WARNING: If you are squeamish about reptiles (particularly headless ones), DO NOT look at the pictures below.
For the past few months, we've noticed a decline in egg production in our backyard coop. In fact, Trevor and I discussed this, in-depth, just two days ago. Since our hens are very healthy, we ruled-out any problems relating to their productivity. We finally came to two very possible conclusions: 1) An animal was eating our eggs, or 2) Someone was taking the eggs.
In truth, we had almost ruled-out #1, because the hens usually let us know if there's another animal out there (they sound an alarm-- imagine supersonic squawks/clucking for over an hour x 4) and we had already relocated mama and 6 baby opossums over two weeks ago.
#2 seemed the most plausible, since we had seen 3 eggs in the coop when we checked each morning for two mornings last week, but the eggs were gone in the afternoon (after returning from running errands around town) when we went to collect them.
This morning, we awoke to our hens screeching, squawking, clucking, and running around our backyard like it was doomsday. Trevor rushed into the backyard to see what all the fuss was about, and curiously watched as the chickens barricaded themselves into our shed, continuing their cries. After examining the chickens and the backyard, he declared all was well. He didn't see any predators or anything out of place. As he watched the hens nestle-down in the shed to lay eggs, he chalked-up their bizarre behavior to being chickens and FEMALE (side note: Anyone else want to thump him in the head for that comment/conclusion?!)
An hour later, Aisling wandered outside to enjoy the beautiful morning, and she stumbled across this snake slithering towards the shed.
Of course, he wasn't headless at the time. In fact, Trevor and Aisling tried really hard to help him not have to be decapitated. In Southern Louisiana, as long as the snake isn't poisonous, the snake is our friend. (Do you know how many mice, rats, and nutria live and breed down here? The enemy of my enemy is my friend; although, not that intimate of a friend.)
But sadly, Mr. Rat Snake refused to relocate. He had been living the high-life in the bushes behind the coop, believing his "free lunch" ride would never end. He was healthy, happy, and large. No man and little girl (I watched from the bedroom window cheering them on) with rakes were going to end that. Mr. Snake was unafraid and immovable, and when finally forced to flee, he stubbornly came right back to the bushes behind the coop.
In the end, Trevor (and a shovel) prevailed, but sadly, Mr. Rat Snake never lived to repent of his stubbornness and gluttony.
Aisling was sorry that he had to die, especially since he was such a "beautiful snake". (Notice her carressing his scales above.) But, she soon made an opportunity of his tragic end by cutting off some of his shiny scales as a keepsake. (No worries. I won't show pictures of that.)
Mystery solved. Until another rat snake moves in next week.
For the past few months, we've noticed a decline in egg production in our backyard coop. In fact, Trevor and I discussed this, in-depth, just two days ago. Since our hens are very healthy, we ruled-out any problems relating to their productivity. We finally came to two very possible conclusions: 1) An animal was eating our eggs, or 2) Someone was taking the eggs.
In truth, we had almost ruled-out #1, because the hens usually let us know if there's another animal out there (they sound an alarm-- imagine supersonic squawks/clucking for over an hour x 4) and we had already relocated mama and 6 baby opossums over two weeks ago.
#2 seemed the most plausible, since we had seen 3 eggs in the coop when we checked each morning for two mornings last week, but the eggs were gone in the afternoon (after returning from running errands around town) when we went to collect them.
This morning, we awoke to our hens screeching, squawking, clucking, and running around our backyard like it was doomsday. Trevor rushed into the backyard to see what all the fuss was about, and curiously watched as the chickens barricaded themselves into our shed, continuing their cries. After examining the chickens and the backyard, he declared all was well. He didn't see any predators or anything out of place. As he watched the hens nestle-down in the shed to lay eggs, he chalked-up their bizarre behavior to being chickens and FEMALE (side note: Anyone else want to thump him in the head for that comment/conclusion?!)
An hour later, Aisling wandered outside to enjoy the beautiful morning, and she stumbled across this snake slithering towards the shed.
Of course, he wasn't headless at the time. In fact, Trevor and Aisling tried really hard to help him not have to be decapitated. In Southern Louisiana, as long as the snake isn't poisonous, the snake is our friend. (Do you know how many mice, rats, and nutria live and breed down here? The enemy of my enemy is my friend; although, not that intimate of a friend.)
But sadly, Mr. Rat Snake refused to relocate. He had been living the high-life in the bushes behind the coop, believing his "free lunch" ride would never end. He was healthy, happy, and large. No man and little girl (I watched from the bedroom window cheering them on) with rakes were going to end that. Mr. Snake was unafraid and immovable, and when finally forced to flee, he stubbornly came right back to the bushes behind the coop.
In the end, Trevor (and a shovel) prevailed, but sadly, Mr. Rat Snake never lived to repent of his stubbornness and gluttony.
Aisling was sorry that he had to die, especially since he was such a "beautiful snake". (Notice her carressing his scales above.) But, she soon made an opportunity of his tragic end by cutting off some of his shiny scales as a keepsake. (No worries. I won't show pictures of that.)
Mystery solved. Until another rat snake moves in next week.
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