What Wakes Up First

I was in my early 20’s – still a firefighter – and honestly, the bravery just vanished.

I woke up to what sounded like sand sliding slowly down paper. I also heard my dog; pissed off – pacing back and forth next to my bed, her growls merging into low half-barks.

You try to put reason to sounds heard in the dark and when that doesn’t work, imagination fills the gap – for good or bad.

But this strange sound but not exactly threatening – from across the room … near … weird, near the ceiling …

I spent the better part of 15 years living in a small cabin called ‘The Back House’ during my 20’s and early 30’s. It fulfilled the function of a home, but it didn’t exactly hit all the notes the building code was hoping for.

Originally built as a pigeon coop – I kid you not – over the decades on that land, we upgraded the dirt entry and two tiny coop rooms into a ‘rustic’ studio-cabin. At about 200 square feet it had cold running water, a super cute tiny kitchen, a wood stove, electricity and phone service (‘late 80’s and on) – and, yes; I mean no – no bathroom.

But it was a home. It felt good there, wrapped in a big porch, half in the woods, the ‘wall’ my bed was against was entirely a picture window. The view, a mature Cape forest with coyotes, deer, hawks and the full range of Cape weather was often my TV. The peace there was sublime; though not without its flipside.

I reached for my flashlight and passed the beam over my desk occupying the opposite corner of the space from my bed. Seeing nothing for a second I convinced myself the sound was must have been a dry fallen branch sliding across the asphalt roof in the wind.

That’s what I so wanted it to be a second later.

Hanging from the ceiling, like some Medusian nightmare were three snakes wrapped around each other; and well over 3 feet long. Just as I was drinking in that little horror, they fell with a heavy thud onto my desk; behind the computer that was set up in the corner.

Behind the computer was a cord-drop cut out.

Thump! – they landed on the floor.

‘Ok …. I’m the fuck outta here.’

The little cabin lived behind my parents house. And that’s where I went.

Now I’m a grown man. I’m suppose to have at least an ounce of cojones – shit, I’m a firefighter and paramedic – we run in while the others are running out.

Not this time.

It’s 2 in the morning or some horrible time and I’m in boxers headed across a lawn to my mom because I’m scared of a snake.

(And why is this their problem anyway?)

As I opened the slider to their house, those realities flooded in. I paused. Thought about where those snakes were – in my bed, I thought – and knocked on their bedroom door.

Not much phases my folks, but this response is still a classic.

“Mom, Earle.?” I think I was whispering, but the stress still came out. “…Ahhhh …. I have 3 huge snakes hanging from my ceiling that are now slithering around my cabin.”

Without a pause, like we were talking at the dinner table, Earle said, “What you need is a snake hook.”

‘Of course.’ I thought to myself, how did I not think of that, a snake hook. ‘?!…Honestly, how do they come up with this stuff so casually?

“Ok.” I said, my brain was waking up now; getting my head around what he was saying; – what that tool actually would look like.

“I’ll go make one.” Earle said.

Yep. A snake hook and how to make one was right there for the plucking, in the middle of the night, without more than respectful pause. In some ways I should have predicted it, it’s very much how home worked, but the casualness I just wasn’t ready for.

I went back to the cabin to see if I could figure out where these beasts had gotten off to. I’d left the door open for the dog, Dalia, to make her choices – a young tough sheltie with enough attitude that I figured she’d keep an eye on the intruders.

She was still in an alert state, but not quite as anxious. I scanned the place as I entered, sweeping the floor with the light, figuring they were still behind the desk.

But like I said, the cabin was pretty rustic, it’s not like it had base board trim, in fact, where the two walls met the floor, behind my desk, there was a small gap. Small, but big enough for a snake.

As I cleared the desk area of the cabin, I moved to the bed, then to the kitchen. All clear. Not what I was hoping for. It’s way better to have eyes on than be surprised.

That scratching sound again. Shit.

I looked back at the corner of the ceiling.

Yep. They’re baaaaack!

At about that time, Earle arrived with his newly fashioned snake hook. An old tool handle about 5 feet long with a ceiling hook screwed to the end of it.

About 1/3 of the snakes bodies were hanging off the ceiling, twisted around each other and slowly oozing out of the hole. Earle reached up with the hook, gently twisted it around one of the snakes from the bunch. It very kindly decided to cooperate and hold onto the tool handle like a tree branch.

Moving with alacrity, Earle took the beast a bit into the woods, came back, handed me the hook, and went back to bed. We may have exchanged a total of 3 sentences during this entire time.

Ahhh. Yes. My turn.

The two remaining snakes had again dropped behind the computer, and onto the floor and were headed back into the hole in the wall at the floor level.

With far less grace, I managed to hook one snake – who was far less cooperative and thought heading towards me was OK.

It was not!

Learning on the fly, Earle’s snake was on the ceiling, once hooked, he held the stick with a slight upward tilt – ‘up’ was the direction the snake wanted to go. My snake was on the floor – up was towards my hand. So with a little practice, I convinced the beast to wrap onto the ‘branch’ without heading towards me and a minute later I had it in the woods.

Entering the house for a third time, I again scanned the desk area. No snake.

I waited.

No snake.

And searched the cabin again – including my sheets.

No snake.

Finally my synapses were firing properly, ‘Perhaps, block the holes in the ceiling and the floor…?’

A couple blocks of wood and a half dozen screws later, the place was secure for the night at least.

I did a clearing search of the cabin again, double checked the sheets, my cloths, and all the corners I could.

Then took myself and the dog to the car where I spent the rest of the night. That last snake was somewhere in the walls and I wasn’t likely to sleep knowing that. Where it eventually went off to, I’ll never know.

I actually really like snakes. As a kid, Earle taught me how to catch them just behind the head. I liked the way they would twist around your arm. Even as a very young child I went to a zoo in Boston and had a 30 pound boa draped around my body – the power of it was just cool.

Now, in Phoenix, after the above visit (see video) from a 4 foot Bull Snake, I made my own hook from the skeletal spine of a saguaro cactus and the afore mentioned ceiling hook. It’s just as likely the next one will be a rattler and the work will have a bit more urgency to it.

I do wonder how I would have felt if the hole in the ceiling was over my bed. If they’d landed on the pillow next to me instead of behind the computer across the room. Snakes do touch a primeval part of the soul. Across time, these beasts have held in a particularly ugly light. It’s the stuff of phobias – snakes dropping on the pillow beside you. Grateful that was not what woke up first.

It still leaves me with more than a bit of egg on my face ….

“Mom, Earle, can you help me fight off harmless snakes?”

Uggghhhh!