rattlesnake diaries; part deux

Ok, so here is what I did. I started a really long blog and have avoided finishing because of the length. I have wanted to blog since, but I had that feeling that you get when you don’t have your homework done before class. You can't just go to class without your homework. So I just ignored it. But it is time to do the dang thing:

yes, I killed rattlesnakes. For one, it made me feel like I was in a john Wayne movie. And two, it just made sense. Since posting the first part of the story, a few people have said to me "how could you kill a snake? They are beautiful creatures. I have pet snakes and I let them wrap their python like scales around my neck and squeeze. It’s like a cold-blooded hug". I say to that: you have serious issues and I am praying for your salvation.


So, in late June I started working on Sweetwater creek, in the southwest corner of Natrona County. It ran beside the rattlesnake mountain range, and was really beautiful. For you Oregon Trail fans, independence rock was in sight as the "crick" ran beside it. This was a private ranch, and was one of the largest and oldest ranches in Wyoming. Recently, the Mormon Church bought the property because this was where the Mormon trail separated from the Oregon Trail. The Mormons would come out and reenact their trip west; complete with costumes, hand carts, and camp sites (this event deserves its own blog; or maybe multiple blogs).

This is what it looks like from the air.

And this is what it looks like from the ground.

As you can tell, there is a distinct difference between the areas close to the water versus the vegetation far from the water. Therefore, the majority of the wildlife lives near the water. It was truly a vivid description of the food chain; from the plants to the bugs, the bugs to the birds and rodents, and from the rodents to the rattlesnakes. The vegetation changed in height; from about knee high to chest high. The weed we were after was the tallest plant, so it was easy to see from afar. However, the grass was so dense that you had no clue what you were going to step on. This was a common sight:

The fawns are taught to stay low in hopes that a predator won't see them, and then the mother runs away, attracting the predator from the baby. So then the wolf/coyote runs after the mom. Pretty cool example of sacrificial love.

Anyways, when given the choice, I would walk in the shorter grass. Just the name Rattlesnake Mountains gave me the chills, but the cowboy who worked with us said "this is the only place I would wear snake chaps." So, once again, I am on guard.

After getting wet, the rattles on the rattlesnakes are silenced. Also, they don't rattle when it is cold or windy. And they don't really move a lot when it is cold or windy. On this particular day, the wind was blowing about 50 mph. I was walking along the shorter grass, finding the weeds, and blazing a trail to them. I was on a stretch that did not have any weeds or grass for that matter, and I was walking fast, with my head down. As I went to take a step, all the sudden I see a rattlesnake coiled up right below my foot. Before I had time to react, it struck, biting the bottom of my boot.

Now that made me mad. I mean, give me a rattle or get out of my way. I decided to make an example out of this rogue serpent by killing it and displaying its skin on my 4 wheeler. So I began to try to hit it with my sprayer wand; the cowboy way. With each attempted strike I made, the snake matched me, coming closer and closer to my hand each time. I looked around to see if there was anything I could use as a weapon and I found a driftwood log; it was about 4 ft. in length and I couldn't wrap my hands all the way around it. It was also fragile, so I couldn't use it as a bat. So I decided I would make jabs at the snake. I began to jab, with my hands in the middle of the log for balance. Then, the snake pulled a rope-a-dope, dodged my strike and made a strike of its own. This happened so fast that my only reaction was to pull my hands, log attached, back towards my body as fast as possible.

Now, when you push the end of a log into your face as hard as you can, your body reacts in funny ways. First comes the blood. I hit myself just above the right eye, and all the sudden I saw red dripping into my eye and face. The second reaction I had was that blurry, fuzzy thing you get from head injuries. At first it was like glitter, then more like fog. During the fog part, my body was saying "Ok, time to lay down Matt. It will be ok, the ground is soft". But my head was saying "You are about to get eaten by a rattlesnake. It will be like one of those National Geographic movies where the snake eats the elephant. You know, their jaws expand when they eat and you are a skinny kid". I was able to will myself back to the real world, and I killed the snake as it was in retreat. I spent 30 minutes skinning it and preparing the rattles; I called myself Trace for the rest of the day. All my friends I worked with made fun of me, and they still do. I almost got taken down by a 4 ft. snake.

lawrence

in wyoming, us georgia boys rented a basement in downtown casper. our friends named it "the peach farm"(georgia peaches... pretty lame state name). for what we were using it for, it was a decent set up. washer-dryer, full kitchen and a bathroom (it had a shower curtain). but that was it. we all bought air mattresses, lawn chairs, tupperware, a small grill and a TV. the plan was to come home every friday, take a quick nap, then head to the tetons/big horn mountains for some fishing/backpacking. but some fridays we were just too worn out from work. as the weekends in town became a tradition, we knew we needed some more comforts to our house.

when our crew got in on friday nights, we hit the town hard; another "cowboy way". one night, while i was DD-ing (designated driver), we saw an old recliner chair and a huge couch out on the sidewalk. we threw them in the truck and excitedly drove straight home. the time was about 2:30 AM.

