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Garry Barker’s Head Of The Holler |
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Kentucky author Garry Barker was born in Otway, Ohio, in 1943, grew up in Elliott and Fleming Counties of Kentucky, graduated from Berea College and worked as an arts administrator and writer until he retired from Morehead State University. Barker lives at Bald Hill in Fleming County and is publisher of the Flemingsburg Gazette. He is the author of 10 published books and of “Head of the Holler,” a newspaper column that has run in regional newspapers since 1988. This site is columns, fun or fanciful, angry or sentimental, always concise and clear and related to rural Kentucky. Enjoy. Agree. Disagree. Respond. Comments are always welcome. Send your e-mails to headoftheholler@hotmail.com |
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We’re either off to a bad start this summer regarding snakes around the house or I have stumbled onto the ultimate snake-fighting weapon. The Cub Cadet lawn tractor, with a heavy-duty 42 inch blade, may very well be the modern reincarnation of Grandma’s razor-sharp garden hoe. First, late on a Sunday evening, I backed the Cub onto the garage and shut it off, never looking behind me, and then the next morning noticed about a five foot cow snake curled nearby. Dead, with its head neatly snipped off. Good tractor. I gave it an oil change to reward it. Last Sunday the Cub and I rolled around a bush and found two huge cowsnakes mating, twined together and obviously preoccupied, and I almost hated to interrupt. Almost. My foot slammed the pedal down and the Cub leapt forward. Stone steps kept us from getting a perfect angle, so we didn’t finish the job in one pass. So we turned, circled, and went back for more of the skirmish. One long snake, and we didn’t know if it was male or female, was slithering away, mostly intact. Not for long. A full throttle scamper up the bank caught the snake in the open and made mincemeat. Whatever mincemeat is. We made snake slices. Part of the second snake was about 20 feet away, so we mowed over it just to make sure. Then, breathing heavy (me, not the mower) we inspected the results. We assume we prevented a new litter, or whatever a nest of young cowsnakes are called, and eliminated two adults from any possible entry into the house. Last summer, a five-footer came into the kitchen one evening, resulting in many screams and screeches and some hoe to head combat. The dull and clumsy hoe won, maybe because the snake was sluggish from crawling through the air conditioner duct, but anytime a snake that long and fat gets in the house it causes blood pressure increases and asthma attacks. It’s not nearly as bad fighting snakes from the seat of a Cub Cadet. I still wish I’d had my gloves on, but a new pair that got too hot was tossed onto a table out front about two hours earlier. I’m not sure how to reward the Cub this time. Some high-test gasoline, maybe. A good bath. Maybe a spark plug. We know that cowsnakes are good to have around for eating mice, but our bunch seems more obsessed with swallowing young birds and frightening the humans. If they’d just stay way clear of the house we’d declare a truce. But they won’t. So we remain in a hostile state, with a loaded rifle, a Bowie knife, and a Scout revolver kept handy to repel invasions. With a hoe not too far away. Now, we’ve got the Cub Cadet, a proven veteran, helping us defend the property.
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HERE NOW from Wind Publications! Head of the Holler, Volume 1, a collection of columns spanning the first 10 years, finally available in book form. Starting with the very first column written for a monthly newspaper and counting down a decade, Garry Barker’s observations on the world around him in rural Kentucky have entertained newspaper readers since the late 1980s. . The 160 page paperback is $15 plus tax and shipping. Order from Wind Publications or any online bookseller.
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Could you spare a French fry, buddy? Rex, the Border Collie, shares lunch with Garry Barker at the offices of the Flemingsburg Gazette. |