Pit Vipers


Snaky days my friends, and the summer yet not arrived? Snakier soon for certain.  Joey B and I saw a juvenile Cottonmouth on the Goose Pond trail the other day, out there where the little toddlers run ahead of their waddling parents, and little  companion dogs rush belligerently to the ends of leashes.  Snakes, snakes, snakes, everybody watch for snakes.

S’quatch blasted over this little sweetheart, not touching it, but causing it to jump and spin so in the next moment I passed it we both, snake and I, were coiled in menacing postures.  I tacked around her in detente and called ahead to S’quatch, whom I knew I could trust to take my phone to an uncomfortably close distance and get this picture.

And there we were, goofing around with a poisonous snake when none other than Bill O came steaming down the trail.  I could make out the red, white, and green Joe’s jersey through the trees, but it took another moment to recognize that relaxed, low-slung posture of Mr. Forest himself.

So there I was, at the end of a beautiful day with the darkly glowing afternoon sun shining through the pines.  After weeks of everything but a bike ride being the most important thing, it is just that easy.  Meet a friend, see a snake, find another friend, then fox squirrel, sinkhole, and churning white powder sand out of corners and counter-steering through washed out lines.  A simple, magnificent, bike ride.

Fast enough to know better, too slow to care,


5 Responses to Pit Vipers

  1. I’ve had the one oak snake but he did not threaten me but the bluebird eggs. I worry about the children in my yard. I know we have snakes galore. I should let the chickens into the fenced area where the kids play because I’ve heard they will keep them away but I don’t really know if that’s true.
    Yes. Let’s all be careful.
    And by the way, that was a lovely post.

  2. The boys and I were hassling snakes over here on the left yesterday, too. We must frequent the same places- under rocks, and such.

    You read Harry Crews’ Feast of Snakes? It’s his good one, and right up your neck of the woods. My favorite is when the bitter old redneck is questioned about the pitbull (Tuffy) to whose jaw is chained a cinder block as the dog “trains” on the treadmill. The old man says something like, “I don’t know how much longer he’s got. He don’t either. But we both know when he’s done.”

  3. First Harry Crews book I ever read. It’s one of his greats, along with the Knock-out Artist in my opinion. We’re proud of our freaks in Florida, and Mr. Crews and his creations are top of the list.