Snake Funeral

"Mama!" my seven-year-old son said. "We found a dead diamond-back!" "Are you talking about a diamond-back rattle snake?" I asked. I was a little surprised, because I didn't think we had diamond-back rattle snakes in Cincinnati, Ohio. "Yeah!" I decided to investigate. I went out into the woods with my son, and he showed me the dead creature in the five-gallon bucket. It definitely was not a diamond-back rattle snake. "Dude," I said, looking at the disgusting thing that had flies zooming around it. "That's a garter snake." "Oh," he said. "But my friend said it was a diamond-back." "Your friend doesn't know what he's talking about. Now why don't you go ahead and bury this thing." I walked away. Then I heard a splash. "What was that?" I asked. "I buried it," my son said. "In the creek." Nice. (Of course my daughter scooped that thing out of the creek and gave it a proper burial, but no other snakes stopped by to hiss farewell. Such a pity!)