I lived in TX for nearly 10 years. We moved there at a time when there was a great influx of people moving in from the west and the northeast. They were throwing up houses by the dozens to accomodate all the buyers.
We went down over the Memorial Day weekend to pick out our house, made an offer, and secured a house still “in sticks” in the last 1/2 day of our trip with just enough time left over to make it back to the airport and home. The house was my 2nd choice. The house I really wanted was not far enough along in its construction to have a price on it yet, and we couldn’t wait around and negotiate. I was really hoping that when we came back to pick out our finishing details a few weeks later, that we could trade up for the house around the corner that I liked better.
No such luck: a family had already moved in my favored house, which miraculously had been finished before mine.
I met the lady who bought the house and she invited me in to see how she had decorated. And she told me a story that made me realize that I did not want that house after all.
Her house was located right across the street from a marshy area. The family moved in. After her husband had left for work and her kids had left for school, the lady was picking up the master bedroom and making the bed. She’d tossed some pillows under the window when they went to bed the night before. There, sunning himself in the morning light, was a HUGE snake. She backed out of the room and called the builder who had a sales office right in the subdivision. The conversation went like this:
Lady: “Is Mr. So and so there?”
Voice on the other end: “No, he’s out of the office”
Lady: “Is Mr. Fol de rol there?”
Voice: “No Ma’am, he’s out on a job.”
Lady: “Who are you?”
Voice: “This is Mr. 3rd superintendant.”
Lady: “You’ll do. Get over to 101 Apple Valley Circle RIGHT NOW and bring a weapon. There is a snake in my bedroom.”
A few minutes later Mr. 3rd Superintendant showed up with a sharp hoe and dispatched a large Cotton Mouthed Moccasin to never never land. They figured that the snake had slithered in when the carpenters were finishing the house, and nobody had noticed. The builders were starting another house on the land across the street and probably disrupted the snake’s usual sunning spot.
I decided right then and there that I did not want her house under any circumstances. That my house was just fine — even though it had one less bedroom and one less garage. That I would not live in her house if they GAVE it to me.
In the whole ten years I lived there, I never saw another snake, except one that my cat caught.
I've had large snakes in the yard when I lived in the city, along with turtles, raccoon, opossum, and skunk. This is only the thrid snake of this size that I've seen since I moved to the Hill Country.