Ahhhhh!!

Typical Monday: The children and I head down to Laurel to do the weekly grocery shopping.  We stop by a friend's house and stay too long visiting and having a grand time.  I drag the children out and we zip over to Wal-mart.  An hour and a half later, the frazzled family heads home to unload groceries and eat a sandwich.  Of course I fix their lunch after the groceries are in, and then I head on out to check on my chickens and collect the eggs.  It is 104 degrees of miserable outside and I am focusing on getting back to the cool air-conditioned air in the house.  I always talk to my chicken ladies, but this day they are not really talking back to me. Huh. So I stroll over to the lid of the laying box and get down and stick my head (as usual) under the lid to see if we have any eggs today, but we don't because the enormous snake coiled in the nesting box where my face is ate them all.
This is where Monday went horribly wrong.
I am a little unclear about the order in which the following events occurred, because I lost my head for approx. 45 minutes.  My son says I was freaking out and kept shrieking even when I was in the house on the phone with an assortment of people.  My father-in-law told me to take the dog out there, and she would take care of the snake.  So after putting on my knee-high rubber boots (I don't know why this was so important for me, but I had on little strappy sandals before) I get the dog on the leash and take her up to the coop.  The chickens are watching all of this in silence.  So I open up the coop which previously has been so desireable  and forbidden to the dog.  She sniffs the door once, then turns her head and looks at me.  I immediately realize that Rosy is a lot smarter than I have ever given her credit for.  She won't go in,  and I can't blame her.
Insert Hero:  My husband rushes home after my blubbering call and grabs a shovel.  He races to the coop, throws open the door, and looks in.  And takes a step back.  This is a big snake, and it looks very comfortable.  And Big.  "Go get the gun." So off I go to get the gun.   Hero blasts the snake to bits (I have to clean the bits out later) and then shovels most of the remains which are still twitching into the woods.
I have learned several things about myself from this experience.  I am not cut out to be a farm wife.  I am a big baby when when it comes to predators and my chickens.  Most distressing of all, I have serious doubts now about dispatching my chickens now when they are no longer productive as was the plan.   I am much more alert when I open the henhouse door, and also my husband is a hero.