The Buzzworm in the Bucket

I find Mondo the cat doing just what he wants, which is what he always does, in the backyard, way past the time he should be inside. Of course, he is still hunting the desert spiny lizards and kangaroo rats in the warm darkness. He doesn’t know it, but there are predators in the same darkness who would like to hunt him – great horned owls, bobcats, foxes, coyotes, for example. 

His yellow, reflecting eyes give him away as I close in on him, my headlamp beaming. He is so focused on stalking something in the aloe patch that he is an easy catch. I pick him up and he starts to purr, the softie. 

I turn and head for the back door, shining my light as I go. Then I see the snake.

“Really?” I think to myself. “Not again.” 

I have something of a history with rattlesnakes. They show up at odd times, just to surprise and mess with me, or so I think. Whenever I expect to see them, I don’t. When I don’t, like tonight, in October of all times, here in the cool dusk, I run into them. I was also bitten by one. They are part my awareness every night, every step I take in the dark in my yard, or on hiking trails, or when I ride a bike in the desert.

“Well, hello,” the snake seems to say, with just a trace of a smirk.

The snake does not seem malevolent or evil as some might infer. He is dangerous though. There, right at the base of a door jamb, half in, half out of a hole far too narrow to accommodate such a beefy body, he is right where someone’s foot would land stepping out of or into the back door. He is in a bad, unlikely place. I wonder how he can seem so comfortable. But then again what do I know of what snakes can do or find comfortable? Heck, a packrat the size of a fat hamster, can squeeze through an opening smaller than a quarter. 

Back to the present…. I need to take Mondo inside, but I also, very soon, need to move my visitor. A wife or a son or a cat could easily be struck by the snake. The potential consequences are such that I am obligated to act immediately. I go around the house to the front door, close all exits for the cat, and warn Megan not to go into the backyard. 

“I was just going to get the laundry,” she says, blithely.

“Hijos…” I whisper under my breath, keeping my errand to myself. 

I grab my snake tongs, go back around the house, and find my friend still there, waiting, it seems, to be pulled from the hole. The only good place to grab him is near his head. As soon as I do, he rattles, writhes, and puffs up. It is a tug of war to get him out of the hole, but eventually, the force of my pulling is greater than his grip and the body emerges – thick and smooth and ghostly in the light of the lamp.

I talk to the snake as I carry him out to the porch where I have a bucket with a lid for just such a possibility.

“You can’t come into my yard. This is my place. If you come back, I’ll chop your head off with a shovel.” (I don’t really mean this, but try to sound convincing.)

The snake drops into the bucket and coils, still rattling. Before he tries to escape the bucket I put a top on it, pick it up, and grab my bike. He buzzes all the way down to the wash as I carry him and the bucket under my arm with the other arm steering my stealthy velo. (Yes, it is possible to ride a bike  through trees and over curbs carrying a bucket with a rattlesnake in it. But you should always wear a helmet and reflective clothing and consult your doctor before starting any snake re-location program. If your snake puffs up for more than four hours, considering getting professional help.)

We find a nice spot, plentiful packrat nests, off the bike trail, in a thicket of tamarisk trees. I open the bucket and dump him out. 

He immediately slithers back in the direction from which we have just come. 

I poke a stick in front of him and he turns to go the other direction.

“That’s good,” I say. 

He might turn out to be prey for a hawk or road runner before he can re-establish a territory. I might get hit by a drunk driver on my return trip. Mondo might catch that desert spiny tomorrow. Something might get Mondo tomorrow. Lots of things might happen, but we have to do what we can to live with the way of things. No?