The Snake Pit

My family would occasionally travel to a large lake and spend a couple of nights in our fold out camper-trailer. We typically had a great time swimming in the lake and cooking hot dogs ("dough-ee, dough-ee, dough-ee" is another story). I received a pretty bad sunburn on my legs one year, nearly drowned another year and almost became snake food another time.

My younger brother and I crawled out of our sleeping bag early one morning. Our father would often get up early and go on a solo morning hike. On this morning we saw him half way up a rocky slope on his way to the small hills that surround the lake. We quickly ran across the road and began moving across the rocks in an attempt to catch up with dad. The rocks were fairly large scree which required us to hop from rock to rock with our short legs.

By the time we were half way of the slope, our father had started his progression up the steeper sandy slopes of the hills. We both heard the rattle at about the same instant bringing us to an abrupt stop. In front of us in one of the voids between the rocks was a relatively small rattle snake, coiled and ready to strike. We quickly took a couple of steps backward, turned to the left and took two steps forward. To our shock, another head lifted from between the rocks and warned us with its vibrating rattle.

We again took two quick steps backward out of striking range. We then, turned to the left and took a couple of steps forward in a new direction. In our minds, our fate was sealed as once again a fearsome head stopped our retreat. The rattle, like the others, sent chills through our bodies as we lept backward once gain. This time we grabbed onto each other, realizing that we were "surrounded" in a dangerous situation.

"DAD!!!" we hollered, seeking his help. Screaming to him our predicament, he told us to chose a fourth direction and slowly, and cautiously make our way back toward our camp. RIGHT, did he actually expect us to move from the only place we knew did not rattle? Eventually, from several hundred yards away, our father convinced us to move from our place of safety. Step, by step we began to traverse the rocks, stopping to listen occasionally.

We finally made it back to the road without needing to suck venom out of each others legs. To my amazement I have not developed an unhealthy fear of snakes from that experience. I did learn, however, that snakes are very stealthy. I often wonder how many snakes were in that "nest" we unintentionally invaded. I can't imagine that we flushed out the only three snakes in that ten foot circle. Did we luck out and find the only clear path out?