Do I walk the talk?

Apparently the answer to that is, NO.

Our yard is home to many, many garter snakes. So many, in fact, that I can almost guarantee I will come across one EVERY time I am out in the yard. If I don't find one, the kids do... or the neighbor kids do. I have never lived in a place where the snakes were so populous. I'm not a huge fan of snakes, but the fact that I can identify these as your garden variety garter snakes puts my mind at ease. I figure they are keeping down populations of other critters I might find less desirable.

Anyway, it was the kids who first voiced concern over the fish pond in the yard and the snakes. They wondered if perhaps the snakes might eat our fish. My response, of course, was that it was silly to think those little snakes would eat our great big goldfish. We have some seriously good-sized fish in the pond. In fact, I kind of pictured the little snakes coming by now and then for a drink or maybe even a swim, but I honestly was not at all worried about them eating my fish.

Today we got home from a bike ride and I glanced out at the pond. "Oh look! A snake is at the pond." Little boy saw one taking a swim last week and I've seen them near the pond a few times now. Middle kid and I flung open the sliding glass doors to see if we could take a better look. About two steps from the house, my daughter let out a piercing scream. The snake was in the process of successfully pulling our BIG black fish right out of the pond... and by-golly if he wasn't ready to fight me for it.

I sent the girl back into the house where she relayed to her brother what was happening. I called the snake's bluff and it slithered under my tomato plant while I managed to scoop the flailing fish back into the pond.

Then, believe it or not, I took a few moments to contemplate the ways of the world, the circle of life, mother nature, yada yada yada.

Seriously.

I'm not kidding.

It was just a snake, after all, doing the thing that snakes apparently do... which is fishing... which I really wouldn't have believed before I saw it. So I'm thinking about things like the snake being predator/prey and my role in the universe that is my yard and keeping an eye on the tomato plant all the while because I didn't want the sucker to get away before I'd made my decision.

Finally, I turned and asked my kids to make themselves scarce. This wasn't going to be pretty. In short, THAT particular snake will no longer be fishing in my pond.

This was one of the larger garters I've seen in my yard and I figured since he already knew he could pull a fish from the pond, he was probably a pretty good threat. I considered relocating him... but he was already pretty hot that I had taken away his fish and I'm honestly quite the pansy when it comes to snakes. I don't mind waving at them from across the yard, but I'm not about getting up in their flickery-tongued faces and having any woman to snake chats.

Do I sound like I feel guilty about it? Yeah, I probably do. But you know what? I've got an enormous yard and I've been very friendly toward the garters that traverse there thus far. I think it's okay for me to stake out a little 8x10 plot in my own back yard and ask that snakes refrain from fishing there.

Of course I realize that this may not be the last snake to fish in my pond...the call of the wild and all that.

The kids found another largish garter on the other side of the house within a half-hour or so of the event. They were pretty sure it was the one I removed from the pond. Apparently they didn't catch my drift when I suggested things might turn ugly. And here enters my second sin of the day... I didn't correct them. I didn't tell them that there was no way in heck it could be the same snake middle girl was stroking, petting, and FORGIVING as the neighbor boy held it up for all to see.

What I've learned about garter snakes in the past hour:

• They do, in fact, eat fish and they are KNOWN for being aggressive predators and eating things much larger than themselves.
• Their children, born live, are independent from the moment of birth (whew -- no babies in the nest waiting to be fed).
• They average 23 snakelets (my word - does it sound made up?) per litter, but have been known to have up to 60.