Helen Martin’s Blog

One day about five years ago I was in the midst of removing the lilies of the valley from an overgrown flower bed when suddenly I noticed, coiled up right next to my house, the largest snake I had ever seen in “the wild.” I saw this snake, mind you, after I had spent at least an hour in that garden, mercilessly driving my pitch fork into the soil and uprooting the closely packed plants. I had been all over that garden and I cannot believe I hadn’t stepped on - or forked - that snake. But there it was, seemingly undisturbed.

I couldn’t believe it. Right by my house. All throughout my childhood my brothers frightened me with garter snakes and I knew from the countless times my mother told me: there are no poisonous snakes in Minnesota. But still. It was this huge snake and it couldn’t stay there! I didn’t know what snakes can do. What if it could burrow into the ground and come into the house through a crack in the cement? I would never sleep again. I had the hard rake (it had a longer handle than the pitch fork) and the garden hose and with those two armaments I drove that snake out of the yard. I sprayed the water at it’s face while I prodded it out of the garden, across the grass and under the fence onto the sidewalk. I think it was kind of dazed by then because it was still there on the sidewalk after I had RUN to the garage and found a bucket to cover it with. Then, because, again, I didn’t know what snakes could do, I covered and surrounded the bucket with large stones before I went into the house to call animal control.

When they got to the house and lifted the bucket they discovered my quarry. It was a rattle snake. IT WAS A RATTLE SNAKE.

How many times in that hour in the garden had my ankle - my swollen 5 months pregnant with Henry ankle - been right within striking range? I KNEW I had seen that tail shake and had heard a rattle, but “there are no poisonous snakes in Minnesota” had made its mark on my intellect with such deeply held conviction (and comfort, I might add) that no matter how many hisses and rattles I heard, I still held onto that thought.

Had I known it was a rattle snake, I would have screamed and run to the side door and pounded until Kenny (then 6) opened it and would have called 911. And they probably wouldn’t have believed me. And the snake would have crawled away somewhere and I would never sleep, or go outside again.

So all in all, I guess I’m glad it turned out how it did.