So, there was this snake…

There was hooting. There was shouting.

And, I ignored it.

I was in my happy place.

Snuggled on the couch with a cat watching NCIS on Netflix.

That didn’t last.

“Mom. Mom! There’s a snake on the car!”

“Hmm. What?”

“A snake. On the car.”


I popped my head over the balcony.

There was a snake.

A big snake.

Not anaconda big.

But bigger than I wanted it to be.

I live in the damn suburbs.

Practically in the city center.

Why is there a snake on my car?

I was not going to be deterred, neither did I wish to see it killed by the very freaked out people in the street.

I got this.

I grabbed the braai tongs and stalked out to care of business.

Aunty Pam, who worked at the snake park, made it look really easy.

Turns out, picking up a snake with some tongs is not easy at all.

Snakes are very wiggly.

My children watched with fascination from the safety of the balcony.

Anyway, I coaxed it in the direction of the storm drain.

A very irritated owl huffed at me from the light pole and flew off.

I think I ruined his dinner.

People keep asking me what kind of snake it was.

It was a SNAKE people! Who cares!

I assumed, based on a recent neighbourhood Facebook post, that it was the non-venomous type. Probably just a brown house snake.

Some research proved me wrong. Turns out it was probably a stiletto snake. At least, this is the picture it most closely resembled. And stiletto snakes are very bad news. I’m somewhat glad I didn’t know this when I was channeling my inner Steve Irwin.

Not very awe inspiring in snake fetish circles, but plenty of excitement in mine.

My son said, “That is the most kickass thing I have ever seen you do.”

I don’t want to admit that I’m too scared to drive the car, in case it went back into the engine bay.

In the meantime…

I’m a kickass, snake wrangling mom.

Beat that soccer moms.