OK. I confess. It wasn’t on the plane. But it was snakes this time. Well, one snake, anyway.
As you might recall, our airport is built on a wildlife sanctuary. Not a bonafide official one, but a for-all-intents-and-purposes one. We have deer, coyotes, rabbits, lizards, turtles, and birds of every feather from crows to quail to vultures. And—I had been warned a year or two ago—rattlesnakes, although I had yet to see one.
That changed one fine day recently, and this is the tale:
I drove down to Santa Rosa to prep the plane for an upcoming mission. I parked right in front of the towering hangar doors, got out of the hotrod, and unlocked the padlock. I opened the latch and gave the left door a shove. With a metallic groan, the door rumbled open. Suddenly I heard the telltale dry rattle that all desert dwellers recognize: Rattlesnake.
I froze not because I’m afraid of rattlesnakes, but because—kid you not—the best way to get bitten by one is to step on it; and I knew I was close to stepping on this one because rattlesnakes only rattle when they feel threatened, and they don’t feel threated unless you are about to step on them.
Then all was silent. I scanned both sides of the door. No sign of the snake. I gingerly stepped back, reached as far out as I could, and nudged the door. Again the rattle of dry bones in dead leaves, and then the snake slithered out from under my door where it had been resting in the shade.
He, or maybe she, I don’t know how to tell, was smallish as rattlers go. Not even a yard long, and slender. Its head was shaped like a triangle, it had dark diamonds on its brown back, and a raccoon-like tail. It was a Western Diamondback. They’re the most common rattler in my neck of the woods, and have a reputation for being the most ill tempered of the rattlesnake family.
Some people kill rattlers on sight, but I bear them no ill will. They have the same right to space on the planet as I do, and given appropriate respect, they are no danger. And of course, this snake posed zero risk to my airplane. In fact, it was probably hunting mice, which if they move into an airplane, can cause a great deal of damage. On the other hand, the damn rattlesnake is poisonous, so it’s not my first choice for pest control.
The bottom line was I wasn’t interested in killing this one, but I sure didn’t want it in my hangar, either.
The snake was still, tail toward the hangar door, about a foot away. I could ignore it and it would most likely go on its way. But there was always a chance that it might decide to move into the hangar. The way our doors work, it was unlikely that the snake could get inside when they are closed, but when they are wide open there is nothing to stop it, and I didn’t want to spend all day with one eye on it, nor did I want to chase it around the hangar if it came in to enjoy my shade.
I decided to shoo it off.
I fetched a broom and started thumping the ground behind its tail to encourage it to mosey on its way.
The snake stayed glued to the spot. I poked it with the broom but rather than flee it snapped itself into a coil and faced me, ready for a fight. I know that, when coiled, a rattler can strike about a third of its length; and although it was a small one, I went back into the hangar for a longer broom, determined to sweep this stubborn snake somewhere else. But as soon as I gave it a push the snake changed strategy. It bolted for the half-open door and slithered under it again where I couldn’t see it.
This was not working out the way I planned.
I set down the broom. I’d have to open the door fully and get serious with this snake. I started to push. There was a frantic rattling and the door hesitated. I shoved harder and the rattling stopped abruptly, then the door moved smoothly. As it slid open I discovered the poor snake, neatly be-headed by the door’s wheels, a feat I couldn’t have accomplished intentionally had I tried to set it up.
I felt a tiny bit badly. It wasn’t my intention to kill the snake. But I also felt a bit of relief. Now I didn’t have to worry about a rattlesnake in the hangar.
Or a snake in the plane.