As you know, if you have read previous blogs, I live with several cats. They are all freaky and afraid of most people, but me, but other than that they all have their distinct habits and personalities. Two of them, Sojourner Snake and Squeaker Marie usually come in by about 10 at night and stay, but the other two, Little Brother and the Thinger, frequently stay out until the wee hours of the morning, or even all night, in Little Brother's case, if the weather is warm and fine.

Because of this I like to see each that is still outside before I go to sleep, usually about 2 or 3 in the morning, although sometimes earlier. But whenever I am going to sleep I go into the yard to spot each of them and say good night and be careful. They have their own door so they can come in when they want. Brother is usually in the front yard and Thing is usually in the back, or in the woods behind the house.

One night a few months ago, when it was warm and fine, I was going to bed early, about 11 PM. Thinger was on the back patio so I said my formula, "Good Night. I love you. Be careful." Then I went to the front. My door is on the side, far back from the street, and usually Brother is in the part of the yard closest to the door, but this night he wasn't. I walked down the sidewalk and could see him laying in the grass close to the street, which I did not like. He looked at me, but didn't come when I called, so I walked down to him to encourage him to return to his usual place by the door.

As I approached him I notice something funny about my mailbox. The mail box is set on a wrought iron stand with curlies and holes and things and it appeared that someone had twisted a rope or yellow hose through it. Now the neighbors across the street backed into it once and I thought, well, maybe they did it again and broke it and jury rigged some sort of repair. Brother watched me as I walked closer and then turned and continued studying the mailbox. As I got closer I saw that the rope was a snake, who had climbed the mailbox and wrapped around the stand. I intuited in a moment what had happened. Little Brother had probably been laying in the grass when the snake crawled by and had followed him, patting, as cats do, and the poor snake had gone up the first thing he had come to; my mailbox.

I moved closer to Brother and the really snake. (I call him that to differentiate from the cat I call the Snake.) He was a big snake, compared to the little ones that Squeaker Marie catches and brings in the house, probably four feet long and half as big around as my wrist. (I have very slender wrists.) He appeared bright yellow, but to this day I don't know for sure, because you know how colors change under street lights, and he had black diamond markings. When I saw these my heart lurched for fear he was a rattlesnake, because then he would be harder to help, although I hadn't heard any sounds and I didn't think a rattlesnake that size would have run from Brother, although snakes stay away from cats. I walked around the mailbox to view his tail and sure enough he was not a rattler. He had raised his head to watch me; it was a small head, I thought, for a snake that size, and he wove it in the pretty, graceful way snakes have.

I pondered my next action. I could not leave him there, even if I took Brother in and closed the cat door, because he might have crawled down and gotten in the street and been run over, or if he was around when the sun came up mean people might kill him. If I had had to I could have grasped him and moved him to safety, but fortunately I have a neighbor who has snakes. I would like to have a snake, but I don't like having caged pets, and I would have to have one that ate eggs or something like that, or I couldn't feed it, and of course, there's the cats, who surely wouldn't accept a snake housemate.

I looked at my neighbor's and could still see a light in his bedroom window, so I went and knocked on his door. When he came I told him there was a snake on the mailbox that I needed him to help me save. He was startled but gamely put on his moccasins and followed me to the street. When we got there the snake and Brother had not moved. My neighbor showed a hesitancy I would not have expected from one who lived with snakes and asked me what we should do. I asked him if he couldn't grab the snake behind the head like they do on Wild Kingdom and he agreed that he could, so he did. He later told me the snake had nipped him a little, but had not broken the skin. We both knew he wasn't poisonous anyway. My neighbor thought he was something called a corn snake, but not being up on snakes I can't confirm.

Being quite entwined in the wrought iron I had to untangle him, so I did, weaving him in and out while my neighbor held his head. I don't get much of a chance to touch snakes and am always surprised at how dry and cool they feel. Once he was free he coiled up and rested on my neighbor's arm, against his body, and my neighbor let go of his head, which he raised and lowered and moved back and forth, looking around. He did not appear frightened or upset and did not try to get down. We took him to the back yard and the chain link fence that separates my yard from the woods. Thing was not around and Brother had not followed us.

My neighbor knelt in the grass and lowered the snake to the fence and put his head through an opening. Without hesitation the snake moved through the fence, into the woods, flowing from his arms, like water.