Today, while checking my gopher trap-line, I discovered a bull snake doubly caught in one of my traps. It (Note my politically-correct, gender-neutral subject.) must have had second thoughts about descending into the gopher hole, turned around before its tail cleared the gopher-sized hole in the guillotine trap, and sprang the guillotine when its head exited the hole. In short, it got caught about a foot behind its head and 18 inches from the end of its tail. I could see no sign of life, but . . . I don't do snakes at close quarters, dead or alive. I manned the camera while Jim approached the site cautiously. We both spotted a bull snake approaching from the west, six or eight inches from the hole entrance. Sounding relieved, Jim exclaimed, "You caught a slow learner. He escaped but now wants to return to that same hole."
Wrong.
My trapped snake, tail now flicking with obvious signs of life, was still caught, but a second bull snake was now intending to occupy the hole. What we had was a Montana style traffic jam. Jim pulled the trap out of the hole, opened the guillotine, and the formerly-incarcerated snake glided out, unfazed and undamaged, to join its comrade in subterranean comfort. May there be two gophers within--enough to provide a royal, reptilian repast for two.
I wanted to capture a closer-up photo, but I caught what I caught. It should be noted that Weed is looking on at about the same distance as I. She and I have similar aversions.