OPINION? EVERYBODY HAS ONE: Sometimes it's hard to be tough

— I admitted a couple of years ago that I am scared, frightened and panicky where snakes are concerned. I suppose they are one of the creatures from the beginning and are maybe not all evil, but they always have those little beady eyes and the forked tongue. They slither around and could, or could not, be slimy. I have not touched one to find out. And may I add, I do not intend to at this time.

My close relative will never run when she sees a snake. She will go get the shovel and chop the head off of a reptile she finds offensive. Black snakes of gargantuan sizes do not even faze her, she deftly grabs them by the tail and flings them into the cow pasture or the barn lot. Makes me shudder and have chills!

I was moving some big bales of hay last night andtrying to make room in the hay shed for more. It was getting late and the sun had already gone down and I was tired. We worked a long day, stopped only forlunch and a parts run. The offspring are able to stand 12-hour days better than this old man, and we all recognize that age continues to creep up on us.

I lifted a bale with the tractor and a big old slithering snake made a run straight for the tractor. I knew he was mad, and I figured he was after me for bothering his nest. Since I have been told for years that the snake won’t hurt me, I calmly killed the tractor, outran that snake to the horse barn and let the dang old thing have his choice of all the bales to slither under.

The next few minutes are not in my memory. The same thing happens to most of us when we are in terrible accidents. Some lose weeks, and I was fortunate to only lose a few minutes! Trauma is trauma, no matter how you spell it! My head hurt and my teeth were chattering. I have no idea how I ripped the sleeve on my shirt from the elbow to the shoulder seam.

Not only was I traumatized, I am also a povertystricken cattleman, so I had enough sense to kill the tractor before running for my life! That surely would be my salvation as I reiterated the story to my close relative.

I finished the chores by feeding those barn cats some of the cat food I am forced to buy, and hung around brushing old Snip until I could actually breathe normally. My family knows I am terrified of reptiles, but I wanted to appear calm.

It didn’t help one bit ‘cause I was laughed at, scorned, pitied and might as well have been put in stocks on the town square. My close relative had to hear the whole story when she found the ripped sleeve, and I stuttered when I tried to answer.

It is my opinion, and everyone has one, being tough is a tough job. I try to keep the whining down to a minimum, don’t cry over hangnails and suck it up when I feel bad; but sometimes I wish my sainted mother was here to just pat me on the head. A little understanding and extra whipped cream on the berry cobbler could go a long way!

Bill is a pen name used by the Gravette author of this weekly column.

Opinion, Pages 6 on 06/20/2012