‘Red against yellow
kill a fellow;
red against black
all right Jack’

This one was striped red against yellow.

The king snake on Sundown Ridge the other week coiled and hissed and didn’t move, a small mound of impotent fury. In contrast, the coral snake last night was bright, long and swift. It whipped across the road and through the long grass.

We have Africanized bees. Fire ants. Territorial dogs. Wasps, mosquitoes, chiggers, cacti, scorpions and spiders. Poison ivy. Occasional rabid bat, skunk or armadillo—though I’ve yet to hear of an armadillo attacking anything but grubs. A few risks remain to being a native earthling around here, most of them exceedingly rare or not life threatening. Walking at dusk, I’m cautious but not afraid of the dark, nor cars nor people. Even had a tarantula walk across the top of my sandaled foot. But rattlers, water moccasins, copperheads, coral snakes will change location as the heat eases on a summer evening. The possibility of stepping on a venomous snake is real. It’s unnerving.

The coral snake was so beautiful—its brilliance and energy, radiating color in the dim light. But again, unnerving.