Emily Dickinson is my perpetually-favorite, nineteenth century poet who, jokingly, once referred to herself as the “belle of Amherst,” odd only because she was a recluse. This morning, I recall one of her poems of the thousands she wrote, tucked away in a trunk, and written on scraps of paper. The extent of her work was only discovered after her death. We are indebted to those who saved her work, and are sad only in that she did not achieve the recognition she deserved, in her lifetime.
“A narrow Fellow in the Grass” – photo by James Cummings
As I look out on our wildflower garden, a safe haven for critters, birds, bugs, and reptiles, I recall poem number 986 in a print version of Emily’s poems.
A narrow Fellow in the Grass
Occasionally rides -
You may have met Him – did you not
His notice sudden is -
The Grass divides as with a Comb –
A potted shaft is seen –
And then it closes at your feet
And opens further on -
He likes a Boggy Acre
A Floor too cool for Corn -
Yet when a Boy, and barefoot -
I more than once at Noon
Have passed, I thought, a Whip lash
Unbraiding in the Sun
When stooping to secure it
It wrinkled and was gone -
Several of Nature’s People
I know, and they know me -
I feel for them a transport
Of cordiality -
But never met this Fellow
Attended, or alone
Without a tighter breathing
And Zero at the Bone -
c. 1865
The final line of the poem is terrific. It explains exactly how I feel when I see a snake! The first reaction many people have to snakes is to kill them. Out west, when I lived in the middle of the Mojave Desert, guys from the Air Base who had grown up in the South, would hunt rattlesnakes and eat them, and found them to be a great delicacy!
Around here, in New Hampshire, there are some rattlesnakes, copperheads, etc. You are most likely to run into them if you’re hiking in some remote place. The variety we find, in our yard, are simple black garden snakes who keep rodents and bugs under control and are beneficial creatures.
The most startling snake event I ever had was when I lived on the farm. My parents were holding a family reunion of sorts, with the relatives from Manchester, all grown-ups. Bored, I took a pail and snuck down back to the edge of the forest, crossing 40 acres of land to get to a spot where wild strawberries were spotted, when riding my horse down there. It was a glorious, early summer day! I was busily collecting berries, when I stepped on what I thought was an old Black tired. Turns out, it was a huge snake about 6 feet long! When it moved, under my foot, disturbed from its rest in the sun, I screeched so loud, everyone came running down to where I was. The adventures of the country!
Another time, there were a whole bunch of new born snakes, the size of worms, on the cement apron of the house. My mother, totally an “indoor girl” told me to kill them. I did not obey. I say, “Live and let live.” Sometimes, our perceived worst enemy does some good, after all!
Patricia Cummings
Quilter’s Muse Publications
