It's been nearly 2 months since I moved to London. I'm now a pro at taking the tube. I say trousers instead of pants. I drink tea (sometimes). But there's one rite of passage that I have not yet conquered.
I have not seen a fox.
I know what you're probably thinking: "Holland, really? Foxes in London? You aren't in the 100 Acre Wood, you're in one of the major global cities of the 21st century." I had the same thought the first time one of my new friends made a comment about seeing one of the little animals late one night. It didn't make sense that something so sly and mysterious could just be running amok in a European capital city. And yet, from what I've been told, the things are everywhere. In fact, everybody seems pretty surprised that I haven't seen one yet. They keep telling me to go out late at night and I'll see them all over the place, but on Saturday I didn't get home until after midnight and the only wildlife I saw was a mouse in the Warren Street tube station. Despite everyone telling me how gross they are, how they "slither" rather walk, how they can be dangerous, and how they're such annoying pests, I am determined to see one. I won't feel like a true Londoner until I do.
I have had my fair share of wild animal encounters in the States, though. People here are always surprised when I tell them about the sheer number of deer overtaking the country and how dangerous it is to drive late at night because of them. There are no bears in England, no big scary bugs, and hardly any snakes. Not like Georgia at all.
About two years ago, I was living in a split level house with 5 other girls. The house had a ground floor with a kitchen, living room, and bedrooms, and a basement with all the same things. However, the only way to access the basement was to go outside to the carport. The two levels weren't connected. I lived in the basement section.
One night, a few of my roommates were out of town and the rest were on a group date. I decided to have a movie night and called up a bunch of girls in our campus ministry. We all watched Flipped, ate snacks, and had a good time. Eventually the movie ended and people started making their way up the stairs to go home. All of a sudden, I heard panicked screaming coming from the top of the steps.
"SNAKE! SNAKE! THERE'S A SNAKE!"
Just like victims in a horror movie, all the girls still down in the basement immediately went running up the stairs to get a closer look at what was going on. Sitting right in front of the door, curled up on the welcome mat, was a copperhead. (For those unaware, copperheads are very common in Georgia. They are also very, very venomous.)
"Well don't let it in!" I yelled, slamming the door shut. About 15 girls were now packed at the top of the stairs peering down through the window at our unwelcome guest.
"Where did Mia go?" somebody asked.
"She was already walking out the door when I saw the snake," the girl who had raised the alarm said. "She jumped over it and started running, but I don't know where she went." We couldn't see her in the carport, nor in the driveway. Where did she go? Into the ground level of the house?
Right at that moment, a car pulled up to the front of the driveway and two of my roommates and their dates got out. We started frantically waving our arms at them, trying to warn them not to come any closer. They cheerfully waved back. Finally, I opened the door just a crack.
"There'sasnake!" I yelled before slamming the door shut again. One of the boys stopped and pointed, his mouth hanging open and his eyes going wide. The other guy ran back to his car and emerged a moment later with a hammer. He approached the snake slowly while all of us on the landing yelled and screamed at him to not be such an idiot. (Seriously, who goes after a venomous snake with a hammer?) After getting right up close to it and realizing how unlikely it was that he could strike it before it could strike him, he backed away. The first guy pulled out his cell phone and started talking to someone. The top of the stairs was starting to get hot with all of the girls crammed together like clowns in a car. After a minute, he put his phone away and shaped his fingers into guns and started signing at us.
What? I mouthed through the window. He kept waving his finger guns for a few seconds before just taking his phone back out and calling me.
"I just called Evan. He's going to bring a gun," he said, referring to another guy in our campus ministry who lived down the street.
Oh great, I thought. The last thing I need is my neighbors calling the police because of gunfire while my friend shoots at a skinny little target sitting 6 inches away from my front door.
Evan showed up a few minutes later, thankfully bearing a machete rather than a gun. His roommate came along as well, armed with a golf club. They approached the copperhead slowly. The guy with the golf club immediately decided that he was ill-equipped for the situation and backed up.
Evan inched his way towards the snake, the machete held high in one hand and a small trash can held before him like a shield in the other. Us girls stood at the top of the steps pressed together like sardines, our faces smushed up against the window. Evan took another creeping step forward, cocked back his arm, and swung.
The landing of the stairs turned into complete chaos. Girls screamed and jumped and shoved one another as Evan jerked his arm back, blood streaming in an arc from the machete. The snake lunged forward. Evan took another hacking swing, and then another, as the girls continued to scream. Finally, he backed away from the door.
"It's safe!" he called out.
We cautiously pushed the door open. There, spread across my welcome mat in a surprisingly large pool of blood, was the copperhead. Or rather, copperheadless. Evan had nearly cut all the way through. He gingerly picked up the snake by the tail and held it out. Myself and the other girls slowly emerged from the suffocating landing, lept over the dark red puddle, and walked out into the carport. Blood was everywhere.
"I'll uh...help you clean that up..." Evan said.
After a moment, everyone started laughing and joking as the adrenaline wore off. My two roommates joked that this was the most exciting end to a date that they'd ever had. We teased Jon and David for their attempts to attack the snake with a hammer and a golf club. Eventually somebody asked, "Where's Mia?" We all looked around the carport. She was nowhere to be seen. She wasn't in the house, and she wasn't standing out in the street either. Eventually we found out that after she had jumped over the snake and run to the end of the driveway, she had just kept running. All the way down our street, out of the neighborhood, and down the road, until one of our friends happened to be driving by and saw her, pulled over, and gave her a ride. She was literally running home.
I have not seen a fox.
