We had driven for miles over rough roads across the desert to inspect the archaic inscriptions that were scattered among the black rocks. I brought my two daughters, ages 11 and 13, who wore tennis shoes and were eager to explore along the long jagged cliffs. It had rained just minutes earlier, giving a pungent smell to the air and a dampness to the dirt.
Jenna and I climbed over the rocks and had already found several glyphs. Some appeared to be random squiggly lines, while others were recognizable as animals or men. Depictions of humans bore horns on their heads, which from what I understand, represent power, not the devil.
Suddenly, Jenna announced that she had to use the bathroom and she darted down the rocks toward our vehicle. As I stood on a large slab that was precariously balanced over a small ledge, I heard her yell out, “Dad, I found a snake!”
I expected it to be a blow snake, or some harmless breed of serpent. But when I made it to Jenna's side, I examined the design and color of the snake's skin and knew at once this was a rattlesnake. The small reptile appeared to be “teenager” in size and sat motionless in a coil with his head resting on his body. The infamous “rattle” was out of sight for the moment. Entwined in a near perfect coil, Jenna mistook the serpent for a cow pie at first.
There are some people who claim they
see rattlesnakes all the time, but I am not one of those people. I
could probably count on two hands how many rattlesnakes I have seen
in my lifetime. I recall finding one at a family reunion on the
mountain and my dad promptly killing it with a shotgun.
I have never killed one personally, but will admit that I have a secret desire to photograph one. And not just any photo will do. I want the snake coiled up, with the rattle and head both showing. It must be crisp. I've taken one other picture of a rattlesnake and it didn't quite meet all the requirements.
So now I was standing two feet away from a creature with lethal venom, next to my daughter, and my biggest thought was to get a picture! Of course, I made sure that Jenna was at least four feet back. And by now, Savanah was there too.
“I think he's sleeping,” Jenna said. Indeed, the creature didn't move. I was half-tempted to find a stick and see if he was even alive. I decided against that, but instead stood two feet back and leaned as far forward as I could over the coiled snake to get an areal photograph. This worked for a few shots, but suddenly the serpent awoke, and his once hidden rattle whipped out and stood erect, and vigorously vibrated. We all stepped back as our heart rates doubled. The rattlesnake uncoiled and writhed for a moment before slithering to a nearby bush where he entwined once again.
I couldn't just leave the situation. I hadn't taken the perfect picture yet. Now the creature hid beneath the bush, and although we could see it, there were branches and a pesky little plant that blocked part of the view. And he wasn't showing his rattle anymore. I will admit that I made a couple controversial moves and shook of the bush and tossed a twig or two toward him. I considered goading with a stick, but decided I wasn't that desperate.
After several minutes of waiting, we decided to move on and continue looking for petroglyphs. It wasn't twenty seconds later when Jenna shouted out, “There's another one!” Just twenty feet away from the first, spiraled up and basking in the sun, a large rattlesnake watched as three humans gathered around him. He was at least twice as big as the first and it didn't take long before he slid beneath a nearby rock, but still in plain view beneath the shadow of the overhang.
His rattle made the noise of death and appeared to vibrate at a hundred miles an hour. As he coiled up, his tail passed directly in front of his face while his long black tongue flicked in and out. His head, neck, and upper section lifted from the rest of the body, as if poised to strike at any moment. I quickly tried to remember the rules of how far a snake could strike, not sure if it was the full length, or half. Either way, I kept my distance.
I was able to snap some pictures that I felt should be satisfactory. But every few seconds I would gaze behind me to be sure there wasn't another serpent at my feet. Jenna tried to film with her phone, but admitted that she was still shaking. She was standing in an ant pile and didn't even know it.
After ten more minutes, we once again
decided that our stalking of the snakes must be abandoned. We let
the nervous creature be to himself and the rest of
us humans decided to continue on. Jenna, after being the one to
discover both snakes, opted to spend the rest of her time inside the
vehicle where she was safe from any venomous bite.
Savanah and I continued to inspect the rocks for ancient inscriptions, but I admit that we spent more time looking at the ground than at the rocks. To put it mildly, I was paranoid. And then, to confirm all my paranoia, I spotted another rattlesnake just in front of us! He was as big as the first, and coiled up on the dirt, next to a cluster of cheat grass. I quickly grabbed Savanah's arm and yanked her back! This wily serpent didn't get any of our attention. No pictures. No gawking. We just moved out of the way and walked around it!
We stayed for an additional hour without
seeing another snake. We found some intriguing petroglyphs,
including some from the U.S. Cavalry in 1868. But most of the glyphs were
much older and chiseled out by the Native tribes who lived here over
a thousand years ago.
I wonder if the snakes are connected with these ancient people, somehow watching over and protecting their sacred site.
We finally called it quits and began driving the rough dirt road back toward our home. We hadn't gone far when I saw that we passed another snake. This one was elongated, no doubt attempting to cross the road. As I stopped the vehicle, we all raced behind to catch a glimpse of what it was. Sure enough, it was a rattler. This one was much smaller, which would make him more venomous. We watched for a fleeting few seconds as the young serpent wagged his rattle and slithered into obscurity through the grass that grew on the side of the road. ♠
No comments:
Post a Comment