My husband is an all around good guy. Bob can build and repair almost anything. He enjoys the work and he has been industriously repairing, installing, and improvising improvements all over the property to make our home more comfortable for our family and animals.
He has installed:
A water softener and sediment filter so that our water didn’t look like urine
A chlorinater so that our water no longer smells like liquefied farts
A carbon filter to reduce the chlorine
The plumbing to run this whole system in the pump house
He has entered our attic and spent 4 hours on a Florida summer afternoon, blowing in insulation. I ran the machine. We were covered in sweat and insulation by the end.
Repaired a bedroom door that fell off the hinges.
Contrived a new door for the chicken coop from scratch
Installed our custom closet organization
All I have to do in return is be a mother and fulfill my biblical requirements with gusto! Done and done.
Today… he killed a snake that was coiled near to my mini chickens
The mini chickens like to hang out under a large bush near the main coop during the day. They don’t come out in the open much because of hawks and other birds of prey. However, the also won’t go to the coop to lay eggs. In the 3 days that they have been here, Bob and I have found one mini egg. They are cute, roughly half the size of a regular chicken egg. So I went egg hunting under the chicken tree.
I would not have seen the snake if the light had been any lower. As it was, the belly coils looked pale blue and stood out in the brush. On sight, I knew it was a Pygmy rattlesnake. I’ve lived and hiked in FL for years and I have only seen venomous snakes a hand full of times. This one was sitting three feet away from my unconcerned flock. I thought they had already killed it.
I was excited. I called Bob to come and look at my new discovery. We both looked and assumed the thing was dead. He fashioned a long branch with a sharp tip prepared for dragging and decapitating the snake.
As soon as the stick touched, the snake ran the opposite direction. I was surprised that the rooster had not already killed it. Bob dragged the thing from under the bush with some difficulty, but he succeeded and speared the neck just behind the head. He never hesitated or batted an eye.
It continued to move for a while.
We fully decapitated the snake and put it beside Cockzilla. No response. I can only conclude that since the birds have been raised in captivity, they don’t see snakes as a threat.
Time to get some cats.
So, here’s to Snake Killer McGee. May you always save our motley crew from danger!
An escape from the suburbs and corporate America spawned a journey into rural living. Writer, wife, mother, and local chicken lady, join me as I fail, fail, fail! and learn along the way.