I knew copperhead snakes lived in this area long before we moved here, but my concerns then were as far away as the copperheads. Then I moved deep into the copperhead’s territory, and basic yard activities have never been the same since.

My first ever copperhead encounter was early the first summer after moving to this house in 2003.

I was weed whacking a remote corner of the yard where very tall native grass had grown, as a result of a wrongly installed sprinkler head. I was zipping through the tall grass and a swipe revealed a large adult copperhead coiled in a cowering posture. It startled me but I knew immediately I had the advantage. I quickly dispatched it with a barrage of swirling orange nylon string. Since then, I’ve removed at least one copperhead from the yard every year.

Copperhead snakes are similar to rattle snakes but without the rattle. They have the classic viper-shaped head, and the juvenile tails looks like it was dipped in yellow highlighter ink. In this area a big one is around 24 inches.

The copperheads in my yard have a two-tone pattern along their back. I have seen them colored from tan and brown to brown and dark brown to the rarer light and dark grey, They are venomous and the have bitten a few of my dogs, and my wife. Because of this they are the rare creature I actively remove from my yard, with prejudice.

I gladly leave any non-venomous snake alone. In general, I am reluctant to eradicate most things from my yard. I avoid chemicals and value biodiversity. I imagine the benign snakes are best left alone to compete with copperheads for territory. I worry that removing a benign snake from the yard will allow more copperheads to move in. This is my unscientific hunch.

A few years back we kept our daughter’s dog, Olive, while my daughter lived in a no-pit bull apartment.
Olive is only half pit but the apartment was not interested in all her other incredible qualities or true
nature. Keeping Olive worked out nicely with copperhead control in the yard.

Olive has a special ability. She can sniff out copperheads. When she does, she sounds her alarm, a booming, angry bark. Her bark is so intense it drives the copperhead into a defensive coil. I now recognize her copperhead bark. AS an example it’s different than her playful Amazon truck on the road bark.

When hearing Olive’s copperhead bark, I quickly put on some footwear and grab one of the snake dispatching devices kept at the front and back door. One summer Olive alerted on 11 copperheads. I Don’t know if it was a copperhead bloom, or how Olive found so many that year. Before and since has Olive lived here finding two copperheads a year was exceptional.

Twice I saw the copperhead she had cornered strike at her, and both times, mongoose like, she dodged their attack. I went from panic to proud in a fraction of a second.

After Olive moved back with my daughter we got a pair of darling goldendoodle pups, brother and sister.
Olive would visit from time time time. During one of her visits, I heard Olive’s copperhead bark, but there was also another, new, bark.

Eli, the female pup was also alerting on the snake. Olive taught Eli this skill. It’s funny how dogs can share knowledge like that.

Since then, Eli has altered to a few copperheads in the yard. Her bark is not as booming as Olive’s, but it
does have that specific tinge of anger. Just recently she called me out to find a pair apparently copulating just off our back patio, pictured above.

I am not scared of copperheads, but I am weary of them. When working in the yard I reserve a band width of attention to subconsciously scan for their scale pattern or movement. This had been successful on more than a few occasions. Sometimes I startle them when disturbing a drift of leaves or old wood pile. I am sure many, many have slithered off unnoticed.

The most alarming copperhead encounter I had was with a small one that bit Leslie. She was pulling weeds in a flower bed when it bit her finger. When she realized what caused the stick of pain, there was a little bit of panic.

Back then I did not keep a dispatching device at the back door, so I ran into the house and grabbed our biggest butcher knife. I knew it had to die for biting Leslie.

I got a good look at it, but unfortunately, I did not
get a chance to deal with it. Leslie was eager to get to the hospital, so we focused on that instead.

One note here, if you are ever bitten by anything venomous and need to get to the hospital, call Poison
Control, 800-222-1222, and they will call ahead to the emergency room and let them know you are coming.

I dropped Leslie off at the emergency room door where they were waiting for her. By the time I parked the car, Leslie was already being treated.

After a few days of treatment of new synthetic anti-venom, she was able to go home. That’s when I started keeping an old floor scraper at the back door, and an old sharpened hoe just outside the front door.

I imagined finding the copperhead that bit Leslie. I planned on skinning it and presenting Leslie with a snake skin hair clip. I’ve watched enough YouTube videos that I am confident I can do this. That one got away, and I could never be sure later copperheads encountered might be the offending serpent.

The biggest copperhead I’ve encountered was in my garage. I was finally clearing out the drifts of leaves blown in after a windy stretch. I turned the blower to a leaf pile about two feet in circumference and uncovered this enormous copperhead, frozen from being suddenly exposed.
In that instance all I had on hand was my small rechargeable blower. There were many excellent snake
dispatching tools on the other side of the garage, but I’ve learned that you can’t turn your back on a copperhead. If you do they quickly disappear.

