It was only after we got the snake home that I began to ponder what he might want to eat that can be easily procured in Brooklyn, N.Y.
It didn't seem like such a bad idea when my son caught the critter by the shore of the little pond where we spend most of our summer vacations. We named it Chris–I can no longer remember why–and had a lot of fun watching it slither around and up the sides of a wicker basket, a snake-charmer's trick come to life.
Chris seemed to enjoy the tiny frogs we caught for his supper up in Maine, and even taking him home in the car wasn't so bad. In fact, I've had more problems transporting my children than transporting the snake. We found an old glass cookie jar, poked holes in the lid for air, and lined it with grass. I emphasized the importance of keeping the lid on the jar throughout the 400-mile trip home, and we had no slithery mishaps en route.
That's more than I can say for some of my other travels with assorted creatures. In particular I remember my own father erupting in a loud shower of curses and wild maneuvers with the steering wheel when my beloved cat, Tootsie, crept from the back seat of the car to the front, and suddenly appeared at Dad's feet between the brake and the gas pedal.
Then there was the first time we took Buddy, our big, goofy black-and-white dog, for a ride. We'd learned by then how to deal with carsick children, but it had never occurred to us that a dog might have the same problem. Fortunately, Buddy–like our kids–grew out of it, and now there's nothing she loves more than a ride in the car.
So compared to my previous experiences with mammals in moving vehicles, bringing the snake home in a jar didn't really pose much of a challenge.
The real worry with Chris came after we got home. That was when it dawned on me that those little frogs we'd been catching up in Maine for his dinner are not exactly commonplace in New York City. I consulted a couple of pet-store owners, who sold me crickets and meal worms, but neither of them tempted our snake. (One of the crickets escaped, however, and for a few days we lived with the illusion that our apartment was actually a campsite in the woods, because a cricket could be heard chirping in the vicinity of the bedroom closet.)
We happen to live on the first floor of our building, with access to a backyard the size of a postage stamp. We actually have earthworms there, so I caught a few of those for Chris and he seemed to like them. But as the weeks wore on, he lost interest. The weather was turning colder, and whatever preparations a snake makes for winter up in Maine could not be replicated in our apartment. Chris died, and we buried him in the garden where we'd dug up his worms.
On our next summer vacation, my son caught another snake. But this time, after admiring it for a few minutes and remembering Chris, he let it go.
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This week's advice: It's a bad idea to bring home wild creatures. Chances are you won't be able to keep them alive, and they could pose dangers to your family or to the environment if you're transporting them from a vacation spot to another region. If you're transporting pets by car, make sure they are restrained–in cages, pet carriers, harnesses or on leashes. A loose pet in the car could distract the driver, or could get away through a window or when you open the door. Bring water and a water dish; cover the seat with an old towel in case of carsickness; and never leave a pet unattended in a car. Parked cars heat up in minutes on warm days, and a pet can suffocate or suffer heat stroke.
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