Harry's Hattery for Herpetofauna: Part I

Once upon a time, in a world within a world, off the concrete path, through the weeds, and under a fallen oak tree, Harry the Snake sold bespoke jackets to his fellow herps.

Harry’s Haberdashery for Herpetofauna.

As we all know, snakes do not have arms, so how do they don the jackets? How do they stay on? They're made to fit snuggly on the long, slender bodies. To put them on, the snakes wriggle, writhe, and slither into them.

Alas, the jackets began to itch, and it wasn't easy to shed their skin as they grew. Growing also meant the jackets had to be tailored regularly so they would continue to fit.

Slithering was also challenging, as the fabric often snagged weeds, branches, and pointy rocks. Keeping them clean was a nightmare. Still, the snakes wanted to look sharp, to express themselves through smart attire, and to have the ability to remain above ground later in the year.

Eventually, business began to slow down due to these challenges.

Soon, Harry admitted his folly in basing a business around outerwear for snakes. Keen to avoid repeating the mistake, he decided to divert into the bespoke snake hattery business.

Harry’s Hattery for Herpetofauna as born. For many years, the business grew steadily, and Harry developed a reputation for creating magnificent hattery.

“Harry, you don’t have arms, hands, or fingers. How are you producing these hats?” asked the California King, his black bars so shiny and regal against the creamy white background. Or was it creamy white against black?

“Yes, indeed,” Harry replied, chuckling. “Many years of practice, to be sure.

"Can I interest you in a beaver pelt top hat? A hand-stitched cotton ball cap, complete with the hand-stitched logo of your favorite sports or forensic club? Or maybe a wool Tam O'Shanter is more in keeping with your style,” Harry mused.

“You didn’t answer my question, Harry,” replied King Snake.

“Haha, of course,” Harry rejoined, “I know! A cowboy hat is just the hat for our Mr. King!”

“Well...yes, I think so too now that you mention it. However...,”

“I will begin immediately. And do not concern yourself; I have crafted many fine cowboy hats throughout my hat-making days. Ah, yes!” Harry proclaimed.

“Uh...yes, very well then. I shall return in, shall we say, seven days from this day?” asked King Snake.

“You may return tomorrow if you wish,” Harry replied as he examined Mr. King’s head from various angles.

“The hat will be ready that soon?” asked King.

“Oh no, replied Harry, “it will be complete when I am done making it, but you may return anytime you like.” Harry smiled.

King Snake stared wide-eyed at Harry for a moment, "Ok then, I'll be in touch." Harry was already preoccupied with the design of King's hat, and Mr. King departed, shaking his head.

Tongues flicked, and ribs undulated, and snakes came and went from the hattery, balancing head covers of assorted sizes, shapes, colors, and materials.

One day, a new customer entered the establishment.

Harry greets her at the counter. “Hello!” bellows Harry, with a wide grin and a flicking tongue.

Badger regards Harry and replies guardedly, "Greetings to you as well." she replied.

"Please pardon my bluntness, but if you could refrain from excavating the front door, it would be greatly appreciated," says Harry.

Badger’s eyebrows come together, and she frowns slightly, tilting her head.

Harry looks down at Badger’s dirty claws and then up over her shoulder to the door behind her.

Badger follows Harry's gaze to the door. She looks down at her claws and moves them slowly behind her back. “Oh dear, I am sorry about that. Habit, you know. And the door was just a little too, er, tight?"

Rosie has been eavesdropping on their conversation and leaves her stitching to slither up to Harry.

“Why are you serving a badger, Harry?” whispers Rosie. “You know they are known to eat snakes.”

“Those are the whispers. Strangely, I’ve never seen it happen – or know anyone who has. Additionally, they are also known to wear hats, apparently," replies Harry, “and..."

“Well," Rosie interrupts, “My mother's second cousin has a friend who was attacked — for no reason at all — by a badger. I think it would be wise to hire Water Moccasin to stand guard in the shop whenever Badger is here,” says Rosie.

“It is Ms. Badger when she is in our shop, Rosie,” says Harry, “and rumors are like flash floods: they destroy burrows and dens, and everyone gets carried away by them.”

“She’s not one of us." Rosie rebukes.

“And what are we?” asks Harry.

"We're snakes," Rosie says loudly.

"Ah, and perhaps we're something more? Maybe we are fellow hat lovers. Admirers of artisanship, refined skills, and disciplined practice. Beauty in all of its forms.

Let's think about that and provide her the best customer service we can." Harry smiled broadly at Rosie.

She rolled her eyes and resumed her tasks.

Harry turned back to Ms. Badger.

"Let's start over at the beginning, shall we? Welcome to my shop, Ms. Badger. How can I assist you?”

Ms. Badger clears her throat, "Thank you. Will, I'd like you to make me a hat, of course."

"I see, of course." says Harry. "Now, just something to consider before we get too far into it: a badger's head can be significantly wider than the typical snake."

Ms. Badger stared, her face slack, one quite pointy canine tooth protruding from her apparently dry upper lip, giving the impression of a half-hearted snarl. Harry stared at it, feeling the urge to tuck it back up under the badger’s lips.

“I see. Well, admiring your hats on display here, there does seem to be a variety of sizes. Is that the issue, per se, or perhaps you have an issue with badgers?" asked Ms. Badger.

Harry considered her remark, "As a point of fact, I've never met a badger before," be pauses for a second, smiling, "however, you seem pleasant enough."

Badger returns the smile, "What do you say to giving it a go then? I'm certain you are more than capable of making an excellent hat, and that we can work together just fine.”

"Wonderful! What type of hat did you envision?" Harry replies animatedly.

Ms. Badger looks up toward the ceiling with a gentle smile, lost in thought. "I'm thinking of a wide brim all the way 'round, pastel in color - maybe robin's egg blue - with some burnt orange and saffron sunflowers stitched in. I want to look lovely for the annual spring tea party."

"Splendid idea! That sounds absolutely beautiful, Ms. Badger. I shall begin drawing up your hat immediately. You and your hat will dazzle everyone at the party, I'm sure of it!"