our basement had only one door, and after that, three 90 degree turns in a compact area. somebody lived upstairs, but none of us had met him. he was an oil digger; in charge of a giant well out on the prairie. he worked for 7 days, then he was off for 7 days. we were also told by our landlord that he was fresh out of jail and was on probation, but could be trusted. when he was home, we could hear him and he could hear us. and for fans of Office Space, he literally looked like lawrence, just a little thicker:


back to the couch. since 3 out of the 4 of us weren't operating on all cylinders, it became the nights mission to get the couch through the series of turns and into the basement. we tried to snake it though quietly, and when that didn't work, we went to forcing it in very loudly. it didnt take an engineer to see that it was not going to happen. one of my roomates, thinking that "lawrence" (we named him) was out on the prairie, decided to go up the basement stairs and into his apartment to open the front door. the couch would totally go down the basement stairs. long story short, "lawrence" almost killed my friend that night.

the next morning, we saw "lawrence" working on his car. me and breaking and entering decided to go apologize. here is the conversation:

us: "hey man, we're sorry about all the noise last night and for trying to get into your apartment. we had just a little too much fun and we really wanted that couch down there"


"lawrence": "aww, its cool man. i was just pissed cause i had my lady friend up there. know what i'm sayin'?"

us: "yeah. it wont happen again"

"lawrence": (staring into space, deep in thought for a few seconds). "Let me ask you boys a question. The couch, 'zit got big f-ing arms on it?"

us: "yeah. i guess."

"lawrence": "yeah. i reckoned it did." (then abruptly walks off, down the sidewalk)

the rattlesnake diaries; part 1

this is long, but a fun story to tell:

i had a flashback this morning. i pass on grass, so it wasn't drug induced. but the flashback did take me back to a part of my life that not too many folk know about; my summer in wyoming. so i have decided, since the flashback was so horrible, that i would air it out.

last summer, i went out to wyoming with three of my young harris college buddies. we all worked for the natrona county weed and pest district, which is a division of the bureau of land management. our western states are fighting a slew of foreign plant species that have taken over the prairies, mountains, and grazing lands. these plants choke out the native species, and most of them are toxic to the livestock. different states have different management plans, but wyoming has the most aggressive one, focusing on eradication rather than management. last summer, wyoming had a "10 most wanted" species list and they employed college students and young adults to provide the labor. we were all on the "backpacking crew" which meant we would spend the work week camping in the backcountry. we would take 4 wheelers and back pack sprayers, load them up with herbicides, and go hunting. i would ride the 4 wheeler as far as i could, then park it and use it to refill my backpack sprayer. the terrain in natorna county (county is larger than connecticut)looks like old western movies; flat and dry, canyons, mountains, and creek beds with vegetation. all in all, it is harsh land. at work i climbed mountains, descended into canyons, went up draws, and hiked the prairies. it was incredible. i enjoyed being by myself, and being surrounded by an unfamiliar environment. but most of all i enjoyed the ability to think to myself as i hiked 15 miles a day.

for those that don't know, i hate snakes. everything about them. i dont even like to look at pictures of them, nevertheless get so close to kill them. wyoming has an abundance of two kinds of snakes: the bull snake and the rattle snake (they look alike and even share dens together). my friend weston has worked in wyoming for 4 summers, and he tells me the stories about the "cowboy way" to kill a rattlesnake. first you make the snake coil up, then you take your 2 foot long sprayer wand and thump the snake in the head which concusses it, and that allows you to place your heal on the snakes head and grab its neck and separate the head from the neck. according to wes, the head just "pops off". the old cowboys told me to avoid the rattle snakes unless property owners nearby asked us to kill them or a member of the crew would be walking in the same area. we were told that if we were accidentally bit, the state would pay for a helicopter to fly us to a hospital and treat us. but if we were messing around with the snake, well, we were idiots and the state of wyoming doesnt make a habit of keeping idiots alive.



my first run in with a rattler was with two other workers. we were working the top side of the "red wall":



we were all in a canyon with walls too high to scale and the snake was in the middle of the path. it was coiled up and rattling hard. we were all watching it and trying to think of what to do. after getting my nerve up, i reacted. remembering the "cowboy way", i took my plastic sprayer wand, reared it back behind me, and took a hard billy club swing at it. of course i missed it, broke my sprayer wand, and watched the snake try to strike my hand (during all of this i was screaning like little richard). the other two were able to take out the snake, and i walked away shaken up, for i now knew the determination of the enemy.



from the next few weeks, everytime something moved anywhere near me, i jumped and screamed. i probably looked a sissy, but i worked by myself so i had no problem with that. so many things can scare you when you are thinking rattlesnakes; rabbits and sage chickens, the wind shaking the plants (there is actually a plant that has a rattling seed pod), and anything that moves. but i started to get confident. i killed a few very easily, some without a fight. by late june, my count was up to 5, and i felt like i was the ultimate slayer of rattlesnakes (i still screamed like little richard, though).

but there was a fight looming ahead that i couldn't see, a Rocky III type fight. i was over confident and cocky, while the mr. t of rattlesnakes was ready to knock me out and eat me...

To be continued...

word

Johnny Cash on mistakes



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