N.Y. buddy gets garden-variety scare

I blame myself.

I could have done a better job preparing him.

I feel I had an obligation to help my friend from the East Coast navigate a difficult transition.

So when Frank moved here, I should have given him some pointers.

New Yorkers think relocating here requires little adjustment since they survived those harsh winters.

“How difficult could it be to move to paradise?” they ask.

They’re referring to the climate, and that’s the easy part.

But there are other considerations. Like the wildlife.

That’s never been a concern to my buddies from the Big Apple since wildlife doesn’t exist there. Unless you’re counting rats.

But here, wildlife is abundant. Sometimes disturbing.

That’s why it’s important to enlighten new arrivals.

Take coyotes. I try to advise newcomers that coyotes are not someone’s stray pet.

“A coyote is not a German shepherd,” I emphasize. “If you come across one, do not take it home. Do not post its photo around the neighborhood. It’s not a lost dog.”

It’s not my intention to unnecessarily alarm anyone, as it’s rare that a coyote presents a threat to people, although it’s wise to keep your distance and guard your pets. The same goes for snakes.

It’s important to distinguish between the ones that are dangerous, and those that are actually beneficial.

It’s a discussion I wish I had with Frank when he moved here.

He’s a rugged, 6-foot-3, 200-pound former New York City firefighter with no fears or phobias.

Other than snakes.

When Frank retired, he and his bride moved into a lovely home in North County. Days later, when he stepped out to his garden, he came upon a terrifying sight: A snake lying upon a rock.

My mistake was failure to sit Frank down to explain the difference between snakes that are venomous versus the harmless kind.

But as far as Frank was concerned, there are three varieties: the ones that paralyze, the ones that strangle, and the ones that swallow you whole.

So he instructed his wife to remain in the house while he secured a large piece of lumber and a sledgehammer, armaments he secured to contest the beast.

But first he donned his firefighter gear: Steel-toed boots, a full-length insulated firefighter’s coat, a steel helmet, Kevlar gloves, a face guard, and body armor.

That’s when Frank’s neighbor appeared.

Drawn by the sight of a firefighter in full battle gear, she feared impending disaster.

“Is there a problem?” she anxiously inquired.

“Snake!” Frank yelled, pointing to the viper.

“It’s just a little garter snake,” the young neighbor informed. “They’re harmless. They eat the pests in your garden.”

“I don’t like it!” Frank shrieked.

So the intrepid young lady, a slight figure in bare feet, weighing less than Frank’s protective gear, calmly picked up the snake with a rake and gently set it down in her garden.

Frank thanked her, returned to his house, locked the doors and windows, and remained there until it was time to retire. He crawled into bed where his wife suggested it was probably OK to remove his fire gear.