Not Again!

Slider uncoiled, in the cool dark below the shed. Hot out there. Nice under here. But the last lizard was days ago, and no mice or moles ventured into his well-known habitat.

Sliding to the edge of the shed, he blinked in the afternoon sun. Nothing moved out there. It was just … hot.

He wondered if Hunter were around. Hunter didn’t come often, but he always came looking for Slider when he did come visiting. A snake had to be careful. Hunter had surprised him once by suddenly lifting a board, and almost caught him. Two other times, Hunter had bagged him and carried him around for “show and tell”. Slider never wanted to be that nakedly visible again.

Another time, he was moving fast, like an angry horsefly, chasing a frog over the grass, and suddenly came eye to eye with Hunter. Simply hadn’t realized Hunter was there. Hunter seemed to be digging a hole that later became a great frog trap – but that day, Slider was almost in the trap. He had stared at Hunter for a moment, then fled for cover, with Hunter pursuing. That was close. Too close.

Today, he would hunt lizard. Or frog. Either would be tasty.

Moving out toward the frog pool, he watched for predators. All clear. Easing into the brush by the pool, he suddenly heard the worst of all sounds – Jane and Otsu, those noisy black dogs, being released from Hunter’s car, and bounding about the yard, barking at everything. Moments later, Hunter came around the corner with a long stick and some tongs. No doubt what those were for. Slider lay without moving. His only hope lay in not being noticed. He dare not make a dash for home - the motion would draw Hunter’s eye, and life in the open would quickly become just a memory.

An indolent frog lay sunning itself on the flat stone between Slider and the pool. Oooh, just one quick motion … but the frog jumped for the water at Hunter’s approach, and Jane was beginning to sniff around the brush. Slider had seen how the people dealt with some copperheads they had found, and he had no desire to tempt a similar fate. Must remain motionless. No movement, none at all.

It would be a long afternoon.

Evening came, and with the dogs apparently inside the house, Slider eased away from the brush he had used to save his life. The pond was so close. The bullfrogs were silent, but they knew he was there, so they would be silent. Lizards? None visible. Seeing no people or dogs, he moved down to the creek bed, as far from the house as possible, and sought some dinner in a more secluded place. The bullfrogs in the pond called to him, daring him to come, since they had seen it all and knew his fear. Let them call. When he answered, they would be the ones afraid… but for now, let them call.

He eventually eased back up the bank, and wandered towards the shed. Time to curl up and digest the evening’s meal for a day or two.

Almost back, he noticed a piece of wood lying on the ground. Hadn’t been there before. Tempting. He swung wide around it, smelled it, looked underneath. Nice. Very nice. Tired, he decided to take advantage of the new board, and try it out. He slid underneath it, and curled up. Maybe he would make a home here.

Tomorrow. I’ll decide tomorrow.

Slider was more than afraid. He was frustrated and angry. He knew what it meant, when someone started walking around the yard just after dawn, putting those colored eggs you couldn’t eat all over the grass. Did they think any snake with a brain in his head would be fooled by those?

But the real danger, his real concern, was Hunter. This was the day each Spring when Hunter came looking, and it was almost as if he studied how snakes lived and thought. There seemed to be no way to escape him.

Wherever I hide, he looks. He reads my mind.

Hunter strolled into the back yard, wearing boots and gloves, carrying a long stick with a small device on its end. Slider froze.

He poked around in the brush by the frog pond.

Good thing I hadn’t gone there for breakfast today!

Hunter slowly, watchfully, moved over to the shed, and began looking around its edges.

How does he know to look for me there?

And then he walked casually, almost accidentally, but in a very straight line, to the board under which Slider was cringeing, and lifted it up. Before Slider could jump for the grass on either side, Hunter had laid that device across his neck and lifted him into a hard, clear container. Not again! How did he know?

Hunter lifted him in the air, and bringing his face very close, looked carefully at Slider. He spoke softly to him, as though Slider could understand, and began carrying him over to a group of people.

Not again! I am so embarrassed! I hate it when he does this!

David had shown the Buttermilk Racer to everyone he wanted to, and took it back to the shed area where he had set a new board down as a successful trap.

That was his board. I was such an idiot.

“Liked my board? I’ll set it out for you again next year.”

Bet you will. I just bet you will. Not gonna fall for that again.

“And since it won’t be there until then, you’ll forget. I know you.”

Aaargh.