Not long after we moved in, I peaked under a suspicious looking scrap of red metal roofing covering the base of a wall by the front door. Prying it up, I could see that it was making do as the last small course of clapboard because, in fact, the previous one (and everything it hid behind it) had made a full state-of-matter transition back to the soil from whence it came. The structure that supported the house was far beyond rotted within the wall–all that was left was dust.
It was an eery tease of what else could be going on in the long-shadowed wall cavities along the base of the house. The perimeter had seen decades of encroaching grade, plant cover, and–I would soon learn–heavy duty snake traffic.
With no material to impede their way, black snakes had found an ideal habitat under the massive (cracked and caved-in) bluestone porch in front of the entry door. They could come and go as they pleased into the mouse-rich territory of the house’s walls and attic, growing long and happy during the years the house was left uninhabited.
It was a close competition for priority in my mind: should I be more worried about the house falling down because of the entirely missing sill material, or the black snakes that I would hear crinkling paper-faced fiberglass batts as they slithered along (and up) the walls of our bedroom?
After a fated run in and clumsy collecting of a teenage black snake specimen inside the house one summer month (a measly 3 footer), the clock was ticking. A few summers passed, the snakes kept coming and, at some point, I started secretly hoping for the house to just fall down to be rid of the quandary altogether (there are so many snake stories to tell, I’ll have to save them for their own blog post…).
Flash forward three years. After much waffling, approaching double-digits on our “snakes-caught” scoreboard, and some pennies saved in the piggy bank, it was time to call in the infantry…I had been referencing Andrew Dupont’s work at Silver Hammer Restoration for some time as I was working away on other parts of the house, but hadn’t reached out directly as I was yet still on the train of thought that I could myself do the work one day…this thinking, I now know, was laughable naiveté (thus the three year flash forward). Temporarily lifting the house to replace foundational structure was a project above my station and, very lucky for me, everyday work for Mr. Dupont.
I’m grateful to say that Andrew and I got on quickly and he was patient to let me in on his process to learn what I could of the nature of his work. He let me make some suggestions and even lend a hand here and there, but it should be said plainly just how fortunate I am for his skilled, efficient, and accurate craftsmanship. He made casual work of what I had been sweating tackling for years.
With the old snake den under the patio back-filled with crushed stone, I’m happy to report that we didn’t have another snake inside all of last year. Not that we don’t still see them around (we just took another one to the horse farm down the road last week…), but now we can wave politely at them as our neighbors, knowing there’s not such a permeable border between our nests anymore. And, hey, it’s also nice knowing that the house won’t fall down if the wind blew the wrong way.
At least not any time soon.
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