Snake in a Bag

[Martin Hash]

I always liked snakes as a kid; maybe it was my time and place in history, but I hope there's still boys who are excited to catch a snake and girls who say, “yech!” I raised my kids like that; well, almost, my daughter, Heather, still doesn't like snakes but she's a pushover for tortoises and lizards. My kids still revel in the story of when the farmer plowed the field around our old house and all the snakes came into our yard, dozens of them, many paper grocery sacks full. As in, my three kids would run around the yard, stamping their feet in the tall grass trying to chase out snakes so that they could catch them and put them in bags. There were many snakes in every bag, of all sizes, and at least three different varieties. I can remember getting out the Boy Scout handbook at the time and having the kids tell which kind of snake they were holding, but I can only remember they were all varieties of garter snakes.

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Now my kids are grown but occasionally someone mentions seeing a snake in the yard, and how big it was. At least once a year, someone comes into the house to “show you the snake.” Of course, when I'm mowing the lawn, snakes and baby bunnies, even salamanders and tree frogs, can take as long as they like to get out of the way. Little frogs are the most annoying because they're too stupid to get out of the way of the blades, but snakes are smart, and they quickly slither somewhere safe. I have never once chopped up a snake, though I did get a baby bunny once. (Now I watch more carefully.) My kids have spouses, and hopefully will rub their snake appreciation on them because so far, I'm kind of concerned. There is absolutely nothing wrong with putting a snake in a bag – everybody knows that.

Early in the summer the baby snakes come out; cute little things hardly longer than a worm. I always wonder what happens to most of them because there are usually so many and only a couple left by fall. Anyway, I thought my daughter, Heather, lover of lizards, might want a cute little snake, something easy to take care of so I plopped one in a bag, because that's where snakes go, right? I threw in a little grub for snacks, and left the bag on her old bed she sleeps in when she visits. My son, Heath's, wife, Jessica saw me doing it and asked what I was doing.
“I'm saving a snake for Heather.”
“You can't just put a snake in a bag.”
“What do you put them in?”
“I don't put snakes in anything,” she said, sanctimoniously. “All creatures should be able to live their lives without harassment.”
“Ohhhhkayyy...” I said, thinking the issue was over.

The next day she asked me about the snake in a bag. Heath was in the room with us.
“Heath!” Jessica commanded. “Your dad put a snake in a bag in your sister's room.”
“Oh, did you put a snake in a bag in Heather's room?” he asked.
“Yeah. It's a cutie.”
“Did you get me one?”
“Do you want a snake in a bag?”
“Don't you dare give Heath a snake in a bag!” Jessica commanded.
“Ohhhkayyy...” I said.

A few days later, Jessica came up to me.
“The snake in a bag is still in Heather's room.”
“Yeah, I don't know when she'll be over again.”
Jessica stormed off.
A little later Heath came in.
“I thought I'd let you know that Jessica let the snake in a bag go,” he said. “I thought I'd tell you before you found out.”
“Did you talk to her about doing something like that?”
“Yeah,” he said, sheepishly.
“That's one,” I said, warningly, because one thing one man's wife doesn't do to another man is let the snake out of the bag.

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