For those with military experience in any conflict the worst command you can receive is, “Fix Bayonets!” That normally indicates an immediate close hand-to-hand, life-or-death combat situation which is guaranteed to be much worse than passing a kidney stone.

I normally hear that command about once a year at my house and it happened just the other day.

My wife and I live on a couple of acres of wooded land in a rural setting with close neighbors. But, as with many people living in similar situations, most of the surrounding land is connected with small wooded lots and fields, all of which are home and travel paths for the wildlife with which we all share the area.

We have birds, squirrels and rabbits that are on a first name basis. We see deer and turkey regularly and an occasional fox or bear has wandered through, as well.

As a matter of fact, we once had a bear on our patio, standing up full height looking through the sliding glass doors while we were inside. I told my wife he was checking to see if the Outdoor Channel was on TV and she thought that was funny. However, the creature that set off the recent dreaded alarm was a snake.

I was trimming shrubs in the front of the house the other day when I heard my name being called loudly from around back. From past experience, I had a feeling I knew what it was. Soon, my wife appeared with a shovel raised overhead declaring, “There is a snake in my flowers and I want you to kill it!”

Now there is a funny side to this story — although not according to my wife — because this is the same woman who is experienced at handling guns of all kinds, a successful gun and bow hunter, state muzzleloading champion, national archery champion and has thrown knives and tomahawks in competition.

If our home is broken into, my plan is to follow closely behind her carrying extra ammunition and body bags for the intruders. She is fearless in most situations and even once had a serious personal disagreement with a bear that attempted to climb up the tree from which she was bow hunting.

I might add that neither she nor the bear were harmed in any way, except possibly the bear’s personal feelings as he backed down the tree.

But when it comes to snakes, she draws the line. I don’t think she is afraid of snakes, she just does not like them. (Thank goodness she still likes me — I think.)

I stepped carefully through the flowers searching for the elusive intruder, all the while hoping I would not find it. My wife was following close behind, shovel raised. I was not sure if she was protecting me or planning to hit me if I stepped on one of her flowers. She is very protective of her flowers.

In any event, no snake was to be found, thank goodness. I am sure it is somewhere warning other snakes to stay away from the “Crazy woman with the shovel.” Since we have lived at this location, any snake I ever saw was a simple and harmless garter snake. However, my every attempt to convince my wife of that fact is always met with, “I don’t like snakes!”

In any event, things are back to normal and I think it is safe to put my bayonet back in its sheath until the next time.

John Kasun writes from his home in Duncansville, where life is always interesting, thank goodness, because that gives him something to write about.