It's been hot here, hot and still and a bit humid. It doesn't cool down a whole lot during the night; and cool nights are one of the things I most love about living in the mountains. Tonight we waited for the sun to drop below the ridge before doing chores. It was still hot -- 92F. Of course, that's better than the 108F it was at my office when I left but still... ugh.
I started mucking the donkey pasture first. As I trudged along, pulling the muck cart, shuffling my feet in a weary slog with my head down, I noticed a branch under the oak tree. A white branch. Like a birch or an aspen. My brain slowly wrapped itself around that thought and reminded me that we have grey-black oak trees here; not birch or aspen.
I walked over for a closer look. Eek! Snake! ...headless snake!
Most likely a gopher snake. A big one.
But what killed it? Did the donkeys stomp on it? And where on earth was the head?
I asked them to come over for a family conference.
They were all ears.
But not very forthcoming on details.
Brett tossed the snake in the garbage
and I starting mucking the mare's pasture.
Any theories on how the snake was killed from my readers?