There is a bayou just a short walk from our house, a place I would have called a drainage ditch before I moved here.
A bayou (by-yo) is fun to walk to, because you can stand on the bridge and look down at turtles and snakes and small fish going about their business.
Plus the sound of a bike clattering over the wooden planks is always a nice old fashioned sound.
Right now the red clover is in bloom along the banks of the bayou, mixed in with the pink Evening Primrose. A slight breeze causes the whole scene to ripple like a body of water.
Of course that tells me nothing about where the snake might be, so I usually attempt to levitate about three feet above the soil, like a cartoon character, all the while looking around frantically.
In this case, the snake was a baby copperhead (poisonous critter, even if it is a baby) and it was in the curb area, with its body going straight up against the curb. From where I was, I could just see his little head peeking over the edge of the concrete.
Bernie decided it needed to be "saved" from possibly being flattened by passing cars.
He likes snakes.
I root for the cars.
He grabbed a small stick and urged Baby Copperhead along into the grass and into the bushes. The snake was about a foot long and as big around as a typical hot dog.
Ugh. One baby snake=several baby snakes in my book, plus a mommy and daddy snake.
I think I'm going to go back to riding my bike now that the weather has warmed up a bit.