The chickens were terrorized. A black snake had invaded their coop and they had quit laying in protest.
For days I asked Don to "take care of it" as we all know that I couldn't. Snakes, even on TV, scare me so much that I can't get my breath. Thanks, Eve.
Anyhow, Don got busy and didn't get it done before he left to teach a week-end long Motorcycle Riders Course. I was left alone with the biggest snake in the Whole Wide World.
Friday afternoon I went to feed the gals and guess who was finishing up an egg? My nemesis. The Snake. I hastily threw food for the gals and ran out of the coop as quickly as my old legs would run.
Saturday morning. The Snake had the audacity to be curled up in a nesting box, digesting the egg from the night before. I nearly touched him before I realized he was in there. I screamed. He screamed. The chickens screamed.
Sunday morning and I had reached my tolerance level. I called Daddy and asked for gun advice. He told me to come on and he would help me buy one. We did. I spent the afternoon learning how to safely load, aim and shoot. Daddy outfitted me with rat shot and regular bullets -- just in case, he said.
I arrived home, got myself a lawn chair, glass of tea, and my gun. My bullets were in my pockets because I was so afraid I'd shoot myself! Then, here he came, winding out of the building in the little space between the roof and the wall.
Took a deep breath.
I squeezed the trigger.
The Snake recoiled and seemed stunned. He then dropped -- right back into the coop.
I gingerly tiptoed to the building. Yep. Blood.
Then, I peeked in the building. He was dangling from the nesting box. Blood was oozing from his head. I was certain he was dead. Until He Licked His Tongue.
I couldn't shoot again. I was shaking too badly. But, I decided, I would wait and see if he came out again. I'd shoot him again if he did. Otherwise, perhaps he was dying.
Don arrived home an hour later. There I sat, Annie Oakley of the Mountains, gun across my lap, tea on the ground.
"What have you been doing?" he called up to me. "You? With a gun? What is wrong??"
I told my tale and dragged him into the coop. The Snake had coiled up in the nesting box, raging mad from his wound. It was evident that he was NOT going gently into that good night.
"Thanks," Don said sarcastically. "Now I have to finish him."
He did. Me? I went to the house to make supper. After all, hunting's hard work!