Never a dull moment around here.
Today the house filled with smoke because oldest son was tanning a pigskin by the smoking method. Smoke was so thick (using the green branches from the trees we downed on Saturday) that even though he had the fire in a pit at the edge of the property, the whole inside of the house smells like a campsite.
Then I hear the cry: Rattlesnake! Youngest daughter comes charging in saying there is a rattlesnake by the pit all coiled up! She almost stepped on it!
I gather my .22 Henry and head out. The boys are standing near the muscadine vines saying, "Hurry Dad, hurry Dad. He's going into the bushes!"
I load, take aim and fire near the head-blowing a hole clear through, and then again. This snake keeps moving, but he isn't big. Only a foot long, and I am not seeing diamonds on the back. But I take his head off with a shovel. No rattle, no diamonds. One of the boys insists still it is a baby rattlesnake, but older brother says its a hog snake. (How appropriate around here!)
I think this is the end of the story...but 30 minutes later Mrs. Curley calls from downstairs that the boys are preparing my dinner. Sure enough they have skinned and eviscerated the snake and want to fry him up. (They tell me his last meal was an earthworm. Do snakes eat worms?) My boys tell me that the Indians in Mexico believe fried rattlesnake cures diabetes. So they think a fried hog snake will too.
I love my family! (Mrs. Curley thinks we are going too country...)
Oremus pro invicem!