My Son's Duck

By V.K. Bronz

My son, daughter and I were living on an eighty acre farm consisting mostly of woods and hills in the midst of Virginia.

Virginia is known for their Copperhead snakes (poisonous) and their not so lethal Black snake. Anyway, not so surprisingly, God was right when he said there would be enmity between the serpent and me.

The sun was shining on that humid morning as we were out doing chores. The chickens and the ducks were penned up along the end of our chicken coup, the goats were wandering among the honeysuckle vines, and the calf was in his stall; all was well with the world. As lunch time arrived we headed into the house to eat. Walking past the chicken coup, lo and behold under the chicken coup were the beady little eyes of a black snake, the rest of him hidden in the darkness.

I looked at the size of the snakes head and then at the three quarter grown chicks and ducklings and felt there wasn’t any real threat there. Fore the tiny size of the snakes head couldn’t possibly fit over the birds. Once in the house I became busy fixing lunch, when all of a sudden in my spirit I felt to go outside. I had long since forgotten about the snake, but just in obedience to the Holy Spirit I went out.

The small snake that I had perceived as no threat had come out from its dark hiding place and was about six feet long. With its fangs planted firmly in Evergreen’s shoulders, the snake had swallowed the head and the neck of my sons duck and was working on its shoulders. I ran screaming into the coup, “Where’s the ax? Where’s the ax”?  There I was, barefoot, standing in chicken and duck poop, crying out of rage running up to this horrifying sight. I was so angry he had dared to eat Evergreen, my 10-year-old son's duck.

Rage overcame any fear and loathing and I began to chop with the dull rusted ax my son had found. I chopped and chopped and chopped and chopped. That nasty monster would not let go. Finally I realized it must be dead, even though pieces of it continued to move, writhing and wiggling. I slowly reached down, fighting an urge to vomit, and opened the snake’s mouth with my bare hands pulling the long white fangs out of the limp ducks back. With the fangs out of the ducks shoulders the slime covered head and neck almost popped out of the throat of the snake.

We ran into the house and put poor Evergreen into the big farmhouse-style sink, rubbing and massaging him. Can you believe it? He was still alive. After all that time without air he still opened his little eyes, sparkling gratefully at us, but he was paralyzed. For two weeks Evergreen lived in our sink unable to move.

Gradually he began to heal, but not completely. From then on he had the tell–tale mark of the snake. He had the funniest gimp waddle. We built him a handicap ramp because he could no longer get up that one little step.

The length and depth of our sin may not be seen or understood by us, and in our pride we have convinced ourselves we are following the Lord, yet Satan’s fangs are firmly planted into us, and we refuse to rid ourselves of those seemingly small things, but God sees it.  We think it is unimportant because it appears to be so small, until the fullness is exposed and it comes to kill steal and destroy. As with Evergreen it leaves its terrible mark upon us, and we will go limping along thinking we have escaped, but God said he will have a bride without spot or wrinkle.