This past Sunday, while Emma Grace was sunbathing with the girls on their last Sunday before outreach…
…and Joshua and his best bud were playing with his new toys from his birthday party…
I walked to our room to get something. The door was cracked and Jeremy was taking an afternoon snooze. As I approached, something caught my eye. A baby snake was crawling through the crack! Then it was chaos. “Jeremy!” “What!?” “A snake!” Grab broom. Smack! Smack! Smack! “Did you get it?” “No!” Smack! Smack! Smack! Noise dies down. Out walks Jeremy, broken broom, and a dead snake.

Now in my 2 years of living here, I’ve only had 4 encounters with snakes. And the story I just told was a bit on the dramatic side (although very real). Our first week of living here, we had a snake enter our house through a window and curl itself up in said window. I happened to discover it.
Last year, I was having a one on one conversation with a friend when a cobra decided to quietly slither to our meeting spot and pop up its head. How did I know it was a cobra? Because it’s head looked like this…
The other snake incident is not entirely mine to claim. Although I did witness it. When we went for the wedding, the family whose camper we were staying in went to start the braai when the husband discovered a baby puff adder. Jeremy and I quickly ran over. I had never seen one before and was curious what it looked like. We witnessed the killing.
Now all these snake stories might seem a bit scary to some (although they don’t compare with some that I’ve heard), but honestly, what would I write about if not for these exciting tales of discovery, triumph, and killing?
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