decterlove
12-05-2007, 09:10 AM
One of the strangest experiences I've ever had happened in Lake County back in the early 1980s. I was managing a natural foods restaurant called the Magic Inn, housed in a tiny cabin on the property of a popular hot spring resort near Middletown, California . That summer I was having some mild trouble with furry vagabonds scurrying about the kitchen storage areas. The rustic cabin, that served as the only on-site dining option in the early days of that now very successful resort destination, had lots of cracks in its' exterior walls allowing easy access for rodents enticed by the various aromas of fine vegetarian cuisine. The interior walls were paneled with unevenly milled, ancient pine boards, also full of cracks and large knot holes, thus providing lots of warm, dry, perfect nesting options for local discerning white-footed female mice.
I set a few traps in the storage area, baiting them with bits of organic cheese and peanut butter, but the thought occurred to me that I might also release one of the common local snake species into one of those knot holes for enhanced extirpation. I figured my slithery assistant would graciously explore all the nooks and crannies for a few days, eat as many nesting rodents as he could possibly engorge himself with, then slip out of the building unnoticed when the meals finally ran out. Visitors and residents of the resort were served outside at that time of year anyway, so I wasn't too concerned about a human-reptile encounter inside the building.
A few days later I was hiking far up in the surrounding hills when I happened upon a gorgeous four foot California King snake crossing the dusty mountain fire road. Picking him up to more closely inspect his glossy length, the thought returned to me that he might be the perfect solution to my rodent woes.
I began hiking back down the mountain with this black and white banded serpent draped around my neck, and had only gone about fifty feet when I began to have serious misgivings about the deed being initiated. I stopped to consider the possible outcomes of my all too clever endeavor. Transplanting this gorgeous and beneficial snake from his peaceful, grassy hillside (Cal Kings, as they are often referred to in the pet trade, quite frequently prey on rattlesnakes as well as rodents, thus helping to keep both populations in check) into a heavily trafficked area, both by humans and vehicles, was just not all the great idea I'd thought it might be, I decided. Reversing my direction, I walked back and placed him down in the exact spot I had picked him up, wished him a great life, and returned home grateful for my interspecial encounter.
Three nights later I was sitting and reading in the back corner of the inn near some shelves that held large glass jars storing brown rice, kidney beans, polenta, and all other essential dry ingredients used to make the simple meals served at my (very) humble establishment. I happened to glance up at the third shelf up from the floor as a movement caught my eye and was utterly astonished to see fifteen inches of California King Snake tail disappearing into one of the very knot holes I had envisioned releasing one into! Although these snakes were common in the surrounding garden and woodsy areas, I'd never seen any snake actually enter the building in the previous three years of working there, nor ever again after that remarkable evening. I'm sure others have a better explanation than I'm able to invent for myself regarding this incredibly strange incident involving my favorite creature, the snake.
I set a few traps in the storage area, baiting them with bits of organic cheese and peanut butter, but the thought occurred to me that I might also release one of the common local snake species into one of those knot holes for enhanced extirpation. I figured my slithery assistant would graciously explore all the nooks and crannies for a few days, eat as many nesting rodents as he could possibly engorge himself with, then slip out of the building unnoticed when the meals finally ran out. Visitors and residents of the resort were served outside at that time of year anyway, so I wasn't too concerned about a human-reptile encounter inside the building.
A few days later I was hiking far up in the surrounding hills when I happened upon a gorgeous four foot California King snake crossing the dusty mountain fire road. Picking him up to more closely inspect his glossy length, the thought returned to me that he might be the perfect solution to my rodent woes.
I began hiking back down the mountain with this black and white banded serpent draped around my neck, and had only gone about fifty feet when I began to have serious misgivings about the deed being initiated. I stopped to consider the possible outcomes of my all too clever endeavor. Transplanting this gorgeous and beneficial snake from his peaceful, grassy hillside (Cal Kings, as they are often referred to in the pet trade, quite frequently prey on rattlesnakes as well as rodents, thus helping to keep both populations in check) into a heavily trafficked area, both by humans and vehicles, was just not all the great idea I'd thought it might be, I decided. Reversing my direction, I walked back and placed him down in the exact spot I had picked him up, wished him a great life, and returned home grateful for my interspecial encounter.
Three nights later I was sitting and reading in the back corner of the inn near some shelves that held large glass jars storing brown rice, kidney beans, polenta, and all other essential dry ingredients used to make the simple meals served at my (very) humble establishment. I happened to glance up at the third shelf up from the floor as a movement caught my eye and was utterly astonished to see fifteen inches of California King Snake tail disappearing into one of the very knot holes I had envisioned releasing one into! Although these snakes were common in the surrounding garden and woodsy areas, I'd never seen any snake actually enter the building in the previous three years of working there, nor ever again after that remarkable evening. I'm sure others have a better explanation than I'm able to invent for myself regarding this incredibly strange incident involving my favorite creature, the snake.