Rattlesnake wranglin'

We can't let the summer pass without at least one rattlesnake post, can we? (Ophidiophobes, turn back now.)

It was 7:00 last night. I was at my desk. Smooch was napping in the next room when all of a sudden she let out one of her five-alarm barks. I joined her at the back door, where we watched at least a hundred swallows swooping and diving around the back porch, squawking like nothing I've ever heard. Hmmmm, we wondered. We couldn't figure out what had them all riled up, so Smooch and I stepped outside. Silly us. There was no mistaking the telltale sound we heard now, even through the din of the swallow squawking – it was a rattler.

Smooch spotted him before I did, coiled up between the garage and the grill. I grabbed the snake pole and used it to block Smooch from getting any closer, then ordered her to move back. She didn't. It took a few more tries, but she finally sat down, then I scooped her up and took her in the house.

I gathered my wits and my stuff – shoes, phone, camera – and went back outside. All the recent practice I've had relocating bull snakes served me well. I was able to lasso the rattler and dump him in the nearby ash can without incident ... or photographs. So allow me to recreate the scene.

Thanks to Shadowhouse Creations for the bird brush!

When we Smooch spotted the rattlesnake at Point A, he was directly below a nest, to which the swallows took great exception. They wanted that bad boy out of their territory, as did I.

With the rattlesnake secured inside Point B, the question became what to do with him. I decided to load him up and take him for a long drive. Erring on the side of caution, I strapped down the can.


As we headed out the gate, I started imagining the conversation I might have if I happened upon my neighbors.

Q. Whatcha got in the can?
A. Ashes. And a rattlesnake. Wanna see?

Down the road we went, me and my snake, just out for a drive. I pulled over at the bottom of Rock Hill and unloaded the can. I found a long stick and used it to pop off the lid. Then I held the camera at arm's length and aimed it into the can, because I knew most many a few one or two of you would want to see him.

So then I kicked over the can. Much to my dismay, the snake did not rise from the ashes and slither off into the weeds. Apparently, I had buried him. Worried that he was suffocating, I tipped the can all the way over.


Great. Now how can I get my can back, not get bit, and take a picture at the same time? Very carefully, I sidled up to the can, tipped it upright, and ran like hell.

That silly snake just rose up and rattled. I would have thought that he'd have run slithered for his life. Shows you how much I don't know about rattlesnakes.

In any event, I reclaimed my can and headed for home.

As from all ranch adventures, there are many lessons to be learned:
1. The creatures with whom I share this place are very, very smart. All I have to do is listen to what they're saying.
2. I need to start wearing shoes when I'm in the house.
3. Until snake season is over, whenever I leave the ranch, Smooch stays indoors.
4. 1/60 of a second is too slow to freeze the motion of a rattling tail. Next time, use a higher shutter speed.