My husband and I had adopted the habit of keeping a weapon handy since moving into the mountains (a far cry from our city life upbringing), so I reached for the .22 rifle (with its totally cool scope), took aim and shot. The snake’s body reacted to the direct hit by jumping and coiling out of the water, then slipping under the surface. I quickly handed the rifle to my husband to run over and retrieve my kill.
I squeezed through the fencing and picked up a long, heavy limb, then stretched out to reach the snake’s limp body just under the water off the bank. After poking at the body a half dozen times, its head suddenly lifted above the water and it started coming after me. I had only injured the reptile.. Needless to say I jumped back, but with the steep slope of the hill on my left, the pond on my right and the barbed fence at my back, I had no escape.
The snake advance so quickly it would be impossible for me to maneuver through the fence in time to get away. I instinctively screamed my husband’s name repeatedly. He was already there but on the SAFE side of the fence. Without hesitation, being my hero and protector, my husband pumped the remainder of the clip into the head of the snake.
After my heart returned to my chest—from being lodged in my throat—I proceeded to cut off the snake’s head and then I skinned it. I am now the proud owner of a 40” snakeskin belt. Ha! That’s what you get Mr. Snake. Don’t mess with my pond.