I’ve already mentioned I grew up in the middle of nowhere. That means there was lots of local wildlife. Deer and occasional foxes in the yard, raccoons and opossums on the porch, bunnies, skunks, moles, voles, chipmunks, squirrels and groundhogs scattered about. Back then there were still pheasants mixed in with the wild turkeys.
The one surefire way to tell it was really spring, other than the baby critters scattered about was the first sighting of George, the resident snake. I have no idea what sort of snake he was other than brownish.
Every spring we’d rake up the leaves from the top of the flower beds and pick up any sticks and branches that had fallen over the winter. One of my chores was to then burn everything. Yeah, I know. My childhood was a bit odd in many ways.
Anyway, George lived in the compost heap that was located next to the burning pile. It was framed with a wire fence which I would sometimes lean against while playing in the fire. Until George moved in. He was not at all happy if he was disturbed while lounging in the sunshine and would hiss to express his displeasure. He was rarely upset enough to slither away however. I guess he was in his domain and therefore not about to leave his spot for anyone.
His arrival, though he was a very tiny snake, ended the use of the majority of the compost heap. Couldn’t disturb George now, could I? Over time I could see distinct paths he created as he wound his way through his territory. It really was fascinating, watching them emerge. When I’d go out to burn, if he wasn’t already there I would tap the fence and wait. It never took long for him to join me. He’d curl up on top on nice days and soak up the sun while I torched whatever accumulated debris there was.
George’s reign lasted for years. By the time he vanished, I had quite a collection of skins he’d sloughed. He used one particular section to assist in shedding them, right on top at the side I always stood when we chatted. I think he left them for me intentionally.
The one surefire way to tell it was really spring, other than the baby critters scattered about was the first sighting of George, the resident snake. I have no idea what sort of snake he was other than brownish.
Every spring we’d rake up the leaves from the top of the flower beds and pick up any sticks and branches that had fallen over the winter. One of my chores was to then burn everything. Yeah, I know. My childhood was a bit odd in many ways.
Anyway, George lived in the compost heap that was located next to the burning pile. It was framed with a wire fence which I would sometimes lean against while playing in the fire. Until George moved in. He was not at all happy if he was disturbed while lounging in the sunshine and would hiss to express his displeasure. He was rarely upset enough to slither away however. I guess he was in his domain and therefore not about to leave his spot for anyone.
His arrival, though he was a very tiny snake, ended the use of the majority of the compost heap. Couldn’t disturb George now, could I? Over time I could see distinct paths he created as he wound his way through his territory. It really was fascinating, watching them emerge. When I’d go out to burn, if he wasn’t already there I would tap the fence and wait. It never took long for him to join me. He’d curl up on top on nice days and soak up the sun while I torched whatever accumulated debris there was.
George’s reign lasted for years. By the time he vanished, I had quite a collection of skins he’d sloughed. He used one particular section to assist in shedding them, right on top at the side I always stood when we chatted. I think he left them for me intentionally.
1 comment:
Right...well...uh huh...
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