Nate and the Copperhead

I know. Nate looks like he's enjoying all this attention. But at the time of this photo, he was drugged for pain, and thoroughly enthralled by the many snake and reptile tales of the 15 visitors in his hospital room.

Everyone has a snake story. Everyone. It may actually be their neighbor's best friend's sister-in-law's boyfriend's little brother's story, but it is also their own. Being a Florida native with one big brother, and several sons and grandsons like Nate, I have more than my share of snake stories. Here's the latest:

If you read my blog or follow me on Twitter, you are aware that my eleven year old grandson, Nate, has been pictured in here more than once. That's because he likes to hang out at his grandmother's house. We have a creek and a pasture, two small fish ponds and a place for swimming. A Man Yard, you might call it.

Nate, like so many boys, is a snake hunter.

He loves them. (No, my friend. Love is not too strong a word...) Personally, I don't understand love for an legless slithering animal with a tiny, smooth brain that contains nothing more than instinct, and with no arms to hold you, therefore no way to show affection; not to mention, with jaws that come unhinged to enable them to swallow small innocent creatures. I simply know that Snake and Reptile Love is a "boy thing".

As you can see, Nate is going to be all right, but his finger is black where he was bitten on the tip, and his hand is swolen.

I, on the other hand, am a worrier. It's what mothers do. It's in the job description, right at the top of the page. Strangely, considering that fact, my husband and I and our large family have lived on this Horseford Creek for 20 years, and on two other creeks and  a lake before that. Creeks are wonderful environments for children to explore, but also great habitats for snakes and other biting critters to live and thrive. This makes them a hazard for ambitious snake hunting boys and their mothers and grandmothers.

As the instincts of motherhood would have it, I have always counted the miles to the hospital when purchasing a home on water. The closer the better. This house is 1.05 miles to the nearest hospital. Excellent. However, I am always a bit worried when kids are playing in my yard. I do a lot of praying.

However, this snake bite happened to Nate on his own neighborhood street in front of his own yard while both of his parents were home. His story is that he reached down to pick up a racket in the road, and wham! Copperhead tooth in the tip of left forefinger. Ouch. (According to his dad, Nate can spot a 7" snake in tall grass from over a hill 100 yards away, but he didn't see this one beside the racket.)

A quick call to 911 brought at least 8 volunteer rescue workers immediately. According to my granddaughter, they were a great help and comfort, God bless them! Then the ambulance arrived. They live about 12 minutes from the hospital, but got there in plenty of time to get Nate to the help he required.

The snake turned out to be a small 18" Copperhead who could only manage to get one little tiny fang into Nate's left forefinger. Contrary to what you might think, smaller snakes often carry a bigger whallop when it comes to snake bites. As a result, Nate has so far received 6 vials of anti-venom over a two day period. Hopefully, that may be all he needs. The doctor may let him go home tonight, but wants to see him a few more times before doing so.

I'm way too tired to dazzle you with brilliant writing after a weekend like this. It's been rough, but especially for Nate's parents; and especially for his darling mother, my oldest child. She is handling things bravely, wisely, and lovingly. What a mama she is, and I am proud of her.

Thank God Nate is okay.

Let me say that again. THANK GOD that Nate is okay, and recovering quickly. Thank God for the rescue workers, doctors, anti-venom, and the wonderful hospital staff who are taking such good care of him.

God is good. Hallelujah!