People who say it cannot be done should not interrupt those who are doing it. Welcome to From On High.

Sunday, May 13, 2012

It's Opening Day On Stoney Lonesome Farm!

Yesterday was the day - now an annual event - when I ATV back to where I keep my mower deck in the winter and remove the tarp, getting ready to mow the fields.  Why is this an event?  Because every year, I take the tarp away and photograph the snake(s) living underneath.

So yesterday I took the tarp off and ... nothing.

But wait.  What's that tucked inside the fold?  (Click on the images to enlarge them.)

There's the little rascal:

And he ain't happy.

Somehow he decided that that was HIS (her?) mower deck.

It took more than a bit of coaxing to dissuade him of the notion.

(I should mention, for those who wonder why I don't just shoot the little bastard, I live by the "mutual coexistence" standard.  They eat rodents and bugs - and, yes, baby birds, more on that in a second - and I'm in favor of them eating rodents and bugs.  And they leave me alone.  So ...)

Finally, I hook up the mower to my tractor and I'm heading back west along the fence line, when I look over at a bluebird box that I'd built a while back ...

... and darned if there wasn't a snake there with his head sticking out, looking at me.

I think there had been a nest of sparrows in the box.  Operative words being "had been."

At the end of the day, I pulled the tractor into the shed, looked up, and saw another snake in the rafters above my head.  (No photo this time; it was a tad too dark.)

Mutual coexitence is one thing, but geeeeezzz.

- - -

While I'm on the subject, I might mention - those three snakes were all black snakes (4 to 7 feet long).  I can deal with them.  But while I was replacing fence posts last weekend, I happened to look down at my boots, and saw one of these bad boys curled up in the tall grass about a foot from my big toe:

Black snakes are cute and cuddly.  Copperheads on the other hand ...

With a gentle nudge, he too wandered off to frighten the bejeebers out of someone else, hopefully on a farm far, far away.

I love Spring.