They also make great pavement decoration. I had the dubious distinction of being bitten by a Timber Rattler 23 years ago. I'd love to share a manly story of how I was deep in the wilderness, mano-a-mano with this 8-foot monster, but the truth is I was getting my mail when the SOB struck me, and he may have been 3 feet. Too damn absorbed in flipping through bills, etc. to have my antennae go up at that buzz. I turned to head back to the house, still perusing the mail, and he nailed me. He was coiled in a flower bed right by the mailbox.
Fortunately, he hit me low around the ankle, so there wasn't a lot of venom injection. First rule of snakebite? Stay calm. Right. All I could think of was, "the hospital needs to be sure of the species so they can administer the right antivenin. This snake cannot get away. Snake, you're dead." I threw the stack of mail - which included a fairly heavy express package - on top of the little $H%T and proceeded to jump up and down on him with both feet, cursing at the top of my lungs, till I had a nice red mess. To this day I wonder what the neighbors must have thought . . .
I scooped up the snake tartar, threw it in the floorboard of my car, and drove my "calm" self to the hospital, where I walked in to the ER, presented my evidence pretty forcefully to the poor nurse, and insisted heatedly that my life be saved immediately. This was a Friday afternoon in November, and Georgia was playing Auburn the next day, and I had tickets dammit!
Long story short, a night of observation, some nausea and swelling, no anti-venin necessary. Early Saturday morning the doc suggested I stay a second night, but I explained my priorities and how traffic was already building to that fever pitch between Atlanta and Athens, and kickoff was at 1:00 sharp. Period. See ya'.
The point being, ever since that little adventure I've had a pretty sensitive Rattler Radar. Cottonmouth and Copperhead radar too, come to think of it. I recall playing golf at a course in San Antonio a few years ago (The Quarry), which had signs all over warning golfers not to go beyond the rough into the rocks searching for balls due to rattlers. I saw at least 50 different rattlers lazing around in the rocks during the 18 holes, and I wasn't even trying hard. When we finished, the other 3 guys in my foursome laughed long and hard about the scary signs but no snakes anywhere . . .
