Dragon in the Chicken Wire

My five-year-old neighbor, Geo, was staring intently at something in the front yard. Now that's not so unusual. A Cooper's hawk likes to bathe in the fountain, and javelina or bobcats come by for a drink or to snag a trader rat. It's a lively place. Blocked from my view was the subject of Geo's fascination. It was a writhing diamondback rattlesnake caught up in the chicken wire around the xeriscape island. It was braided but good with one pass through a chicken wire hole followed by a second. Now what did he/she have to do that for I thought. A small group of bystanders had gathered by now as the white belly of the snake twisted in the early morning light. To cut him loose, the head would have to be restrained. I'd cut, but someone had to hold that business end in check. A bite might mean months or years of recovery. Been there. Stuff that. Those present retreated when asked. A guest with no previous rattlesnake experience volunteered. He held the head and neck of the snake while I did the surgery on the wire. Now, having my hand six inches from the fangs of an angry diamondback had my little heart fluttering, no... hammering. In my mind, bat wings opened and closed while streams of fire shot from the hissing mouth. Eyes were red with rage and vitriol. The tail was going hot and fast. No matter. Ignore it. Cut him loose. Snip. Snip. Reach around to the back. Hope the tongs hold. One more. Done. Once free, I caught him with the tongs, told him to never come back and carried his puffed up, fire-breathing, rattling, sinuous body to the wash. He retreated with a hiss, a quick look back to make sure I wasn't following. That way he could travel quicker into the misty world of my dreams.