I would introduce you to Jimmy "O" properly but apparently he is on some kind of "witness protection" program. I only have pictures of his butt or when his face was covered up when he was painting the pump house at Beaver Hollow. Notice the dedication for camp though, painting even though he is sporting a broken arm.
…anyway one time “O” invited a friend of his down from Portland to come camping with us at Beaver Hollow. Going out for our nightly “hayride” we came across a big rattlesnake lying on the warm shoulder of the roadway. This is where I would always take control of the dangerous self-induced situation. Standing on the seat of my tractor (so I had a better view of the ensuing ordeal) I barked out orders to Corey dancing around with the venomous creature. Trying to remember to keep the tone of my nervous, high-pitched voice lower as to not show my greenhorn on the ground that I had any fear. Having this snake captured in the headlights of my tractor (oh yeah horses don’t have headlights either) I emphasised my commands, to not let the little sucker crawl over the steep bank. Corey goes to whacking at the feisty snake hissing at him, with a shovel. I yell out my instructions, flip the snake back onto the roadway. Of course with Corey's adrenaline flowing he almost flings it into one of his fellow unwary snake wranglers pockets. Now they all begin to also dance around in the middle of the roadway trying to avoid the fangs. 
During that excitement is about when the tractor motor dies and the headlights dim. Now with Corey’s eyes trying to adjust to the near darkness he continues to miss the snake with each increasingly futile blow while coming dangerously close to his cronies with the sharp shovel head. Sparks are flying off the shovel when it strikes the hard pavement and I’m increasingly getting worried he is going to set the surrounding tall dry grass along the country road on fire. Boy wouldn't that look good in the local newspaper headlines. "Raging Wildfire caused by Billy Blaze while Killing Poor Rattlesnake." Finally Corey gets a lucky hit in and kills the rattlesnake. We (I mean they) cut the rattles off the tail and bury the rest of the snake in a deep hole to prevent yellow jacket bees from eating the poison from the rotting snake head.
Now stuck in the dark with a nervous trailer load of whining campers, a tractor that won’t run (out of gas), in a near wilderness located several miles from camp, my hay riders vote that I should be the one who walks back to camp in the dark, on a road crawling with poisonous snakes to get more gas. I try to reason with the disgruntled passengers that a "Captain" never leaves his ship or in this case my tractor. So I begin to seek out a willing volunteer in our group to take on this dangerous rescue mission. Thank God Lauren drives up about the time the unruly crowd was threatening me with the shovel. Lauren always carried spare gas with him, whew.
Our hero last night, Lauren.
Finally with us all getting back to camp safely that night and settling down around the a warm campfire. Corey pipes up and asks the activities coordinator (me) what’s on the agenda for tomorrow night? Hunting Grizzly Bears with a pitchfork?
Now that's not pink paint Jimmy O is spraying, is it? Looks pink to me. Seems like a odd color for a rustic camp ground, don't you think?
ReplyDeleteI'm not real sure where Blaze got the idea for the nightly rattlesnake hunts, but seems to have been past down through generations. You would have thought the family would have just hunted the one found crawling in around the Home Place. I think the highest count for one year was 30 killed on the flat, several years ago. It's not unusal to see a shovel, hoe or some long handled tool sitting by a porch or corner of a building, just incase and no one is allow to yell,"Snake," unless it's a rattler. So far no human has gotten bitten but several of the family dogs haven't faired as well. At least a couple times, it was the dog that kept one of the kids from being bitten. It was always Blaze's Grandma Mary that doctored and pulled the hero dog through, with her "Kill or Cure," methods. One dog we called Freckles and not real sure he was saving anyone but just snooping in a driftwood pile, let out a "yipe," and started rubbing his nose and Grandma Mary swore she saw 2 little blood spots on his nose. Back to the house we went where she had bought a new Cutter snake bite kit, had read the instructions and managed to get that piece of paper all folded and rolled back up, inside that little double ended suction tube. She's explaning as she get out that little razor sharp knife and telling us to hold him still, she is going to cut X's and suck the poison out. A dogs nose bleeds real well on it own, but she is still sucking on it and the poison out when a friend drives in and said get in, we better take him to the veterinarian, some 30 miles away. So by the time they get in GP at the vets, little or no swelling, but dog is weak from loss of blood and Grandma get scolded that it appears to be a bee string and she did more damage to the nose with her cutting and needs some stiches now. Nose healed up alright, but looked funny after that.
Hey we were poor in those days. We just mixed what ever paint Loren and I could scrounge up and mixed it together. Beggars couldn’t be choosy when it came to the priming paint color.
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