Here on the farm we live our lives surrounded by other creatures. Some of them are domestic animals that belong to us, cows, sheep, rabbits, dogs, cats and horses. And chickens. They work for us; we work for them.


There are also wild things. We feed the birds, welcome itinerant frogs to the garden pond and hunt deer, squirrels and turkeys. Or at least the guys do.
However, there are other, less glamorous, and perhaps less welcome critters living here too. This time of year we become quite aware of some of them. For example the bats that live under the roofs of the barns are not really much noticed at any other time of year. They go to bed at dawn, come out at dark and hibernate in the winter, so even though we keep long hours we don’t meet them much. However, with the short days of fall they are still a-wing when we go to the barn in the morning and they emerge from their daytime stupor at around seven PM, intent on insect coursing. Even this wouldn’t be much of a problem if they hunted outdoors, but they like to eat flies in the cow barn. They also are not exactly impressed by human beings and swoop wildly around our heads if we don’t hustle to turn off the lights and head for the house. I don’t mind watching them flutter against the last strip of pink along the western horizon when I am sitting out by the garden pond after chores, but I wish they would wait until later to search the barn.

Then there are the snakes. We have a lot of them, milk snakes, garters, ring necks and once a big old hog-nosed that rattled his tail just like a diamondback when I walked too close. For the most part we don’t bother about them. All the real rattlesnakes are over on the other side of the river and the snakes here hunt more pests than helpful things. However, the one that has been sharing the garden pond with the frogs this summer has plumb worn out his welcome.
The first time I saw him was months ago during a real hot, dry spell. He was lounging in the water with his head on the side of the pond, looking like a scaly gigolo trolling for starlets. I grabbed him by the neck and gave him a toss, concerned that he was either after my goldfish or the frogs. We like to play a sort of “Where’s Waldo?” with the latter, scanning the water lettuce and lily pads for their carefully concealed hiding places. I think camouflage was invented by a green frog. Anyhow, things that eat frogs are unwelcome, as several barn cats have discovered to their damp discomfort. After I chucked him out the snake, a long, shiny garter, hung around but seemed to leave the amphibians and fish alone. He and I enjoyed the waterside in tentative harmony. He became so tame that he often popped out from between my feet when I sat in my red chair and slid quickly through the petunias, to rest on the side of the pond.
Then, yesterday when I was pulling out dead water lily leaves, all five current frogs leapt into the air and dove, hell bent for election, under the water. Woosh, there was Mr. Garter Snake gliding swiftly out to nab one. He missed, lucky for him. This time I hauled him down below the driveway and gave him a fling into the bushes there. He had better stay away. There has been some talk of snakeskin belts or hatbands around here since he showed his true colors.