I know what you're probably thinking: "Holland, really? Foxes in London? You aren't in the 100 Acre Wood, you're in one of the major global cities of the 21st century." I had the same thought the first time one of my new friends made a comment about seeing one of the little animals late one night. It didn't make sense that something so sly and mysterious could just be running amok in a European capital city. And yet, from what I've been told, the things are everywhere. In fact, everybody seems pretty surprised that I haven't seen one yet. They keep telling me to go out late at night and I'll see them all over the place, but on Saturday I didn't get home until after midnight and the only wildlife I saw was a mouse in the Warren Street tube station. Despite everyone telling me how gross they are, how they "slither" rather walk, how they can be dangerous, and how they're such annoying pests, I am determined to see one. I won't feel like a true Londoner until I do.
I have had my fair share of wild animal encounters in the States, though. People here are always surprised when I tell them about the sheer number of deer overtaking the country and how dangerous it is to drive late at night because of them. There are no bears in England, no big scary bugs, and hardly any snakes. Not like Georgia at all.
About two years ago, I was living in a split level house with 5 other girls. The house had a ground floor with a kitchen, living room, and bedrooms, and a basement with all the same things. However, the only way to access the basement was to go outside to the carport. The two levels weren't connected. I lived in the basement section.
One night, a few of my roommates were out of town and the rest were on a group date. I decided to have a movie night and called up a bunch of girls in our campus ministry. We all watched Flipped, ate snacks, and had a good time. Eventually the movie ended and people started making their way up the stairs to go home. All of a sudden, I heard panicked screaming coming from the top of the steps.
"SNAKE! SNAKE! THERE'S A SNAKE!"
Just like victims in a horror movie, all the girls still down in the basement immediately went running up the stairs to get a closer look at what was going on. Sitting right in front of the door, curled up on the welcome mat, was a copperhead. (For those unaware, copperheads are very common in Georgia. They are also very, very venomous.)
"Well don't let it in!" I yelled, slamming the door shut. About 15 girls were now packed at the top of the stairs peering down through the window at our unwelcome guest.
"Where did Mia go?" somebody asked.
"She was already walking out the door when I saw the snake," the girl who had raised the alarm said. "She jumped over it and started running, but I don't know where she went." We couldn't see her in the carport, nor in the driveway. Where did she go? Into the ground level of the house?
Right at that moment, a car pulled up to the front of the driveway and two of my roommates and their dates got out. We started frantically waving our arms at them, trying to warn them not to come any closer. They cheerfully waved back. Finally, I opened the door just a crack.
"There'sasnake!" I yelled before slamming the door shut again. One of the boys stopped and pointed, his mouth hanging open and his eyes going wide. The other guy ran back to his car and emerged a moment later with a hammer. He approached the snake slowly while all of us on the landing yelled and screamed at him to not be such an idiot. (Seriously, who goes after a venomous snake with a hammer?) After getting right up close to it and realizing how unlikely it was that he could strike it before it could strike him, he backed away. The first guy pulled out his cell phone and started talking to someone. The top of the stairs was starting to get hot with all of the girls crammed together like clowns in a car. After a minute, he put his phone away and shaped his fingers into guns and started signing at us.
What? I mouthed through the window. He kept waving his finger guns for a few seconds before just taking his phone back out and calling me.
"I just called Evan. He's going to bring a gun," he said, referring to another guy in our campus ministry who lived down the street.
Oh great, I thought. The last thing I need is my neighbors calling the police because of gunfire while my friend shoots at a skinny little target sitting 6 inches away from my front door.
Evan showed up a few minutes later, thankfully bearing a machete rather than a gun. His roommate came along as well, armed with a golf club. They approached the copperhead slowly. The guy with the golf club immediately decided that he was ill-equipped for the situation and backed up.
Evan inched his way towards the snake, the machete held high in one hand and a small trash can held before him like a shield in the other. Us girls stood at the top of the steps pressed together like sardines, our faces smushed up against the window. Evan took another creeping step forward, cocked back his arm, and swung.
The landing of the stairs turned into complete chaos. Girls screamed and jumped and shoved one another as Evan jerked his arm back, blood streaming in an arc from the machete. The snake lunged forward. Evan took another hacking swing, and then another, as the girls continued to scream. Finally, he backed away from the door.
"It's safe!" he called out.
We cautiously pushed the door open. There, spread across my welcome mat in a surprisingly large pool of blood, was the copperhead. Or rather, copperheadless. Evan had nearly cut all the way through. He gingerly picked up the snake by the tail and held it out. Myself and the other girls slowly emerged from the suffocating landing, lept over the dark red puddle, and walked out into the carport. Blood was everywhere.
"I'll uh...help you clean that up..." Evan said.
After a moment, everyone started laughing and joking as the adrenaline wore off. My two roommates joked that this was the most exciting end to a date that they'd ever had. We teased Jon and David for their attempts to attack the snake with a hammer and a golf club. Eventually somebody asked, "Where's Mia?" We all looked around the carport. She was nowhere to be seen. She wasn't in the house, and she wasn't standing out in the street either. Eventually we found out that after she had jumped over the snake and run to the end of the driveway, she had just kept running. All the way down our street, out of the neighborhood, and down the road, until one of our friends happened to be driving by and saw her, pulled over, and gave her a ride. She was literally running home.
So, while I do miss the abundance of nature that Georgia has to offer, I do not miss encounters such as these. Maybe it's alright that I haven't seen a fox yet. At least nobody has had to behead anything.
Oh, and when I went downstairs afterwards, Flipped had started playing again on its own. It was at this scene. Sometimes I think the universe hates me.
Oh, and when I went downstairs afterwards, Flipped had started playing again on its own. It was at this scene. Sometimes I think the universe hates me.