Snakes are back … and they still scare me

The chances of being bit by a rattlesnake within the U.S. are slim. Approximately 8,000 humans are bitten by venomous snakes in the United States each year, according to the U.S. Food and Drug Administration. The chances of being bit by a snake in California are also small. About 300-plus rattlesnake bites to humans are reported to the California Poison Control System. Unfortunately, 150,000 dogs and cats in the United States are bitten by the venomous snakes. Although I theoretically know the risk is low for at least humans, my heart frantically races when I see any kind of reptile sliding throughout my backyard or slithering on my front entryway. My family says I have a snake phobia but I'm just accepting reality and my experiences throughout the decades. Even if I don't see them once the calendar says March 1, I know the ophidians are awake from their too-short hibernation period and are back in the neighborhood. I've had far too many encounters with the creatures to be able to pretend that they're not here. To borrow a Beatles song lyric, they're here, there and everywhere. And, starting when I was in college, I attract snakes, no matter where I call home. For example, I went tubing in the Ichetucknee Springs River to relax after midterm exams my junior year at the University of Florida. Instead of enjoying the crystal-clear water, the smooth sailing and sounds of birds singing, I was on edge when I saw a water moccasin bobbing next to the tube. I was afraid to shower that night, imagining snakes coming through the shower head, and I had nightmares for weeks. Fast-forward to Lake of the Pines and Nevada City and several neighbors assured me there were no snakey visitors. That might have been true for them but not along my Lake of the Pines front yard creek, or a few years later, my Nevada City backyard hill. When I decided to move from my first house in Lincoln eight years ago, a black snake with a triangular-shaped head suddenly appeared every few days under my rose bushes. Not thrilled about my upcoming move, I left my garage door open for three minutes to bring in moving boxes from the garage, hoping that would motivate me to start packing. Imagine my surprise when I saw a skinny black tail sticking out from my favorite couch that I would sometimes fall asleep on while watching late-night TV downstairs. After freaking myself out and also scaring the snake with my screams, I somehow got the dustpan out and swept up the intruder. I avoided the downstairs for a week and I didn't go near the couch until moving three months later. Telling myself that the last snake encounter was just an anomaly didn't last long. The day I moved into my next Lincoln house less than three miles away, I learned that I couldn't escape the varmints when the previous homeowner's son picked up some tools. He told me that his parents forgot to disclose that four rattlesnakes traveled across my new backyard when they lived there for seven years and I froze. If I had known that detail before, it would have been an instant deal-breaker. Previously, I asked my Realtor if the area had rattlesnakes and she told me not to be silly. I didn't feel too silly three months later, though, when a baby rattler was one inch from my front door. Instead, I felt fear as I swept that snake with a broom all the way to the street. I called a neighbor who releases snakes to the wild and was shocked to hear that it was a real rattler at my front door. That occurred in late October, when they're supposed to start hibernating. Is it any wonder that I've had recurring nightmares of seeing snakes up close and personal? After I saw a racer and some other weird snake in my backyard two weeks ago, my neighbor told me that a rattler entered a garage diagonally across the street. I'm not happy about the snakes being underfoot. But they're not leaving anytime soon. So I don't let my dog out at night in the backyard where I've seen numerous snakes. And I cut my bushes as much as I can to expose the reptiles' hiding spots. I also have the front yard armed with lights so I can see what's on the ground and I carry a flashlight when I'm outside with my dog after dark. Until snake season is over, I will keep looking down near my feet and my pup's paws just in case a viper crosses our paths. That's not paranoia; I'm dealing with the fact that snakes live here too.