10: RATTLESNAKES AND REPTILES
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It has often been said that a rattlesnake is a gentleman and will not strike without warning you. Those people have probably never looked one in the eyes when he was cocked and
primed and ready for business. I would not trust anything (or anybody) with eyes as beady as a rattlesnake's are. Do not forget a snake spends his time out in the rain and on cold ground
and is likely to develop an arthritic personality! They will
usually warn you when they feel that it is to their best interest to do so. Genesis 3: "I will put enmity between you and
the woman, and between your seed and her seed. He shall
bruise your head and you shall bruise his heel." A snake with
his tummy full of rabbit or squirrel is not nearly as anxious to
strike you as a hungry one would be. One of the greatest dangers is in stepping over a log or surprising one.
Bob Akins, whose father was a scout during the Seminole
War, tells of his father waking up one frosty morning and
finding a big rattlesnake on his blanket. He got out of the
blanket very quietly, shook the snake off the blanket and
watched it crawl away. When his buddy asked him why he did
not kill the snake his reply was, "He didn't hurt me when he
could have and now I ain't going to hurt him." Snakes do
have a tendency to move slower on cold mornings and I don't
believe are quite as dangerous.
The cutting of palm buds has for generations been a partial
livelihood for a few people around here. They cut all winter
and sell to a central depot where the buds are packed and
shipped to the northern markets, where they are used on Palm
Sundays. This could be dangerous work, for you have to be
continually looking up instead of studying the ground. We
haven't sold any long poles or wide chisels lately so maybe
they are not cutting the buds out of tall trees anymore. Garland Strickland told me he was looking up when something
hit his boot and when he looked down, there was a rattle
snake. He backed up and pulled off his boot to find that the
snake had hit the boot where it was reinforced and the fang
did not go through. Then he took a stick and killed the snake.
Willie Brazeale tells of cutting buds with an ax when a rattlesnake ran between his legs. He cut the snake in two before
it could get out of range. Makes you wonder what would have
happened if the snake had struck. Many dogs have been killed
by snake bite, but comparatively few people. There was a
little girl getting some heart of palm for breakfast in South
Jacksonville Beach when she was struck in the stomach by a
rattler. Her brother brought her to the doctor but it was too
late. Nobody ever worked harder to save anyone than did
Dr. Earl Roberts.
It is generally agreed that if you are going to be bitten, it is
best to get it on your lower extremities, for the higher you go
the fewer volunteers to help suck out the venom.
The late Pete Dickinson was struck on the leg by a rattler
and was fortunate enough to have Frank Johnston, a real
woodsman, along with him. Frank put on a tourniquet and
got all the venom possible out of the bite. Incidentally, a
tourniquet can be a dangerous thing if left on too long. Pete
recovered and I don't believe was any the worse for the experience, except he could have been a mite more cautious.
Rattlesnakes generally don't like to swim but they can and
will if need arises. They swim higher in the water than other
snakes, giving you the impression they are
trying to keep their
rattles dry. We saw one coming from Goat Island across the
St. Johns River to St. Johns Bluff and formed a reception
committee for it. Never has a snake been more warmly greeted than was this one. Figured that Goat Island had become
overpopulated and this particular snake liked peace and quiet.
We have the diamond back rattler and the ground rattler,
and I have seen some strange ones that I could not identify
but they did have rattles. Ben Robertson tells of coming out
from under a house and meeting a carpenter who was preparing to do some work under the same house. "Any snakes
under there?" the carpenter asked. "Only one, and he is a
baby, because I saw him playing with his rattles!" was Ben's
reply. That slightly unnerved the carpenter. The ground rattler has a tendency
to be a little sluggish and slow of action;
but there is nothing slow about a diamond back, they strike
like lightning when they make up their mind to strike.
