RUNNING FOR HOME
John Laneri

As I was making the turn for home, I again heard movement in the brush beside the trail.

Curious, I stopped to take a closer look. For most of the day, I'd had the impression that a young bobcat had been following me—probably learning how to track. The footprints that I'd seen near the stream were clearly immature bobcat.

A few minutes later however, after failing to see movement in the thickets around me, I headed toward my truck, remembering that Maggie was expecting me to attend a dinner party with her club group later that evening.

As I started into the valley toward the creek, I spotted a snake, an exceptionally big one—its black body gleaming in the remaining sunlight. While snakes were common in the area, I rarely saw one in the open, especially one so big.

Quietly, I stepped behind a large bush and watched it pause near a tree then lift away from the ground and extend its body fully upright and turn from side to side as if searching.

Finally, when I saw it ease into a shadow beside the tree and coil, I began to wonder if it had been stalking me. Some snakes, I knew, were skilled trackers—a thought that sent a series of shivers racing along my spine as that inevitable burst of adrenalin kicked into my system.

Logic suggested that I move past it without being seen so I decided to backtrack and circle rather than take my chances on a direct confrontation. Soon I was making my way along the side of a rocky hill that would take me toward the creek.

Unexpectedly, the rocks were loose. A few broke away under my feet. I looked up. Suddenly, the snake rose from the ground and turned sharply toward me.

Our eyes met.

In an instant, I was running, my arms and legs pumping frantically, propelling me away—my fear taking control of my senses.

Finally, after covering what I thought was a safe distance, I looked back—no sign of the snake. For the moment I was safe, so I eased into a slow jog and continued down the hill.

As my panic began to subside, I started to wonder why I had been so foolish. After all, I was a professional naturalist, a person comfortable with the out of doors.

Near the creek, I settled into a fast walk and looked back to check my progress. That's when I saw it again—all six feet of black menacing snake moving like a demon, its body flying across the hillside, charging directly toward me.

Knowing that it was chasing me, I resumed running, my arms and legs charged with the terror coursing through my body. I chanced a look back. To my surprise, it was closer, its body whipping back and forth, gaining steadily.

I stumbled then fell, my momentum sending me tumbling into the creek.

Spitting out a mouthful of water, I looked about and spotted it across from me, watching from the bank, its eyes anticipating my next move. I took several steps to the side. It moved along with me. I turned in the other direction. It followed, the tongue flicking back and forth, the eyes intent.

Smart snake, I thought as I backed away and began wading toward the far side of the creek, confident that once I put the water behind me I'd be safe. I had to be smarter than a snake—at least that was my impression at the time.

It must have known what I intended because it slipped into the water and continued in my direction, its sleek body sliding smoothly across the surface directly toward me.

Turning away, I began a frenzied run up the last hill toward my truck—my screams louder than my cries for help. Near the ridge, I looked back and saw it come roaring out of the water.

Staggering on, I spotted my truck in the distance across an open plain. I started toward it, knowing that I was close to the end of my endurance.

Almost immediately, it was striking my pant leg—its body whipping back and forth, matching me stride for stride. Angling away, I glanced toward the truck and took another deep breath, digging deep to grasp whatever energy remained.

To my surprise, it edged ahead of me then suddenly, it turned and coiled, its mouth poised.

I sidestepped to avoid the thrust, but my shoe caught on a rock that sent me tumbling out of control. After that, it was on me, slithering across my shoulders and around my neck, its body dominating mine. I reached to fling it away, feeling its cool, muscular body then, coming to my feet, I sprinted the remaining few yards to the truck and threw myself inside, my nerves shot.

As I frantically dug into my pocket for the keys, I spotted the snake in front of the truck. Strangely, it stopped and looked back in my direction. Once our eyes met, I watched as it lifted off the ground and presented me with what I can only describe as a smile of satisfaction.

Ramming the gearshift into drive, I hit the gas intent on getting my revenge. But then, for reasons I cannot fully explain, I hit the brakes, skidded to a stop and waited until it had safely disappeared into the brush. Only then did I take a deep breath, settle back and head for home.

Maggie was not happy when I arrived late for her dinner party. As I tried to explain, it's not often one comes face to face with an aggressive snake.

Her group seemed enthralled by my story.

Naturally, I failed to mention that the snake had been a Black Racer, a non-poisonous species—one to be respected but certainly not feared.

© John Laneri 2005

John Laneri (jlaneri@houston.rr.com) lives in Houston where he enjoys writing for fun and for professional journals relating to nature and medical literature. The rest of his time is devoted to the company of his family and his passion for birding, golf and the horses, in that order.

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