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The gopher that was digging a new tunnel under the persimmon tree has been neutralized. Mr. MacGregor, the wicked farmer who made a widow of Peter Rabbit’s mother, would have been proud. A few gentle taps stunned the unsuspecting perpetrator. Justice, and lunch, were served.

Mr. Snakey runs his nose over his lunch to appreciate the aromas of a fresh-caught, free-range meal. Sometimes he eats pet shop mice, but we suspect they’re the culinary equivalent of McDonald’s.














Our rosy boa is pretty docile, and continued to eat while I took pictures.

Bryon says that rosy boas are relatively slow snakes and prefer to corner their prey in a hole. (No wonder gophers are considered a delicacy.) Rattlesnakes, by contrast, are usually surface hunters (and much more dangerous, although for different reasons).

As he swallows, the muscles contract to move the meal through the digestive tract. Watching the scales move is strangely mesmerizing. Morbidly so perhaps, but this omnivore makes no apologies.














It took Mr. Snakey about half an hour to finish his meal.

He’s napping now, and probably won’t need to eat for a week or two.