Generally, a rattler will not run after anyone, but someone
saw one along the roadside just north of Ponte Vedra, Florida,
and he was about to get away when we came up. We threw
sand at him to keep him coiled until he got so mad that he
started toward us. If he had kept coming he could have had
lots of room, but he changed his mind and just stayed there
and rattled until someone came up with a rifle. One shot
through the head and that made a good snake out of him.
Snakes are like anything else, when they use up their venom
it takes a while for it to be replenished. A boatload of fishermen were crossing the canal when they saw a rattlesnake
swimming across. After beating the snake with an oar until
they thought it was dead, the rattler was brought closer to
have a look-see. The snake bit the oarsman on the finger but
the man suffered no ill effects from it. It is my opinion that
the snake had bitten the oar until he had run out of venom,
and the fact that the man was loaded with shine had nothing to do with it.
One old gentleman by the name of Webb thought he saw a
button on the ground and picked it up - only to find that the
button was attached to a ground rattler. He was bitten on the
finger but it apparently did him no serious harm. He did quit
worrying about loose buttons after that and lived to a ripe
old age.
Our Georgia relatives. Henry and Wiladel Howard, were
visiting us and, as usual we were going to have a fish fry in our
back yard. There was no shortage of oak firewood, for free,
out across Penman Road, so we headed for the woods and
soon filled the trunk of Henry's car with good firewood. We
had a good fish fry and the next morning our visitors headed
for Savannah, Georgia. The car was stopped in front of the
hotel and the porter reached into the back of the car to pick
up the bags. He was jerked violently back by Henry, who was
as pale as a sheet, and was pointing to something on the floor.
There was a rattler! We had picked up the snake the night before in our
wood gathering and it had spent the night, plus a
nice ride to Savannah, in the car. That snake never made it
back to his happy home in Florida.
It was Sunday morning on Pablo Avenue in Jacksonville
Beach and the bars were not allowed to open until 12:00
noon. When the whistle blew, the thirsty crowd flocked into
the bars to get something to slake their thirsts, and among the
crowd was one Tommie Kelley. Tommie was carrying a croaker sack with something
in it. After two or three drinks, someone looked down and there was a
rattlesnake on the floor, fully alive and wiggling. Nobody stopped to ask questions but
stampeded for the door. After things quieted down, Tommie
just sat there watching the snake and refusing to hurt it until
someone killed it with a tire tool. When he was asked by the
police about the incident, he told them there was a hole in the
bag, and there was. That is how he had gotten the snake into
the bag in the first place. Some of you will remember the old
Bamboo Bar where the incident took place.
Sometime later, one of the participants in this stampede
told me of visiting Tommie's home and finding cages everywhere with rattlers in
them. He would accumulate snakes of a
certain size until he got enough for a trip to Ocala where he
would take the snakes and sell them to Ross Allen. He apparently had no fear
at all of snakes, and it was through this carelessness that he was finally
killed by one. Dr. Earl Roberts
told me this about Tommie: "When he was a kid he was
brought into my office on a door, with a bullet lodged in his
heart, and for days he hovered between life and death, finally
taking a turn to the better and getting entirely well." This
same boy became a ranger in World War II and served his
country well in the South Pacific.
How big does a rattlesnake grow? I've read authoritative magazines telling that the maximum length of these snakes
was nine feet, and I'm sure they should know, but recently a
picture was uncovered in South Florida showing an eleven foot
rattler. I have in my files a picture of a rattler killed by George
Mills of New Smyrna Beach in 1938. This rattler was shot on
the highway and here are its credentials: mouth expansion
thirteen inches, circumference thirty inches, weight three
hundred pounds, length seventeen feet. Boy, what a barbecue
you could have with that fellow!! I wish that the picture was
of sufficient quality to reproduce well.
