The only good snake is a dead snake

Live ones, dead ones or rubber ones...it doesn't matter.

When it comes to snakes, I don't like them.

Ever the prankster, my dad would place a rubber snake on a newspaper coming down the conveyor belt in our mailroom here at the Ledger and sit back to watch the reaction of the unfortunate employee who happened to be stacking papers at the time.

One poor soul, upon seeing the snake, took off running out the back door and we haven't seen him since.

If Dad really wanted a reaction, he'd casually toss the snake at someone. Everyone thought this was hilarious - everyone but the target.

A few days ago, I received an e-mail with a picture of a snake killed on an Upstate golf course. As you can see, that was one large, mean-looking snake. I'll wager the golfer who stumbled upon it did not play too good for the rest of his round.

It's images like this that cause me to be a bit hesitant to look for golf balls that stray into the woods or water's edge.

Call me lazy or call me chicken, but I just don't care to go beating around in the bushes looking for lost golf balls - yours or mine.

This past Sunday I was playing in a tournament with my cousin Larry. It quite possibly was the worst I have ever played. I don't think I played that bad the first time I picked up a club.

I lost count of the number of balls I lost. But they weren't lost for lack of looking. Cousin Larry does not know the meaning of the word 'lost.' He never met a ball he couldn't find.

After about my sixth 'lost' ball, I just sat in the cart pouting while Larry scoured the brambles and briars looking for my errant shots.

Near the end of the torture, I mean round, I hit one into the edge of a lake near the green. I sat in the cart waiting on Larry and our playing partners to putt out, but Larry walked to the edge of the lake where my ball had landed minutes before.

He was fishing around apparently looking for it when he jumped back, almost knocking the other two guys down.

"Hey, there's a snake!"

Now most folks would just kind of back away and get on with their golf.

Not these three.

It was like yelling "fight" in the lunchroom at school. They crowded the bank and Larry began digging into the water with his putter trying to get the snake.

"Come over and look at this thing," Larry yelled at me.

"I'm fine right here."

He succeeded in getting hold of the snake and tried to flip it onto the bank, but something went wrong and the snake landed at their feet.

Picture this. Three grown men jumping back and then, having regained their courage, begin pounding the ground with their golf clubs.

I think they finally killed it.

About a week before, we came across a dead garter snake at Cherokee National. Harmless, you say? Depends on what you mean by harmless. Could it kill you with a poisonous bite? No. Could it squeeze you death? Hardly. It was less than 12 inches long.

But could it startle someone who has no use for snakes - live ones, dead ones or rubber ones - and cause their heart to skip a beat or even stop? Quite possibly.

You can probably guess how thrilled I was when my wife called Monday afternoon to inform me that "We have a snake in the yard!"

Since she had taken care of the black snake we found in our house several years ago, I figured she had disposed of this one as well.

I was wrong. She was a bit excited and anxious. This is what she said next and to get the real picture of her state of mind, read it real fast and in a highpitched voice:

"He went into a hole. I saw his head. I thought it was a frog at first. There're two holes. I guess he's nesting down there. What kind of snake lives in a hole? Call David Parker (Clemson Extension Agent). It's right where you were cutting grass last night. Next time you cut grass you better wear boots."

She said more, but I couldn't understand.

All I know is that when I leave the office today (Tuesday) I've got to go home a deal with a snake in a hole in my yard.

I think I'll work late.

Cody Sossamon (cody@gaffneyledger.com) is publisher of The Gaffney Ledger.