We live on a two acre tree-covered lot. It slopes down to a wet-weather creek. The creek flows much of the year. As a result, we are well-supplied with water-loving creatures: frogs, snakes, and mosquitoes. We keep it free of overgrowth, but we don’t hang around out there.

That brings me to our black cat, Socks. He was a sweetheart, regularly gifting us with mice, moles, and the occasional snake. We soon learned not to automatically open the door without d checking to see what gift he be bearing.

Socks particularly liked hunting snakes. He’d make for the creek, seeking them out, turning over, rocks, and branches, slapping at the water. His encounters weren’t happenstance. From a distance, you tell when he found his prey. He’d go from stalking to attack in seconds,

Most often, he’d fare well, bringing a floppy snake to play with. Twice he went missing for about three days, finally returning with a softball-sized head and healing fang -marks. He’d keep close to home for a few days before returning to to hunt.

Sadly, after a few years, Socks went missing, presumably suffering a fatal snake encounter.