There was a time when rattlesnake meat could be readily
bought at the gourmet section of the A & A grocery. I don't
believe it is available anywhere at the beaches now. It came in
small cans already cooked and ready to eat, but somehow I
just can't want any. Some of my Georgia relatives came across
a man who had run over a canebrake rattler and was in the
process of finishing the job with a stick. The snake was beyond
this vale of tears when they picked him up and carried him
home. Ouida Dearing, my niece, told the boys to clean the
snake and she would cook it. The meat was cut into strips,
buttered and fried, just like they do chicken in Georgia, and
from all accounts it was delicious. I'll stick to chicken.
Quite often you hear people say that when you see black
snakes, you will see no rattlers because a black snake can and
will kill a rattler. I have heard people tell of seeing a battle
between the two species. Their explanation was that the black
snake was a constrictor and wrapped itself around the rattler,
pulling it apart. I can think of nothing less appealing to me
than to be wrapped around a rattler, but then, I am not a constrictor. Hogs
get rid of snakes if they are placed in woods
where snakes are plentiful. They augment their daily diet with
snake meat. Strangely enough, a hog will dive into the water
after a snake and out swim him. My brother Frank tells of
having seen this; sorry I missed it. Rattlers are tough, and running over one
in a car does not always kill it. So, many drivers
lock their brakes and slide over one. That really lacerates the
hide and usually kills him with a little help from a stick. I have
killed them by throwing rocks (out in the Ozarks) with sticks
and by shooting them with a revolver, but somehow their
beady eyes make me nervous when drawing a bead on him
with a pistol. I think the ideal weapon would be a shotgun,
although I have never been fortunate enough to have one when
I needed it. My friend, Mrs. Mable Weaver, met a rattler in the
road and since there was not a stick handy, she took off her
rubber boot and killed the snake with the heel of the boot.
Mrs. George Mickler tells this story of snakes. She and her
first husband, George Ortagus, had built themselves a small
one-room shack down on Big Cypress in St. Johns County
where they went from time to time to spend a few days fishing. This Big
Cypress section has been famous for its fishing
for generations, and the Ortagus always enjoyed good fishing
there. Mrs. Mickler said, "When I went into the shack one day
I saw the tail of a snake disappearing through a hole back of
the little wood pile inside the house." This scared her so much
she told her husband they would have to chink up every crack
or she would not stay there. They got busy nailing and chinking up cracks and
making the cabin tight and had practically
finished the job, except for a few minor details which she was
doing while her husband went back to his fishing. This is what
happened next:
I was standing in the middle of the room, with the hammer in my
hand, when I heard something that sounded like someone dragging
a bag of flour along side the shack and toward the front door. A
big six foot rattler came crawling in the door with his mouth open;
his tongue flicking from side to side and his rattles singing a melody. The
snake looked from one corner to the other as he came in
and made no attempt to strike me as he passed within three feet
of me, as I stood screaming. It was very noticeable that the snake
was crawling on the middle portion of his body with his head and
tail held high. The snake crawled under the bed and stayed there
while I screamed bloody murder because there was only one door.
My husband, down on the dock, heard me and came running to
see what was happening. George was a little hard of hearing and
didn't hear the rattles as he stood near the bed—and I could not
stop screaming long enough to tell him that the snake was under
the bed until the rattler had struck at him twice and caught his
fangs in the bed springs each time. Then, the snake crawled over
into the corner and lay there; apparently at home, until he caught
a load of shot in his face.
We figured that the snake had been accustomed to coming
up through the hole in the floor and had made his home in the
cabin. That is, until he found the hole blocked, and the door
open—and then he came in looking for his happy home. Mrs.
Mickler said that it was some time after that before she could
even comb her hair because of the scare. The next morning,
after she had been to Mass, she came home and found her husband hunting his
shoes. She looked down, and for some unknown reason, she had worn his shoes to church!!
