What a Snake Thinks
Inspired by An excerpt from Mink River by Brian Doyle “What the River Thinks”
By Nico Fuhriman
The dirt above me startsssss warming as I lie beneath it. The morning sunrise always feelssss pleasant, but it’ssss when I know it’ssss time to hunt, as the hunger stirs within. Unburrowing from the red, ionized soil, I flick my tongue, tasting the air for any hint of food. The scentssss are faint, coming from unseen creatures moving slowly across the earth. Passing by the blue bunchgrass, I pick up tracesssss of fringe sage, feeling every shiver in the grass beneath my scales as I search. Then, a scent, life hidden below. I burrow my snout into the soil, attempting to stir something up. I lunge, my jawssss snapping shut, biting down with force. fangssssss sinking deeper as venom flowssssss, slowing my preyssss movements until it ceases altogether. Adjusting my mouth, I swallow, feeling the lump slide slowly down my body. The sun grows warmer against my scalesssss as I slither through the clumps of Indian ricegrass, needle and thread wheat grass, the mule deers trotting near me coming close to squashing me. Suddenly, I prick myself on something and instinctively shift into a defensive position, flattening my head, ready to strike. But the threat is nothing more than a prickly pear cactus, and I ease back. As I stray there are other snakes though made of dirt from something below, that the prairie dogs make to escape and hide from the black footed ferret. Finding a limestone rock, I coil up to bask in the warmth, letting the heat seep into my skin. Then, a screech pierces the air above, a cry of danger. I tense, slithering quickly, head flattened to appear larger, more dangeroussss. The screech comessss again, unmistakable. A red-tailed hawk circlesssss overhead, its shadow cutting across the ground. Body movessss faster now, every sense alert, ready to evade the predator that watchesssss from the sky. Hiding, waiting, listening for the danger of the sky to pass. The day is slowing. so am I. The warmth of the sun, once sharp and bright against my scalessss, begins to soften as shadows stretch across the ground. movement is slower now, more deliberate. The hunt is over. I’ve had my fill, and my musclessss, once taut with purpose, relax. I taste the air, faint, familiar scents drift lazily by, no longer carrying the urgency of danger or prey.. Instinct pullsssss me towards the soft, loamy ground. A patch of earth, cool and welcoming, beckons me to burrow down, to nestle into the dark where I will be safe and hidden. There is no fear in the coming night, only trust in the earth that holds me, that cradlesssss me as I slow my breathing, coiling gently into myself. I feel the cool dirt press against my body, closing me off from the vastness of the open world. Here, beneath the surface, I am no longer part of the day. the movements of the night’s a mystery. I am simply a part of the earth. wrapped in its quiet embrace. As the last light fadessss. surrendered to the comfort of stillness. knowing that with the dawn, soon to rise again to feel the sun, to move, to hunt, and to live. But for now, I let the darkness take me, content in the slow rhythm of rest.