I have talked before about imbecilic conversations I used to have with ex-colleague Morgan Lyle about fair fights in the animal kingdom.

Bear vs. shark — crow vs. tomcat — wasp vs. yellowjacket — squirrel vs. tarantula — duck vs. goose. Or duck and duck vs. goose, for a special kiddy show matinee.

The words were as stupid as the faux fights discussed, in mind-numbing depth. I think the bear-shark confrontation took the better part of an afternoon, when editors were far out of listening range. The bear would have to be in knee-deep water to give the shark some sort of equal footing, as a shark on shore would have mobility problems and quickly become a sushi bar for quick claws. We thought about outfitting the bear in a deep sea diving suit, complete with helmet and oxygen tanks. It was all part of the idiotic, time-wasting fun.

Idiotic fun must have been what the folks in Walnut Cove, N.C. were thinking in September 1948. Moby Dick, the angriest mule in Stokes County, was ready to stomp and squash a 20-foot boa constrictor in a winner-take-all death match.

Carnival owner Bill Page had the confident coiler in his corner. Blacksmith W.T. Shafer managed the ornery kicker.

The law was also part of the pre-fight conversation, according to United Press International. North Carolina did not like the idea of fair or unfair fights between creatures with four legs and no legs. But bunches of farmers had bet on the battle, and Mr. Page might have been wishing he could slither out of the whole thing.

A carnival barker had started the mess, boasting the serpent could swallow animals. To demonstrate, chickens and a small pig were sacrificed to the muscular snake. Ugh — some carnival.

Good old boys in the audience wanted to see what the snake was really made of. The farmers proposed Mr. Boa pick on someone his own size — bigger, actually — and try to digest Moby Dick. The mule reportedly had no manners, and would not tolerate snakes gladly.
This fair fight picked up steam, unlike confrontations promoted by the Wilkin-Lyle faction. Pretty soon, the fight was on and farmers had bet $5,000 on the hometown hero.

Page talked for his snake and talked a good game, at first. He said the boa would quickly wrap up Moby’s legs, and “break the mule’s back in no time.”

Shafer disagreed.

“That mule will kick hell out of the snake before they even get started,” he said.

Other Walnut Grove residents and church pastors wanted no part of the hostilities, and called for friendship between the promoters and animals.

Governor Gregg Cherry did not want to see a crippled mule or a flattened snake ... but it sounded like he had already picked his winner.

“I can’t see any sport in that,” Cherry said. “I have never heard of such a thing. What chance would a mule have against a snake?”

Page might have decided to board the peace train. At one point, the snake just vanished. The carny man said a good boa constrictor cost at least $1,000. He didn’t want to risk a career-ending injury.

And that was it. No other stories on the epic were filed; sounds like farmers were not that happy the snake was leaving town.

Chickens and small pigs probably cackled and oinked with joy.