For years it was customary to call Jim Burroughs when
someone saw a snake or gator and generally, Jim would come
up with the critter. Apparently, he loved to catch them. The
story is told that Jim was bitten by a rattler and someone gave
him something to put on the bite. Thinking it was the usual
snake remedy, he drank it and was caused some discomfort by
the effects of the medicine. Ivory Rice tells of being invited
to lunch with Jim and as he walked into the house he heard a
familiar sound; rattlesnakes rattling. The nearest exit was a
window and Ivory went through it taking sash and all. The
snakes were in cages but Ivory did not wait to see, he knew
the sound.
Ross Allen gave a demonstration and lecture on rattlesnake
milking before the Rotary Club in the Mayflower Hotel in
Jacksonville. It was my good fortune to be sitting at the head
table so I saw and heard it all. Ross had brought his snakes in a
handbag, with each in a separate bag, so that he would not
have two snakes to deal with at the same time. As he began
the lecture, he would open a bag and pull out a so-called harmless snake and
show it to the crowd. As the lecture proceeded,
the snakes he was pulling from the bags looked worse and
worse. Finally, the climax. As he opened the last bag, he remarked "got to
catch him looking the other way." Out came a squirming rattler, held firmly by
Ross. I'm sure he could not
be as big as he looked while wrapping himself around an arm.
Chairs scraped as people sat on the edges of them and the waiters stood in the doorways poised for a track meet. Bet you
could have sold a wagon load of tranquilizers to that crowd,
for they really needed them. Things have really changed.
This same crowd, that became so nervous over watching an expert
take a calculated risk, had among them men whose fathers and
grandfathers had watched public hangings on Beaver and Market Streets before the turn of the century.
Ross held a glass in his left hand and pressed the snake's
mouth open over the edge of the glass until a white liquid
came out. The snake was dropped back into the bag and the
bag tied up. The venom is not poison to drink and Ross says
that it has a sweetish taste. Long ago I swore off rattlesnake
venom and meat, and I don't intend to break that pledge.
For some years, we had a salesman from Connecticut who
was always wanting to see a rattlesnake. This salesman was
known by the affectionate title of D Y, and really wanted to
see a real rebel rattler. One afternoon Gerry Adams came by
the store with one on a string and pitched it close to D Y's
feet. We had all of the openings we needed in the store and
D Y was restrained from making another one. So far as I know
he never mentioned snake again, not to Gerry Adams anyway!
Bob Akins was going up Seminole Road when a rattler tried
to cross in front of him. Being a carpenter, and a good one,
Bob took his hammer and killed the snake on the road surface.
That is mighty close for comfort. Henry Dixson tells of watching a rattler lying under a blackberry bush and eating berries;
one at a time. He would rise up, pick one, then lie down and
eat it until he had his fill.
I suppose if it had not been for the rattlers in Florida, there
would not be any game or much of anything else left in the
woods. Fear keeps many people out of the forest and maybe
that is a good thing. Ben Robertson tells of hunting squirrels
late one afternoon. As he came to a small clearing, he heard a
rattle and then another one. He killed seven rattlers in a little
cleared spot about ten by fifteen feet. Fortunately, he was
shooting a shotgun, but when things quieted down, he pointed
himself toward his car and his shirttail did not hit his rear end
until he made it to the car.
Several years ago, four horned toads were s°nt to Mayport
as souvenirs of Texas. The lady to whom they were sent kept
them in captivity for some time, and then turned them loose
to make their own way. Make their own way they did in grand
style! It was not long before horned toads were running
around sand dunes, and most anywhere else you could look.
They kept the ant population to a bare minimum and since
they were perfectly harmless, most people were glad to have
them around. Then they began to slowly disappear until today
it is difficult to find one in any of their old haunts. They were
greenish in color and rather striking looking little reptiles. We
have caught them on the sand dunes but never attempted to
keep one for any length of time.
About the time that horned toads were plentiful here, an
article came out in the paper telling of a hundred year old
building that had been torn down in Texas and there was a
horned toad in the corner stone, still alive. Sounded "froqgy"
to me, but when you realize that our herd, gaggle or covey of
toads only lasted about ten years here; it was a truly fantastic
feat. If there be a moral here it would seem to be that the
longer you sat on your bottom, the longer you would live—if
you were a horned toad and lived in Texas.
