I was out in the front yard close to the Swimming Hole, spraying the burr clover that pricks the grandsons’ feet if you let it grow, and the gallon jug was almost empty when I glanced to the left at a suspicious-looking long stick, to see that it was not a stick atall, but a five-foot chicken snake.

Readers may recall that we discussed just such a snake last week, which had been the victim of a mower accident, so since this was exactly the same area where that had occurred, I assumed it was the same serpent, and exclaimed, “Bob! Is that you?”  (I’d named it Bob, for Bob-Tailed Chicken Snake.)

If it was Bob the Snake, he didn’t immediately answer, so I leaned over and gently set the spray jug on his head, so as to more closely identify the tail end, which I knew quite well would be recognizable, if it was tattered and torn. This snake immediately raised its tail for my inspection, coiling it around the jug.

Well, this was a different snake: we must have had a hatch-out of five-foot chicken snakes at Brownspur this spring. I grasped the tail end and managed to straighten out the snake, reaching forward to hold it behind the head with my left hand, so as to separate it from the jug. Now I had an irritated five-foot snake!

I once was instructed by my pseudo big brother Alton in the art of popping the head off of a poisonous snake, sort of like cracking a whip, but the head end (you should hold the snake by the tail, to swing it around your head) will actually snap off, I think because the head of a moccasin or copperhead is wedge-shaped. It also helps if there is a bullet hole at the base of said snake’s neck, I might note.

It’s been a half-century since I practiced slinging snakes, but here was an opportunity for Wildlife Research: would a non-poisonous snake, without a wedge-shaped head, lose its head in similar fashion?

Always the scientist in these matters, I began my wind-up as I released the head – a chicken snake is not poisonous, but a large one can still draw blood when he bites you, I have found through experience. Funny thing about slinging a five-foot snake: it quickly becomes a five-and-a-half-foot snake!  There was an oak tree nearby, so I took a step or so backward to give me more swing space.

My older grandson Sir gave me a pair of green Crocs last Father’s Day, those slippers without a back on them, you know? Crocs don’t back up well. I tripped as the shoe slipped off, and felt myself going over backwards, and I lost my grip on the tail as I tried to break my fall. The slung snake sailed thirty yards, almost to the road, as I fell to the grass.

That sucker hit and whirled. Not only was he mad about being slung, he knew exactly who the slinger was, and now it was his turn!  

He came straight for me, and an angry snake covers ground really fast. I was barely able to regain my feet before the serpent got to me, and I quickly set the spray jug on his head again, to stop his charge. Once more, his hind end wrapped around the jug, and my hand.

Once more I grasped his tail and unwound him from the jug, stretched him out, and examined him face to face as he hissed and snapped at me. Wildlife Research be durned, now I just wanted to get the snake far enough away for me to be shut of him (and him of me) for the rest of the day. It was pretty obvious that we were not going to be friends, at least this week!

Once again, I began to swing the mad snake, releasing the head as I gained momentum. He kinked up initially, but a couple more whirls stretched him out as before, and he got closer to the spreading limbs of the oak. Once again, I stepped backwards. Once again, the doggone shoe tripped me, but this time it wasn’t going to be a tentative fall, I could tell.  

I turned aloose of the snake and thrust my hands behind me to soften the impact. That snake was at the top of his circle as I let go, and he sailed into a tree by the roadside, coiling around a limb to break his fall, as I fell back. Would you believe he was back for more fun the very next morning?

No, I didn’t. We’ve both had enough of Snake Slinging, here at Brownspur!