As an avid gardener, I’ve become accustomed to seeing the occasional wildlife in my garden. I’d come face to face with little rabbits who just want to munch on my radishes, or raccoons who like to make homes among my hydrangeas. I always like to do the best that I can when it comes to protecting my gardens. I had wire fencing installed around my vegetable garden to keep animals from using it as a salad bar, and I planted marigolds around the perimeters of my planting boxes because I’d heard that animals didn’t like the smell of them. And when the situation called for it, I would occasionally call for back up from a wildlife control worker, trapper, or pest control specialist. On one particular day, I was elbow deep in my dahlia’s, pruning and such, when I heard a faint hissing sound. I let out an exasperated sigh if I had broken another hose that meant that my flowers had been getting overwatered. I shoved my arm into the back of my dahlias and began to feel around for the broken hose. My hand brushed against something vaguely rubbery and cylindrical. I grasped onto it and gave it a yank, YOUCH!! I immediately recoiled and fell back onto my bum and ripped off my gloves. On the back of my hand were two bleeding pinpricks. I ripped off my other glove and pulled back the foliage and shoved my face right in, determined to find what had stabbed the back of my hand. Almost instantly, I took off running in the opposite direction. I had just shoved my face into a nest of sleeping (and now agitated) garden snakes. I ran all the way into my house where I grabbed my phone and immediately called the first wildlife company I could think of and demanded they drive down to my house immediately. Sure, I can handle the occasional cuddly little bunny rabbit. But a nest full of garden snakes? You’re out of your mind!