Curiously, when Marcy suddenly sounded like Curly in “We Want Our Mummy,” I thought back to a phone conversation we’d had last fall. I was on the Appalachian Trail, she was in our Cary backyard. I was in the wild, she was in suburbia. I was lounging at my campsite in the woods having tea, she was trying to figure out what to do with the four-foot copperhead sunning on our back deck. Subsequent Googling suggested that the sizable snake was likely a pregnant mama looking for a place to hunker down for the winter after giving birth — to as many as 14 slithering offspring. Marcy’s yelp this suggested that she had found said offspring.