Seeing a copperhead and then letting it get away is one of the purest elements of horror. Knowing a copperhead
escaped into the yard has a haunting effect that lasts for weeks. Under every shrub or leaf pile is certainly hiding a vengeful viper ready to pounce.

Just within my reach was a small child’s baseball bat. I don’t know who’s bat it was, or why it was in my garage, but it was. I took aim and my first swing, drunk with too much adrenaline, landed off target. I missed its head. Fortunately, the snake flinched from my swing and I hit it mid-body hard enough to prevent it from going into its striking coil.

My first hit also wounded it enough to prevent it from fleeing. Just imagine a copperhead lurking under anything and everything in a garage> This is high octane nightmare fuel. After a few more excited whacks I put the massive copperhead down. This one bled a lot more than others. The stain is still there.

My copperhead strategy, developed over the years, is to confront them with a blade type weapon. I first
try to cut them in half, preventing their escape. Then I focus on the head. I don’t separate the head, but
crush it. Maybe it’s an old wives’ tale that a dead venomous snake can still “bite” someone, but that
makes sense to me. I would hate to have one of my dogs come sniffing around and get a phantom snake bite because I was careless.

After a copperhead is dealt with I will sometimes share my conquest with anyone around, sending a text pic or two. I then dump it into the trash. Once I uncovered a copperhead while burning yard trash. That one went, ceremoniously, into the fire pit.

Another memorable time, Olive and I came across a small copperhead in the middle of the road while on a walk. All I had with me was Olive’s booming snake bark, and her leash. I considered running back to my
house for an appropriate weapon, but I knew it would quickly disappear into the grassy culvert. In a
silent frenzy of improvisation, I realized I also had my shoes.

While Olive barked, the greyish copperhead into its defensive coil, I leaned one hand over the snake’s
front, wiggling my fingers. I drew its attention in that direction. I then stomped on it from behind with as much speed and force as I could muster. Being a juvenile copperhead, I was able to flatten it entirely under foot.

A copperhead will twist and twitch after being killed, like so many decapitated things. It’s very creepy.
The one I just stepped on was no different. Olive sensed it was no longer in a position to strike and moved close to get a good dog sniff. I pulled her away scared of its phantom bite. She’s a good dog and left it there in the road.

You may think I am some type of snake wrangler from my various encounters and matter-of-fact stories,
but that is hardly the case. From my copperhead encounters I have learned some things about their behavior. I’ve learned the difference between a copperhead’s cowering coil and its striking coil. I’ve seen by example that a copperhead strike zone is about half of its total length. I’ve used what I have learned to develop these weary strategies. I stay outside their striking range, and I always seek a massive mechanical advantage when I take a copperhead on.

I have an old pair of combat boots I will wear if I think my yard work will bring me in contact with a copperhead.
At night I tromp around with an even heavier step. The theory is that a copperhead hunting in the grass will feel my lumbering vibrations, and leave the area. This seems to work.

I have only come across one in my path at night in all the years. It was on the driveway laying in its customary slithering “S” position. This one happened to be in the tire rut of fallen leaves. In the fading twilight its placement led me to think it had been run over. I thought my younger daughter, Nikki, would like to see it, so I went in the house to get her. When we returned it was darker so I brought out a flashlight. When we walked up to that spot in the driveway, that little bugger was gone. What did I say about taking your eyes off a copperhead?

There was some movement just off the driveway in some leaves, and there it was. I am quite glad I did not poke at it when I thought it was crushed.

I had Nikki hold the light on it while I got an old plastic pretzel container, and just like how I would catch centipedes back home, I positioned the container in the snake’s path, then prodded it forward with a stick. It slithered right into the container.

My plan was to immortalize it in acrylic. I added too much hardener, causing the mix to get too hot. It
turned into a big messy fail. I caught another one later in the pretzel container, but I forgot about it. When I finally found it on a top shelve in the garage, it had transformed into an ancient medicine of the orient.

If I am moving around yard debris, I will keep a shovel close. From experience, I know where I am more likely to encounter a copperhead hiding, but about half of them I have encounter in the open. I try to stay prepared.

I heard somewhere that cold-blooded reptiles are not viable until it is 56 degrees of more. The internet
says 70 degrees is the temperature a snake needs to move, but that seems a little high to me. I know copperheads are scarce when everything is saturated from heavy rain.

If it has been dry and hot for a while you will see more on the road, especially in the evening. I assume this is because it’s cooled off enough for them to come out of cover to hunt.

Living in copperhead territory might seem worrisome, but keeping up a low level of alertness and having a good dog on patrol balances things out.

I understand I am admitting to some harsh behavior towards copperheads, a living thing. I tolerate most pests, and as I have said I value non-venomous snakes in my yard. But copperheads can be deadly. They have bitten my wife and my dogs, so I feel compelled to eliminate them whenever I encounter them.

Sorry, universe, for my philosophical inconsistencies.