Bunnies That Slither

Gayle saw a water snake.  She saw the snake as we were poking around the banks of Hogum Creek where the water strokes back and forth between the cut banks and willows in the meadow just below my cabin.

The snake was not big.

Fortunately, Gayle is from Butte, America.  People from Butte, America tend to be tougher than most (think Evel Knievel here) and are therefore not afraid of much, or, as they typically proffer in Butte: “Ain’t afraid of shit.”

Gayle did not so much as squeak upon sighting the snake.  She calmly said something to the effect of: “Hey, there is a snake.”  She continued toeing about along the edge of the creek looking at pretty rocks and being tough at the same time.

Later in the day, Gayle shared the story of seeing the snake to Ginny, my cousin’s wife.

Ginny was not impressed. “What kind of snake?” she asked with a grimace.

“Just a water snake,” Gayle assured.

“There is no such thing as just a water snake,” Ginny said.  “Snake is the key word.  They are called snakes, not bunnies that slither.”

Ginny is fearful of any sort of snake.

Big fear.

Ginny and my cousin spent the weekend camping along the creek near my cabin.  For the rest of the weekend if we saw a deer, or a bird, or pretty much anything, we claimed to have seen a bunny that slithers.  As some folks say in my hometown of East Helena, Montana: “Them bastards were turning up everywhere!”

--Mitchell Hegman