Snakes on a Desert Plain
I
have a friend who is scared to death of snakes, as is the case with lots of
folks. A few weeks ago she was out in
her yard doing a little landscaping and recoiled in horror as a she watched a
black snake slither under her front porch.
End of landscaping session; start of frantic phone rant session.
“I
hate snakes! I hate snakes!” she
shrieked into the phone for five minutes. Then she lifted the receiver and
called me.
“I
hate snakes!” she screamed again. “I hate ‘em!”
“What
happened, did you see a snake or something?” I asked.
“Fuck
you! I just saw a big-ass snake crawl under my porch!”
“That
was just my pet snake, Reggie,” I reassured her. “Come on! Show a little backbone will ya?”
Feeling
confident that I had satisfactorily comforted her after hearing her final words
of, “Can you PLEASE come over here and – ” <click> I hung up.
I
have a few snake stories of my own. But most of them are of the
"you-had-to-be-there" variety and also of the "dull"
variety (no deaths), so I'll only relay a couple dozen of the good ones to you.
Here’s one:
When I was in the Air Force stationed at godforsaken Edwards AFB in the Mojave Desert, I saw quite a few rattle snakes. Most of the rattlers I saw were sidewinders, which are very creepy and harder to run from than you might imagine.
I was once put on a week-long detail where about 50 of us were loaded into trucks and traveled about 30 or 40 miles out to a 1920s-era wooden shack in the middle of the Mojave to decontaminate a bombing range. The bombing range was to be converted into a parachute drop and it seems the Air Force didn't want any poor, unsuspecting paratroopers to land on any shrapnel or unexploded ordinance, so they sent our sorry asses out there to step on and remove as much shrapnel and unexploded ordinance as we could.
Anyway, the snakes -- they were everywhere! Along with tarantulas and scorpions and all kinds of other indigenous wildlife personnel I'd never seen before. Between the various assortments of venom and the hidden, unspent ammo, I was pretty sure I was gonna die.
Well somehow, for some reason, somebody caught a sidewinder and managed put it into a burlap sack. A couple other wing nuts caught two scorpions and put them in a wooden-framed wire cage. They were placed in the back of a pickup truck for safe keeping.
When we got back to the shack after a long day of bombing range decontamination, it was decided by mob rule that the scorpions needed company, so the cage lid was lifted and the contents of the burlap sack were emptied into it.
What transpired after that rivaled anything ever seen in "Them!" – the rattle snake and the scorpions, mano a mano. The snake coiling and striking and the scorpions grabbing the snake with their claws and stinging it endlessly with their barbed, poisonous tails. It was a hell of a sight. I’m talking PTSD stuff.
When I was in the Air Force stationed at godforsaken Edwards AFB in the Mojave Desert, I saw quite a few rattle snakes. Most of the rattlers I saw were sidewinders, which are very creepy and harder to run from than you might imagine.
I was once put on a week-long detail where about 50 of us were loaded into trucks and traveled about 30 or 40 miles out to a 1920s-era wooden shack in the middle of the Mojave to decontaminate a bombing range. The bombing range was to be converted into a parachute drop and it seems the Air Force didn't want any poor, unsuspecting paratroopers to land on any shrapnel or unexploded ordinance, so they sent our sorry asses out there to step on and remove as much shrapnel and unexploded ordinance as we could.
Anyway, the snakes -- they were everywhere! Along with tarantulas and scorpions and all kinds of other indigenous wildlife personnel I'd never seen before. Between the various assortments of venom and the hidden, unspent ammo, I was pretty sure I was gonna die.
Well somehow, for some reason, somebody caught a sidewinder and managed put it into a burlap sack. A couple other wing nuts caught two scorpions and put them in a wooden-framed wire cage. They were placed in the back of a pickup truck for safe keeping.
When we got back to the shack after a long day of bombing range decontamination, it was decided by mob rule that the scorpions needed company, so the cage lid was lifted and the contents of the burlap sack were emptied into it.
What transpired after that rivaled anything ever seen in "Them!" – the rattle snake and the scorpions, mano a mano. The snake coiling and striking and the scorpions grabbing the snake with their claws and stinging it endlessly with their barbed, poisonous tails. It was a hell of a sight. I’m talking PTSD stuff.
Then
King Kong showed up in all his full stop-motion-animation glory, ate the snake
and both scorpions, then made off with the pretty blonde screaming jeep driver.
We never saw her again.
So my advice to all of you is to get out there and crawl under that deck or front porch on your belly with a flashlight and a burlap bag and show a little backbone, will ya?
So my advice to all of you is to get out there and crawl under that deck or front porch on your belly with a flashlight and a burlap bag and show a little backbone, will ya?
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| Brave, PTSD-inducing scorpions "showing a little backbone" |
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