Out walking along the greenway this morning, I came across this fellow:
I walk five and a half miles each morning, five days per week. This is the time of year when I start to see more and more snakes, sometimes two or three in a single day. But they're usually Black Snakes or Green Snakes, both of which are far more afraid of you than you are of them.
I usually don't mess with any of the snakes I find, but I will take a branch and shoo them back into the brush. If they just lay there sunning themselves on the trail, they can get run over by a bicyclist.
But this was a big ol' Copperhead, just sitting there, right in the middle of the trail, which is paved. And I guess he didn't really appreciate me trying to shoo his ass away. He actually started attacking the branch I was using and moved closer to me. And that was a mistake.
I started wailing on that sumbitch like nobody's business. Beat him 'bout half to death. Then I picked him up (with a stick - I'm crazy, not stupid) and tossed his ass about 8 feet off the trail, into the short brush.
Ol' boy wasn't doing too well at that point. And now I felt bad for him. I didn't have anything to finish him off with. No big sticks, no rocks, nothing. So I left him there.
When I got home, I loaded my shovel into the car and drove back down there to find him and put him out of his misery. But he was gone. Either I'd only stunned him and he managed to crawl off to his cubbyhole, or he'd become lunch for one of the many hawks that roam around down there.
Wonder if he'll waiting to ambush me tomorrow…