A Snake in the Boot

It rained last Thursday night and the patio was still wet on Friday morning. I grabbed my gumboots, which reside just outside the sliding door, and slipped them on. “Yikes – what was that?” I asked Duma, my ridgeback shadow.

I knew something had taken up refuge in my boot as soon as my right foot touched the ground. I managed to withdraw it before putting any weight down and shook the boot out.

Countless books on the wide outdoors warn that you should shake your shoes out before putting them on. Once I crushed a creature in my boot – a snail that went “crunch” and spread slime over my socks. This time, I knew it wasn’t a snail but was certainly not expecting the tiny snake that dropped to the ground after I’d given the boot a hard knock.

It was brown, thin and around 20 centimetres long. Recognising it as a harmless common slug-eater, I picked it up by its tail to move it to a safer location. It didn’t like that and started to twist around, setting Duma on high alert. I told him not to be foolish and tossed the reptile into a nearby fern.

Many people back away from snakes in fear. Indeed, most snakes justify such a reaction, but slug-eaters are different. Up to 40 centimetres in length, they’re completely harmless. Except to slugs and snails, their only food source.

Naturally shy creatures, slug-eaters normally hide away under lawn edges or leaf litter. Not long ago I disturbed one when I was clearing fallen leaves off the path down to the river. It was tightly rolled in a messy tangle, which is why it’s called a “tabakrolletjie” in Afrikaans.

I picked it up, laid it on the palm of my hand and watched it unroll, head-first. There’s something beautiful about the way a snake moves. I let it slide sinuously through my fingers, playing it between my hands, marvelling at the cool and smooth feeling, watching its tiny forked tongue flick in and out. Eventually, I lowered my hand to the ground and it slithered off into the undergrowth.

Other creatures in our garden are not always so kind to slug-eaters. Once, I found one being attacked by Trixie, a little terrier I thought would never harm a fly. But a terrier is a terrier: she dealt a mortal blow before I could intervene.

Another time, Siegie and I were idly watching a group of hadedas aerating the lawn with their long bills in search of a tasty worm or caterpillar. One of them was probing along the edging when it suddenly pulled out a fully grown slug-eater. You could almost see the shock as it wondered what to do with the wriggling reptile. Fortunately, it dropped it and the snake beat a hasty retreat.

Yesterday was a perfect gardening day. Picking up my boots, and mindful of Friday’s experience, I knocked them against the wall and tipped them upside down. Blow me down – the same little snake spilled out. Silly little snake. You can’t hold me responsible if you get crushed.