As I walked the property the other day I was rewarded with a glimpse of a small garter snake. Inspiration struck & I hurried off, startling a huge bumblebee from a blossom to collide with my face. It then drunkenly course-corrected & buzzed away. I consider that a twofer with wildlife.

I adore snakes, but when I was a child Muz drew the line. My mother allowed me to keep lizards, turtles, & fish for reptile companions, just nothing particularly sinuous. She was repulsed by them. I would bide my time. Surprisingly, I grew up, moved out, & was free to befriend whomever I chose.

My first opportunity to hang out with a snake came with a request from a friend of a friend. He was going out of town & needed a pet-sitter for his young boa constrictor. Apparently having a hard time finding someone who’d take on snakes, he landed on me. This small female constrictor was used to accompanying him on outings during warm weather. Since it was summer, I planned to take her with me on short trips around the city.

She was well-received wherever we went except for one place. I don’t usually frequent department stores, but the person I was with that day had to stop into The Bon Marche. This snake was only around 2 ft long, an inch in diameter at her widest, with unobtrusive brownish scales. She was wrapped around my hand & wrist, which was in a relaxed position by my leg. We got on the elevator. After some seconds passed, the other occupant of the lift plastered himself against the wall saying “Is that alive?” The door opened & he scrambled out as I called “Sorry!” to his back. I had not anticipated a phobic reaction.

Some few years later I had missed my bus going home from work & slipped into a pet store to kill time before the next one. Then I fell in love. In a tank was the most stunning verdant creature, specifically a Rough Green Snake– arboreal, diurnal, native to the Southeastern US. He looked like a string bean with eyes. Already there was a 20 gal. tank sitting empty at my apartment. I only needed a few supplies, a habitat for crickets, & the bag of bugs. I brought my new friend Bean home.

While the tank I had would provide an adequate temporary habitat, it wasn’t ideal in the long run. Being a tree snake, more height was essential for optimum contentment of this little guy. This was a job for an expert.

Luckily Poppie (my father) was inventive & highly adept at building stuff. He enjoyed drawing up plans & solving construction issues. He designed & built the first collapsible trailer our whole family camped in for years. Then he gave the specs to some guy he met at a campground. Within 18 months these exact trailers were on the market commercially. Apparently Poppie never considered a little thing called ‘patent’.

So while my father drafted plans & began construction (he’d found 4 salvaged windows to provide the glass!), I was getting better acquainted with Bean…who was an escape artist. He clearly wanted to go up as though there were a lush canopy above the screen & UV heat lamp. Though he was comfortable slithering over me, I was not a tree. The hair on my head was the closest he would get to foliage. Plus the research about this species said: “These snakes are shy & get stressed with too much handling.”

It was trial & error to keep him in his tank. One day upon returning from some errand I was frantic, unable to find him in the usual places he fled to. He was eventually discovered curled up in my apartment’s radiator. Thankfully it was on low.

Then there was the challenge of cleaning his habitat. Rather than being shut in a box for the duration, he was way more at ease tangled up in my hair basking in the warmth of my scalp. So that’s how his house-cleanings commenced…until something unprecedented happened. Though I love snakes for their elegance & grace, they also poop. The smell is not commensurate with their size.

At feedings I had my own tiny version of Wild Kingdom. I dusted his crickets with the vitamin supplement & tossed them in his tank for him to hunt down. Then I’d watch the show. A cricket managed to cling to a piece of pea gravel one day, right when Bean struck. Bug-with-rock went down his gullet. I cursed the pet store employee who’d said I needed the gravel as a layer beneath the large bark.

One conversation you never think you’re going to have with an exotics vet is: “My snake swallowed a rock. What do I do?” I once had a kitten who swallowed 3 ft of ribbon. How’d I know he swallowed it? The 2 inches of orange cloth sticking out of his butt. I had to take my kitty to the vet; there was sedation & lubricant involved, but he came through it. Bean naturally passed the rock, much to my relief (& his, I’m sure). I removed the pea gravel. The vet suggested hand feeding. I thought Bean would balk, but he took to it eagerly. I guess we all like room service.

Eventually the day came– his new home was here! I had done my due diligence, collected & cleaned corkscrew willow branches, draped them with hygienically-grown Spanish moss, & added snake-safe plants. His new home had over 5 times the space, mostly vertical. The entire front was a glass door, optimal for feedings & cleanings. I marveled at my father’s creation.

When I introduced Bean to his new digs, I could swear his little eyes grew wider. He climbed all over, exploring with seeming glee. Once he’d tired out, he piled himself high on the tallest branch nearest the heat lamp & fell asleep. Joy! He likes it!

Bean surpassed his estimated lifespan by a few years. He readily shared his space with a barking tree frog named Speck. They got along great, mutually ignoring each other as reptiles will do.

Although I have qualms regarding the pet industry (the fact it’s an industry deeply disturbs me), a life spent with only human companions pales in comparison. I may be excited to catch sight of a wild garter in the grass, but I miss my brilliant green friend. This send-off was long in coming: Happy trees to you, Bean!

P.S. For those unfamiliar with the Otis Redding song my title borrowed from, the whole line is “I’ve been loving you too long to stop now”.