A Snake in the Grass

     I was walking in one of my favorite nature preserves a few days ago enjoying the late autumn view of oak trees turned a ruddy red and tall, green Norway pines that rose above a steep ravine of tall-grass prairie. Because of the incline, I looked down as I climbed and saw a funny, dark brown stick lying completely straight in the tangle of dead grasses. Its color was different from anything close by. It was very thin -- thinner than a pencil -- and about that long. Instinctively, I stepped over it, then turned back to see if it was a snake or in fact just a stick. I don't like snakes, creepy silent things, but it was so small and lay so still I couldn't resist investigating. What I took to be the front tip was rounded and slightly bigger, as a head would be, and the back end narrowed to a point. But it wasn't a baby garter snake -- weren't they green?

     'Nudge it; make sure,' I said to myself. 'Oh no,' I thought, 'I am being as brave as I can be right now. No sense in overdoing it.' But why was it so motionless? Was something so tiny capable of enough instinct to even sense my presence? It was probably a baby -- a day, or hour or two old. 'Maybe,' I thought, 'it is just a stick after all.'
I stepped back a pace and in turn stayed perfectly still. The sun shone on the little object. I waited. And waited. It moved; it was alive. I stepped forward and it froze, a slight curl now in its slender body. I froze. And waited. It raised its head eyeing the tall grass on the opposite side of the path to which it had now come, then slithered into it. Noiselessly. A little proud of my naturalist's instincts and very proud of my courage against such scary creature I turned to continue my trek up the hill and jumped involuntarily at the sight of a thick black form in the grass.

     Oh my, it was a branch in the path, nothing like a snake. But so much for bravery; I had snakes on my mind and my instincts, like the little brown slider's, were in perfectly good condition.