Thursday, June 29, 2006
Snakes Alive!
The fetching Bo made a comment about rattlesnakes on yesterday's blog. Suffice it to say Bo loves animals - dogs, cats and other cuddlies - but she's no fan of critters that slither and swallow rats whole. Personally, I'd just as soon have a snake in my house as a cat. At least I know where I stand with a snake. A cat will pretend to be your friend just long enough to get what it wants, which is either food or a back rub. Then it will go into another room, claw your furniture, piss on your carpet, hock up a slimy hairball in the geographic center of your living room, then take a shit in a box, followed by scratching around for a couple of minutes in said box, and following that with a nice, leisurely cruise over all your tables and countertops with God-only-knows-what stuck to its paws. Just try to take the cat to task for these violations, and you better be prepared to have a bloody road map etched into the flesh of your face, arms, or whatever other exposed flesh it can reach.
Snakes just want to be left the hell alone.
The incident my lovely offspring referred to was a Memorial Day weekend trip to Apache Lake. She had a softball game or practice or somesuch on Saturday morning, so we were unable to get away until that afternoon. As you would expect, we arrived at Apache Lake to find every square foot of immediately available territory occupied. No problem. We loaded everything onto the ol' party barge and set a course for the nether regions of the lake, accessible only by boat. Those were pretty full as well, but we eventually found a nice shady spot, beached the boat, and started unloading. I was directing activities, as a Captain should, from the bow of my craft, when Zman came back from carrying some gear to the camp site and announced that he saw a rattlesnake where we intended to pitch our tent.
Yeah, right, whatever. You wouldn't know a rattlesnake if it bit you. Well, OK, maybe you'd recognize it if it actually bit you.
"No, I swear. I saw one."
ZMan, it's nearly June. It's hotter than hell. Rattlesnakes hide underground in this heat, and only come out at night.
"Well, nobody told this one."
So, I dutifully followed him to see this "phantom" snake. And sure as hell, there he was, all coiled up in the sand in a shady spot, almost nothing but his head sticking out.
OK, so we had a rogue snake in camp. One who used sun block, or perhaps was forcing some pack rats to bring him water in return for not eating them. I got an oar, dug him out, and killed him. Normally, I would just flip him back into the trees, but I didn't want to chance him returning when my kids were there. Problem solved.
Oh, but wait a minute. There's another one. OK, so there's two rattlesnakes dumb enough to brave the heat of day. I offed that one as well. Problem still solved. A few minutes later, while answering the call of nature in a mesquite grove, it occurred to me that it might be wise to keep my eyes open. Still in the act of watering the mesquites, I scanned the ground around me. There was another of the little bastards, not five feet away, giving me the evil eye. So I sent him to snake heaven as well.
We wandered over to the next campsite. The guys there said they had killed three, one while crawling across an air mattress. They beheaded them and tossed the heads into the lake. I've never been clear on why, but that ended any thought of wading barefoot in the immediate area.
There must have been some kind of sidewinder infestation in that part of the lake. The place was (literally) crawling with them. So, we spent the rest of the weekend sleeping on the boat and being extra-careful with each step. I grew up around rattlesnakes, scorpions, tarantulas, you name it. I don't fear them, but I certainly respect them.
The snakes pretty much cleared out of the area by Sunday, probably due to the high level of human activity. I haven't encountered snakes in that density since, and won't again, with any luck.
What can I say? It was their turf before it was ours.
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Snakes just want to be left the hell alone.
The incident my lovely offspring referred to was a Memorial Day weekend trip to Apache Lake. She had a softball game or practice or somesuch on Saturday morning, so we were unable to get away until that afternoon. As you would expect, we arrived at Apache Lake to find every square foot of immediately available territory occupied. No problem. We loaded everything onto the ol' party barge and set a course for the nether regions of the lake, accessible only by boat. Those were pretty full as well, but we eventually found a nice shady spot, beached the boat, and started unloading. I was directing activities, as a Captain should, from the bow of my craft, when Zman came back from carrying some gear to the camp site and announced that he saw a rattlesnake where we intended to pitch our tent.
Yeah, right, whatever. You wouldn't know a rattlesnake if it bit you. Well, OK, maybe you'd recognize it if it actually bit you.
"No, I swear. I saw one."
ZMan, it's nearly June. It's hotter than hell. Rattlesnakes hide underground in this heat, and only come out at night.
"Well, nobody told this one."
So, I dutifully followed him to see this "phantom" snake. And sure as hell, there he was, all coiled up in the sand in a shady spot, almost nothing but his head sticking out.
OK, so we had a rogue snake in camp. One who used sun block, or perhaps was forcing some pack rats to bring him water in return for not eating them. I got an oar, dug him out, and killed him. Normally, I would just flip him back into the trees, but I didn't want to chance him returning when my kids were there. Problem solved.
Oh, but wait a minute. There's another one. OK, so there's two rattlesnakes dumb enough to brave the heat of day. I offed that one as well. Problem still solved. A few minutes later, while answering the call of nature in a mesquite grove, it occurred to me that it might be wise to keep my eyes open. Still in the act of watering the mesquites, I scanned the ground around me. There was another of the little bastards, not five feet away, giving me the evil eye. So I sent him to snake heaven as well.
We wandered over to the next campsite. The guys there said they had killed three, one while crawling across an air mattress. They beheaded them and tossed the heads into the lake. I've never been clear on why, but that ended any thought of wading barefoot in the immediate area.
There must have been some kind of sidewinder infestation in that part of the lake. The place was (literally) crawling with them. So, we spent the rest of the weekend sleeping on the boat and being extra-careful with each step. I grew up around rattlesnakes, scorpions, tarantulas, you name it. I don't fear them, but I certainly respect them.
The snakes pretty much cleared out of the area by Sunday, probably due to the high level of human activity. I haven't encountered snakes in that density since, and won't again, with any luck.
What can I say? It was their turf before it was ours.
