Only the lonely

Saw a foot-long whip snake this morning on Pinky’s indoor bike. Must’ve slithered in from a hole in the window screen. Third time I encountered this type of snake. Did a shahai on the first one. 

Fortunately, I spotted this after two trips of sending the kids out to school. Expert friends (Joshua, Rei, and Sir Jun Lit) identified it as either Philippine whip snake or red whip snake, both classed as mildly venomous. Mating season is from November to January, Rei warns, so I should be wary of a possible hidden other. 

It was docile, and I’d hate to harm it. We used two laundry hanging rods to safely lead it away. Clumsy first attempts, but after figuring out its movement pattern (sidewinds to counter and escape) all that was needed was to keep it from seeking refuge in dark underspaces, fish it out immediately if it does, clear a path, and rush it out the door. Must be what hockey feels like.

Pinky asked what I thought when I found it, like, if mortality entered the picture. It didn’t. Or, it wasn’t the first or second thing. I puzzled over how I even noticed it. When I found it, the snake rested along the grooves of the indoor bike’s tread, head down, unmoving, perfectly camouflaged. By all accounts, I should’ve missed it. 

Later, during our fetching rounds, Pinky remembered how she once joked with Mang Luis, the housing office foreman, who once rounded up his crew to help us with a meter-long monitor lizard that managed to gain entry. “Mang Luis, may ahas sa bahay! Nakatuwalya pa!” 

We lost Mang Luis early this year. Now I’m thinking of the late Telesforo Sungkit, who we call Jun, who I tease with “Kabesang Tales,” an endearment which he maybe didn’t like (he’d smile just the same). He used to hunt snakes. Jun said they were more afraid of us than we were of them. That singular line has guided these few and far in between encounters with Ronald’s “danger noodle” and A’s “stringy boi”.