“Sir!”

I didn’t hear her because I had my music playing out of my phone as I was walking. Plus, I’m deaf as a post, too, so there’s that.

“Sir!” she said again, walking briskly towards me.

She was a girl, out for a jog on the sand track. Her brown hair was in a ponytail, and she wore a black tanktop, pink running shorts, and running shoes.

“There’s a snake over here, and I wanted to make sure you saw.”

“Oh,” I said. “Thank you.”

I had been walking under the oaks and letting my memories of the live oaks from childhood take me where they would. I don’t know why but I’ve a fascincation with live oaks.

I love just about everything I’ve learned of them, how and why they develop the ways they do, why their wood is so valuable, why they take so long to mature, how they reproduce, how and why the acorns are shaped differently from other varieties of oaks, etc.

“Is he poisonous?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. But I’m sure someone will know.”

I snapped a picture with my old i-Phone, and the serpent slid away from me, wanting to be left alone.

The three of us parted. The girl resumed her jog. I resumed my walk. The serpent made off into the grass.