I can’t help but channel my inner Samuel L. Jackson more often than not recently since learning of the two slithering tenants that took up residency in our crawl space (at least it’s not on a plane??) The fact that they’ve given no references, did not allow a proper background check, and that they’re living rent free…well, let’s just say that we have our differences.
Now then, a gentleman with Alabama Wildlife Pro came out to the farm to see if he could sweet talk the snakes out of our crawlspace so that our duct-work installation crew would return. When I say return, I mean that quite literally. At the moment the first snake was spotted one could make out the dust in our driveway as they sped out and hopped back onto the road.
To our frustration, the crawlspace was empty. He spent nearly an hour hunting about for the pair and found only one old snakeskin that had been shed. There was evidence of the snakes coming and going amongst the crawlspace but none to be found. Overly thorough, which this gal appreciates, he checked our returns, around the house, and up amongst the attic. Nothing. Nada. Zip.
He asked us to give him a call should they return but ultimately…after an hour’s search, the man-hunt was called off.
Snakes – 1, The Mr. and I – 0
Giving the go ahead to our duct-work crew, they arranged to come back out the following morning to finish attaching the final pieces of our duct-work. I really thought that I’d exaggerated just how quickly they’d left the day before until Mario showed up the next morning with a brand new machete (Rambo anyone?) ready to ‘bust out the inner ninja’ should the snakes come back. Being of a small build, female, and horribly weirded out by most all reptiles, it felt a tad humorous to accompany him to the crawl space where I waited as he put on his headband flashlight and crawled under there.
The rules were simple – a scream would mean he’d found a snake. If this scream was intended to be a ‘war-cry’ or ‘cry for help’ I wasn’t certain, but I waited patiently at the crawlspace entrance as lookout…for snakes…don’t ask, I couldn’t tell you.
After looking through the entirety of the crawlspace he exited triumphant and declared that it was safe to return to work, which he did, promptly calling in the remainder of the crew.
Two hours in, so far so good. Another hour passed, still going strong.
…a knock at the door…
They’d found a snake. As per the previous day, everyone panicked and fled our crawlspace. I was provided photos they’d taken. A rat snake by all appearances but still…a three foot long snake that might as well have been an anaconda snatched out of the rainforest and dashed away into our crawlspace.
I couldn’t have us going another day without air as the duct-work was only 3/4’s of the way installed so…I did the only thing I could, I put them on snake-watch. It is exactly as it sounds, they sat near the entry to the crawlspace and kept their flashlight aimed on it to track its movements while I called back up the wildlife removal expert to come and evict our unintended tenant.
It seemed that within the hour things would settle down, work would resume, and we’d be back on track…wrong, wrong again.
After close to an hour of trying, the snake remained a free agent, simply retreating back behind a cinderblock in the far corner of the crawlspace anytime the hook was reached out to gather him. At a loss, all that our brave wildlife expert could do was set three traps surrounding the corner so that if it slithered out, it’d trap itself…theoretically. So I guess that’s what you’d call being stuck between a rock and a hard place.
We’ve wondered over the past couple months why we haven’t seen but the one field mouse and no other critters aside from the occasional rabbit or deer near the wooded edge of the property line. Considering the size of our rat snake it seems he’s been making a killing for himself.
With little choice left to us we did what any rational person would, we named it. So here’s to you, Snake Gyllenhaal!
This day just gets more and more bizarre as it goes on.