One more Quinn Farm story

My brother Colin and I were down on the farm alone as teenagers. It was a warm summer day and I was sitting on the porch swing reading when a black snake poked its head thru the floorboards of the porch. I pulled my feet up onto the swing and yelled for Colin to come get rid of the snake for me.

Now, black snakes are not poisonous and are benficial on a farm as they kill rats, but that doesn't make them any more attractive to me...a snake is a snake. Colin came to the rescue...pulled the snake thru the hole, whirled it over his head like a lasso and let it fly as far from the house as possible. I was very grateful, but got much teasing.

Night time on the farm is blacker than a cave and you literally can't see your hand in front of your face. The only water supply at that time was a pump on the porch. In the middle of the night I heard Colin get up and go outside for a drink at the pump. The door creaked, his footsteps fell across the floorboards of the porch, and then...THE most bloodcurdling scream I have ever heard. I was sure someone had hit him with an axe or Bigfoot had smacked him in the head. Grabbing a flashlight, I ran to the rescue.

There stood my little brother, white as a sheet, with his hair standing on end. Around the handle of the pump was curled a familiar-looking blacksnake! Since we have rattlers and copperheads on the farm aplenty, his fear was justified, but the mere act of grabbing a snake in the dark is a heart-stopper.