|Sadly, not on duty eradicating reptilian miscreants overrunning my garden.|
Clearly he's wearing cowboy boots.
There's been a development. Please sit down.
Mary, my gardening guru, saved Clint's life. Yes, I named the snake Clint.
I hear the screaming! Breathe. Read on.
"Linda, that's an Eastern milk snake. ...he is not poisonous. He's really quite beautiful. Given the explosion in the chipmunk population, he must be quite happy in your garden. xo Mary"
|Pumpkin always gives chase, but she is not fast enough to catch these cheeky critters.|
The snake lives.
Clint stays until the marauders are under control.
|Respect and a wide berth have replaced all thoughts and plans re Clint's demise at my doing.|
I'm certain he's out there right now, cornering Chip and Dale in the drain pipe, and asking "do you feel lucky?"
I am, however, on the look-out for a reasonably priced pair of cowboy boots.
Thanks for reading,
if you'd love to have a home you love coming home to, one with snakes only in the garden, thank you, contact me!