of odds, who could've blamed him for having a case of bad nerves?
The cats and the dogs, naturally, lost all interest when the snake went belly up. They soon returned to their shady retreats on the back deck.
By this time, I had a pretty good idea of what kind of snake we'd been dealing with. And as I sat there a while longer, my suspicions were confirmed when the snake rolled over and slithered away, apparently none the worse for all the commotion.
Checking my Peterson's Guide, I found it identified as the nonpoisonous eastern hognose. Sure enough, when disturbed, this snake will puff up and try to intimidate its opponent into backing off. And if that doesn't work, the hognose is not above ``playing possum'' until the threat has passed.
Talk about your anticlimatic endings. It seems I got all worked up over nothing.
Well, it beats watchin' the peppers grow. Besides, lacking any real excitement, you take it as you find it.
As I've said, it's been that kind of summer.
Steve Kark is an instructor at Virginia Tech and a correspondent for the Roanoke Times & World-News' New River Valley bureau. He writes from his home in scenic Rye Hollow, in a remote part of Giles County south of Pearisburg.|
by CNB