Thursday, June 12, 2014

Snake on a Bike (A Slithering Sequel)

Snakes are a hot topic, if the blog views are any indicator of their (ahem) popularity.  Peeps, they're only here at a rate of one snake per year - and they've been known to skip a year!  My house is pre-snaked for the next 12 months;  it's safe to visit, really it IS.

But I have one more snake tale, just to tide you over till the next visit.

Gonzo was about five and feeling kind of squirrelly one day, when I decided it was time to accomplish something - so I called on that most motherly of commands:  "Go outside, Gonzo!"

"What can I do?" he asked. 

I love this.  Toys, games, kids, a huge swing (don't let engineers design their own swing;  you've been warned), animals, trees, a big ole' flat yard, a great big driveway you can use like your own street - surely, there was something out there to do.

"Ride your bike - that would be fun, " I stated with the confidence born of an impatient woman with a short cleaning fuse and one hand on a vacuum. 

Out he went.  In two minutes, he returned.  

"Can't."  The look on his face was on a confusion and deep contemplation (for a five year old).  You know that look, if you have children.  Eyes half squinted, weird mouth contortion, and the affect of one who finds thinking somewhat painful - or at least, uncomfortable at the moment.

"Why not?" I said, challenging the claim.

"There's a snake riding my bike."

I didn't hear that right.  It sounded like he said there was a snake riding his bike.  Now I had the weird look on my face. I needed clarity. 

"What did you say?"  

"There's a snake riding my bike," he repeated. 

His bike sat right on the front porch, so I opened the door and looked immediately to my right where the bike sat propped against the rock ledge on the porch.

He was right.  

Draped over the handlebars of the bike was the tail of a black snake who had decided to take a snooze on the ledge.  Granted, the snake may have been paying his respects to my miniature orange tree that was desperately in need of water. We didn't talk much, he and I, and I don't think he understood what I yelled - I'm not even sure it was in English.  He definitely was visiting post lunch because it looked like he had swallowed golf balls (but I'll bet that is not accurate).

Snakes on a Plane?  Light weight. I call that, and raise you one front door and a bike.


  1. Good morning, dear Cherdo!

    I know that I speak for the "great silent majority" of your readers when I urge you make snakes the subject of EVERY post from now on!

    You wrote:

    << Eyes half squinted, weird mouth contortion, and the affect of one who finds thinking somewhat painful - or at least, uncomfortable at the moment. >>

    That's a perfect description of me all day every day!

    I had a similar close encounter with a black snake. There is a window next to my computer station. One day, while I was reading Brand X blog (before I found your vastly superior site), I heard a rustling sound in the bush outside the window. I looked and saw a black snake wound around the branches, some three feet from my face. I suppose it had lunged after an insect or perhaps one of the many small lizards that inhabit the property. He/she/it was a whopper... a 20 footer...

    Quint: 25!

    ...and I knew I was gonna need a bigger bush.

    Thank you for another interesting snake tail, dear friend Cherdo. Have a happy Thursday!

  2. Obviously, blogging from the jungles of the Amazon will have some dangerous aspects, SDK.

    What's up with the abundance of lizards in the good ole' USA? Those blue tailed buddies are all over in my neck of the woods, and Coco's new prey. The first thing she does when she goes out is to run along the base of the stone wall and hunt out the lizards. Every time I see one with half a tail, I know she is faster that I first thought.

    Once again, I found a typo on my blog hours after posting. I need a new brain.

    Neurologically yours,

  3. I think you may just have to become the "snake whisperer." I think you are right on track for the job and they you should definitely blog about it!!

    1. Ooo, Betty...I DO need more, snakey snakey...

  4. Did the snake steal the bike? I have a photo somewhere of my late great tabby cat Milhous on my bike. He rode it more than I did.



Thanks for your personal yada, yada, yada,
Love, Cherdo