"A RATTLESNAKE UNDER THE SCRABBLE SET ON THE COFFEE TABLE?"

"Whar I come from" the only good rattlesnake was a dead one. You mod conservative live-and- let-live folks--I must admit--I now just about agree with you. The older I have become, the miracle of all forms of life totally fascinates me. I don't hunt anymore, but watch the doves on our back porch, eating grain. But back to the rattlesnake: he is sneaky, he is deadly; he will bite you from a hidden position, you will get a swollen leg, get very sick, and you may die. And not only do we invade HIS habitat, HE invades ours...as you will see.

Once while hunting south of Mountainair, a friend of mine and I visited Gran Quivira National Monument. There were nice gravel paths laid out and professionally painted signs, saying "Beware of Rattlesnakes!" After our walk, I asked the ranger at the park, "Do you keep a shotgun handy to dispatch those suckers." "No," he replied, "We have a barrel cage on the back of our pickup, and we scoop them up and take them four or five miles back into the boonies!" "Hmmm," now I'll have to admit, that was a new one on me. Totally new. I know they are supposed to be useful in keeping down undesirable rodent populations and other pests.

We lived in Childress, Texas once, for about three years. That is rattlesnake country--that and all around for hundreds of miles. From there to Paducah, Throckmorton, Guthrie, Matador, Aspermont, Peacock, to  Sweetwater (the "Rattlesnake Capitol of the World.") We had a farmer friend a few miles north of Childress.   He once had a nest of rattlers rattling under his bedroom closet. It seems he tried some sort of fumigating, etc. but nothing worked. He finally got someone--a hired hand, no doubt, promised a handsome bonus, to crawl under there and drag them all out. Thanks, but I believe I"ll pass. His  field hands from Mexico would not reach down and pick up bundles of stalks and grain; he had to get rake handles and have a smithy make hooks to hook the twine and turn each bundle over.

One of my friends there got himself one of those great and popular Browning Automatic shotguns with a beautiful glossy blond finish and took it hunting one day. He encountered a deadly BIG rattler about six feet long, the kind with the black and white rings around the tail. He blew that snake's head off and brought me a photo. That snake was bigger than a person's arm!

I hunted and fished over there for three years and never encountered a snake in its habitat.   BUT: a snake came TO OUR HABITAT one warm Sunday November afternoon. We lived on the north edge of town. Out little house had a washer and dryer up front of the garage, in front of the car.

I had left the garage door open...It was late afternoon and we were getting ready for church; I was the minister of music in the church. My wife, went out to retrieve some clean diapers from the dryer--there being no paper diapers at that point in history. She had to cross in front of the car. Now, suddenly I heard all kinds of screamy sounds, like only a scared woman can make (no disrespect intended, ladies.) My first thought was, that since we were near the highway, a bum had wandered into our garage. I went running and met her in the kitchen--HER HAIR WAS ACTUALLY STANDING UP!! I mean it; I never had seen that before. She managed to gasp: "RATTLESNAKE! RATTLESNAKE! UNDER THE BUMPER!"  Somehow that snake had got riled up, and she thought she came close to having been bitten.

Being the quick-thinking, decisive, and protective man that I was, I sized up the situation, ran out the front door, looked under the car and there HE WAS, A MAD RATTLESNAKE, STILL RATTLING. Now, I got mad; he was invading my milieu, and threatening my beautiful wife. I grabbed an old rusty hoe (one I had found buried in my back yard) went up by the front wheel and started rolling him out from under the car onto the lawn, using the full length of that old rotted hoe handle. I dragged him out and by then, miraculously, all the neighborhood kids who were skating and playing, had picked up with their kid-radars that something was going on and there they were. I brought that hoe down over that ANGRY RATTLESNAKE'S head and dull as it was, it cut off its head...BUT THE HANDLE shattered into several pieces, cutting my pinkie severely. It was bleeding.  My wife gave me a "my hero" hug, bandaged me up good, and I'm sure I looked funny that night, directing music at church with my hand all white with bandages.

Once, again on a warm sunny November, 1962, with snow in the borrow ditches, my dad and I were northwest of Melrose, where there is an old homestead, seemingly on every section, from 1930s depression days. I got into a brushy pasture, heard a rattler five feet away, took 12 giant steps, heard another and then another. I fired a couple of shots at them--to "cover my retreat"-- and Dad came over and said: "We'd best clear out of here!!"

My son had a sales route in Texas for a large company. In a sizable city, he became friends with a store owner who had a newly purchased ranch near Matador, Texas. Needing some mesquite for outdoor cooking, he was offered all he wanted by this dealer. Accordingly, my son went there for an all day trip, pulling his trailer. He heard some good snake stories while there.   That ranch was a hotbed of rattlers. The previous owners had killed 15-20 snakes a year, some IN THE HOUSE ITSELF.

The wife lived there and the husband commuted home on weekends. She gave my son a picture of a giant rattler coiled up under the coffee table with a Scrabble game sitting on the table. I have seen that picture! The greatest snake story I ever heard is this: The wife lived out there alone during the week as we have noted. One morning, not too long after acquiring the ranch and its very modest little house, the wife woke up, yawned, stretched, and suddenly heard a loud rattling over her head. She, frightened out of her wits, jumped up, looked up--and of all things-- there was a big rattler coiled ON THE CORNER OF THE CURTAIN ROD!! Now forgive Mil but he wants to embellish this story slightly: She jumped up, grabbed her 20 gauge 870 Remington pump shotgun. chambered a shell, and  firing from the hip, brought the snake down, plaster and all.

Immediately, she heard another RATTLE! ON THE OTHER END OF THE CURTAIN ROD!

Seeing another big rattler and sizing up the situation, she swung the shotgun, all the while shucking the fired shell, chambering a new one, and firing from the hip, bringing down the second snake. My friends, I have to ask you: does even DUCK HUNTING get any better than this?!

Okay, so it wasn't a pump--it was a single shot 410 shotgun (Bor-rr-ing) But she did shoot, go find another shell, and shoot again getting them both.

I would say, (if I knew) she slept on the couch that night...but remember the coffee table snake. Let's say she slept on the cabinet top.  LOL. Oh yes, they found primitive plumbing behind the bathtub: Big cracks where the pipes entered the house; they had it fixed professionally. Later on my son went back, after these events, and spent the night...with one eye open. I'll just get a motel, thanks, and check the bathroom plumbing!!

More snakes: next time from readers! WO! COTTONMOUTHS? CORAL SNAKES? ("Red on yellow will kill a fellow.")

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