Rattlesnake!

One thing I found out about real fast was that Tanbark Flats had plenty of Poison Oak, Kangaroo Mice and Western Diamondback Rattlers. We nicknamed it "Rattlesnake Gulch," because of the abundance of theses guys. Their favorite food, of course, was the Kangaroo Mice.

The rattlers were most active in the late afternoon when temperatures began to cool down. Being exothermic (cold blooded) creatures, it's hard for them to control their body temperature. It must avoid getting too cold or too hot. That's why it prefers to hunt in the late afternoon and early night during the summer months. Its eye sight is poor so it relies on infrared (heat) detectors to find its prey. The two pits on its head are its detection devices. It basically has night vision and once it locks in on a target it's dead meat. Its venom  is quite powerful and is even more concentrated in the younger snakes. Since venom is what it relies on to survive, it doesn't want to use it unless hunting or threatened. That's what its rattlers do for it. It warns friend and foe not to mess with me. So you gain respect for this unique creature.

We always had to use caution when cutting brush or just walking in the woods. During fires this was especially true. All animals are frightened by the flames and try to escape, including rattlesnakes. Getting bitten while on a  fire line could become a life threatening situation real quick.

In the barracks there was a tote board with rattles on it. There must have been at least a hundred. They had been placed there by past and present crew members. None of us, that I knew, went out of our way to kill a snake. Most came from surprise meetings with the serpents.

One evening I was heading down from the barracks to the mess hall. The path leading down there was made of asphalt and about four feet wide.  Since the barracks were on a slight hill, with the mess hall below it, you had a tendency to do a jogging motion down the incline. I had gotten about half way down when something caught my eye. It was a rattler warming its body on the pathway. I saw no head or tail. Both were still in the bush. All I saw was four feet of rattlesnake body.

That evening I learned how to fly. I made a leap over the snake that would have made Michael Jordan proud. I cleared that snake by at least five feet and ran all the way into the mess hall before stopping. Knowing that the other dudes were coming down and unaware of the danger on the path, I knew I had to return and try get rid of this critter.  I feared snakes. They represented the devil on earth. Of course, this came from my religious indoctrination.

I grabbed a shovel and went back to the path hoping the snake was gone. But there it was, still warming itself.  I made the decision. I must kill the snake by cutting its head off. Without much thinking I turned the shovel sideways, exposing the blade, and struck at its head. The body of the snake recoiled and the rattle started. But it was to late for the poor creature, because I'd delivered a deadly blow. I took no pleasure in what I'd done.  The rattler was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

About that time the guys started coming down the path and began to realize what had just happened. You heard cries of "holy shit" and "what the F?"  "Did you kill it?"  "Damn, it must be six feet long!"  I was getting pats on the back and guys saying, "Way to go man!" Someone said, "Hey find the head. Need to bury it. It can still cause damage." That afternoon at dinner I was the talk around the table. It was bittersweet. Of course, I loved the admiration of my peers, but I felt bad that I had to kill a creature that was just trying to survive, like me.