Red Belly Water Snakes

Thirty minutes before sunset – the golden hour for photos and exercising cow-dogs. The plan was to take the Jeep to Bobcat Landing and let Dirt swim in the swampy black river and practice herding alligators.

“Jeep,” I say to Dirt. He lets out a screeching bark, runs out back, and jumps in the passenger seat.

We crank the CJ and the Allman Brothers and just when I eased out the clutch, I realized I forgot the road beers.

I threw it in neutral and cranked the volume so I could keep listening to Gregg while I stocked up. “You’re my blue sky, you’re my sunny day…” I hummed along, kept the front door open, and reached in the back of the fridge to grab two, mountain blue, Coors Lights.

“Dirt! That’s enough!” I hollered, while I stared at a piece of old fried chicken on the top shelf in the fridge. I could hear he was messing with something. A lizard, I assumed. But he quickly went into his half-growl, half-high-pitched screeching bark, typically only reserved for herding armadillos or nipping ex-girlfriends.

Just as I closed the refrigerator door, I see Dirt’s raised dog bed go flying through the air! I run to the door.

“Dirt, what in the… oh hell!” I shouted out as it headed straight for me.

“No no! Other way!” I hollered. “Other way!”

But it was too late. Dirt managed to herd four feet of black-scaled, shiny-coated snake right over my bare toes and into the kitchen. And yes, I often go barefoot when I’m taking the boys to a swimming hole.

Now, I know snake species pretty darn well, especially in South Carolina, but I’ll admit, when it’s in your house and over your toes, all that knowledge flies right out the window. I did, however, know it was one of two species. Either a Red Belly Water Snake or a Cottonmouth. Red Bellies love to mimic Cottonmouths. They’re insecure. And in turn, even harder to identify.

I called Dirt off the herd, left the door open, and ran out to the Jeep to fetch my Texas snake tongs. “Ain’t but, one way out baby, lord I just can’t go out that door…” Gregg and the brothers were on to the next song. Fitting.

Thirty seconds. It couldn’t have taken me longer than thirty seconds to grab the tongs and be back at the scene of the crime. No snake in sight.

“Great,” I told Dirt who was velcroed to my left leg, “this is just great.”

The next two hours were spent moving, pulling out, lifting up, and shifting around every square inch of any crevice a serpent could hide. Nothing. Dirt and I concluded the snake must have made its way back out the door and into the jungle in the time it took for us to get the tongs from the Jeep.

We heated up leftovers for dinner. Old fried chicken, rice, and beans. We checked and re-checked under the sofa and chairs every time we sat down.

Bedtime finally rolled around. After checking the bed no less than a dozen times, I crawled in, Dirt crawled on top, and eventually, we drifted off to sleep.

1:34 am, I shot up. WWE  was hosting a monster truck rally in my stomach. I ran downstairs, flung open the bathroom door, and just before my cheeks hit the porcelain, I caught a glimpse. Yep. Curled up and almost fully hidden, tucked between the tank and the back wall, was Mr. Insecure himself.

Now, if I was the reader of this story, my initial thought would be, that I could hold it. But there comes a time in every man's life when he has to make a choice. And at that moment, the only choice I could think to make was to gamble. Red Belly or Cottonmouth.

As I sat there and the seconds went by with a snake just inches from my feet, it occurred to me that I could reach the mirror hanging on the wall. I slowly reached for the mirror and placed it where I was able to see the slightest reflection of a red belly glaring off the white tile floor. Total relief.

I finished my business, grab the snake tongs, and escorted Mr. Insecure back to the Jungle.

Red Belly Water snakes disguise themselves as Cottonmouths because they’re not as secure as their hemotoxic venom-carrying cousins. One of their defenses is to act like another snake entirely. Who would have thought a snake needed to act like another snake… at any time.

Turns out, quite a few critters do the same thing. There’s even a species of spider named the “False Black Widow.” Talk about an identity crisis!

Insecurity gets to all of us in some way or another. I’m insecure about the way I walk. I just am. I don’t know why, or where it came from, one day it just appeared. The problem is, when we think of ourselves as less than, or not good enough, we take on different forms and put on all kinds of masks or lash out in rash displays of emotion to make up for those falsehoods we tell ourselves.

Red Bellies act like Cottonmouths when they feel their life is threatened. We use the same tactics when we feel threatened. Especially when we’re children. Children act in any way they deem necessary in order to get their needs met. Oftentimes, those unmet needs trickle into our adulthood. They show up in how we deal with relationships, careers, and self-esteem. It’s not unlikely for us to chase money, power, or status the same way the Red Belly Water Snake feels he needs to have venom glands – for survival as well as acceptance.

Dirt, herds. Whether it’s tires, cows, or snakes, he couldn’t act like a Shihtzu if I paid him in filet mignons. Dirt being Dirt is why I love him. Mud being Mud is why I love him. Their recovering codependent father certainly looks to them as examples of how to navigate hard situations and common adversities.

They know they deserve to be loved for exactly who they are, I’m learning it’s time for me to start doing the same.