The Tell-tale Tail

“I got lucky.”

~ Vic after his blood pressure returned to normal

Since we aren’t yet on the move, and I’ve already backfilled the blog with mundane FAQ’s and other filler posts, I was wondering what I’d write about this week. Turns out Mother Nature had just the answer.

Remember that weekly “fluid management” chore that RVers must attend to? Vic has it down to a science and it is generally a chore he does. It wasn’t always this way. I can do it. I know how to do it. But generally speaking, he does it. Way back before we really knew what we were doing there was a time when we flooded the bathroom because we really didn’t have it all figured out. It’s easy to get distracted when you are waiting for a tank to empty or fill. But, like I said, he’s got it all figured out. Timers are employed, no chance of flooding, and our plumbing stays in great condition thanks to his meticulous methods.

He could almost do it blindfolded now. You get used to the sounds, the timing. Even in less than ideal weather, it takes him no time to run out and switch a hose or shut off a valve, or pull a handle. I’ve gotten used to the patterns of his coming in and out and can anticipate that he is “almost done” at the right time. So a few nights ago, after it had cooled and as I was cleaning up from dinner, he was winding down this activity. We were going to watch a movie. So he goes out for the last pull/lever/valve whatever and I set up the entertainment.

But he doesn’t come back in as quick as I’d expected. Hm. No biggie. I’m adjusting the windows and blinds inside and see him standing behind the trailer holding my hiking stick. It’s the one we keep by the front door in case I need it for something (warding off a stray coyote?) That’s curious. Why his he just standing there propped up on the stick watching the hoses? That’s not part of the routine. Then I see our neighbor (Carl, the maintenance volunteer) rushing out of his RV with his truck keys, saying “I’ll be right back.” I slide open the window and ask Vic what the heck is going on. Without taking his eyes off whatever he’s looking at, he points to a place outside, but directly beneath where I am inside the trailer and whispers “A snake. It’s a snake! Come out and see for yourself!”

I’m out like a flash, but not before grabbing the phone. Because, wildlife, camera, 911, who knows, you might need your phone! So I take a wide berth around the back of the trailer and now we are both out there in our loungewear and flipflops, him holding a hiking stick, me armed with a camera and there it is. A frigging rattlesnake curled up against the sewer hose.

The very sewer hose that Vic had been stepping over, maneuvering around, walking past and otherwise using for this “fluid management” chore for the last 45 minutes. “Has it been there the whole time?” I asked Vic. NO!

I was walking over to turn off the water at the spigot and just as I reached for it, I heard the rattle. In one instant, I turned and saw it retract down and slither over to the hose and also managed to jump about 6′ in the other direction. I must have stepped right over it on my way to the spigot. I got lucky.

A rough paraphrasing of the first hand account from Vic

So here we are. Standing guard over the sewer hose that is sheltering the first snake Vic’s ever had a close encounter with. A true Texas Rattlesnake. And it is NOT happy. Coiled up in the bend of the hose, head poised to strike, just glaring at us, daring us to take one step closer. No problem. That’s not happening! I retreat to the nearby (but further away) picnic table.

So what does Vic do? Hands me the stick and tells me to keep an eye on it while he goes inside to put on pants.

Because pants help.

Finally, Carl returns with a grabber. Not the kind we use to pick up trash, but the kind they keep around to aid in relocating snakes apparently. You know, the ones they keep in the shed with other tools and equipment for volunteers. Nope. Never seen it before in my life. In fact, while we KNOW this is a wildlife refuge, and while we’ve mentioned to more than one visitor at the trails that this IS rattlesnake country, and having heard from another volunteer about one they saw at the trailhead at Doeskin Ranch, we just never even considered they might come visit us at home.

After explaining that he will just pick it up and take it for a long walk, Carl casually walks over and, not without effort, snags the snake – who is VERY unhappy at this point – and takes it about 100 yards away behind the rv pads into the brush. Of course, my camera didn’t cooperate. So you don’t get the picture of Carl holding the 4′ long grabber with a very angry rattle snake flopping and flipping around at the end of it. Nor do you get the picture of the shirt Carl was wearing advertising his experience with invasive Pythons in the Florida Keys while volunteering at a refuge there. He was the right guy for the job!

None of us even questioned what we would do with it, this is a refuge after all and we are just visiting. So all we can do is hope we traumatized him enough that he doesn’t come near the RV pads again. So far, the strategy has worked with the little mouse we had to relocate (yes, the dang thing returned and after two sleepless nights, was humanely trapped and given a new home.)

Once he’d recovered from the excitement, Vic offered that he had no idea what he thought he was going to do with the stick. He’d quickly dismissed the idea of just chasing the snake off, knowing that I would want to know where it went. That’s when he knocked on the neighbors door, who was fortunately at home and knew where the grabbers were.

And that wraps up our wildlife interactions this week. We unwittingly fed a mouse, relocated him, then sheltered a rattlesnake (who might have been looking for said mouse?) and relocated him. In both cases, we are hopeful that they were lone travelers, without family and friends. Or if they had friends, they told them how unhospitable we are. Yes. It is time to go.