June 2009 – Of Warmth, Of Dragons

I saw them copperheads in the shed yesterday morning. It’s dark as pitch in there, and soon as I shut the door behind me I forgot what it was I went looking for. The overhead bulb was burnt out, but of course I didn’t remember that, either, so I pulled the chain like the old fool I am. Then I just closed my eyes and stood real still, hoping I might remember something so easy as why I carried my carcass out there in the first place. But nothing came to me at all, just the wet sound of my breath blowing in and out. After a time there was a sound like dry paper, coming from inside that old garbage can. I lifted the lid and there they was; I could see them even in the dark. Four baby snakes at least. I put the lid back before I could count any more heads.

I knew they was copperheads. They got that bow-tie pattern on their backs, and the last two inches of their tails was yellow. Birds and such — they supposed to think it’s a worm. They get curious, come closer, just close enough. How about it, when them snakes is born they already got their own bait to hunt with. The yellow fades out soon as they old enough to hunt by theyselves. They ain’t too dangerous, yet. A bite from one of them now, and your hand’ll swell up and your head’ll hurt for a day or two, is all. But their mama’s another story.

Copperhead babies come out live. Ain’t no eggs. Maybe their mamas love them more, because they ain’t never come out of no eggs. Anyways, the mama goes off hunting during the day, then she come back to check on the young’uns right as the sun’s going down. That’s what I’m counting on, anyways.

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