The armadillo came from Texas as a gift to someone whose
name I won't call since armadillos have not been nearly as
acceptable as the horned toad. These critters can really dig
and if you want to shoot one, you have to do it fast. The armadillo hasn't
learned, as yet, that a pedestrian has no right of way in this country and, as a consequence, many of them are
failing to reach a ripe old age. Caught one in the sights of my
revolver and he was heading out of sight before he caught the
second slug.
For years we had heard how good turtle eggs were. Then,
someone gave us a mess. They looked like ping pong balls and
are about the same size except they have a dent in their soft
shell. There will always be a dent somewhere, no matter how
you press it. The thing that disturbed me most about eating
one was that the whites never harden; no matter how much
you cook it. Some people can eat them by the dozen but,
after trying a few, I gave it up as a bad job. Guess I'm not
enough of the old frontier type.
We never had the pleasure of going turtle egg hunting before this sport (so called) was outlawed. But, somehow I have
never been over enthusiastic about cutting down on the population of sea turtles, especially since I don't care for the eggs
or the meat. They are pitiful looking after they have been
turned over on their backs. They try so hard to right themselves with their flippers and by sticking their necks out as far
as possible, trying to straighten up, all to no avail. They may
not do so well on land, but I've seen them out in the ocean a
long distance from shore and they really are graceful there.
Turtles do have a hard time when there are people, foxes,
coons, and other varmints to steal their only means of propagation. When a turtle leaves the water, she leaves a trail across
the sand to the edge of the beach. There she digs a shallow
hole and an enormous clutch of eggs is laid there. In due time,
the sun will hatch the eggs through the light covering of sand,
and then all of the little baby turtles can head for deep water
and comparative safety. It does not take a bloodhound to
trail a turtle from the edge of the surf to her nest. Then turning one on her back to lie there and die is just not cricket.
Two drunks were fishing down near the canal bridge and
caught a fair sized gator. They brought him in; konked him on
the head, supposedly killed him, and threw him into the back
of their car and headed home to make a pot of gator tail stew.
When they got home and opened the back of the car, the gator
came out to greet them. They finally killed him by beating
him in the head with an axe. They then cut off his tail for the
stew. A partially drunk spectator remarked that it was the
bloodiest mess he had ever seen and would have no part of it.
They did say that if you fried gator tail, left it overnight, the
next morning it would be raw again. I can't verify this but I
know one thing, I don't intend to eat any gator tails. It's
illegal
now anyway. There is no accounting for the taste or
actions of a drunk, especially if he is drunk on homemade
shine still retaining fuel oil.
My friend Joe Jones, a full blooded Cherokee Indian, turned roofer and carpenter, tells of some of his experiences with
gators. "We would row a boat along side one and jump onto
his back, wrap our arms and legs around him and capture
him." I expect there were times when it was a toss-up as to
who would capture whom. A gator can and will bite you but
he has far more power in closing his jaws than in opening
them. He is like a politician; when he gets his mouth open
nothing can stop him" Joe also tells of poaching gators by
airboat and out-running the law until they could land and dispose of the gators, (usually in a pickup truck), until such time
as they could be skinned and their hides sold. Saw an affluent
gentleman in one of the bigger department stores trying to
buy a pair of alligator shoes. He was told all of them had been
shipped out, but the price had been $140.00 per pair. Sin
comes high as Mama Eve could very well testify. When you
listen to a bunch of bull alligators sound off on a clear night
it makes you wonder how anyone would have the courage to
go out looking for an alligator.
It had always puzzled me as to how so many baby alligators
could be found in the pet shops. Joe Jones (not the Indian)
made a business of finding gator nests and taking the eggs
from them while mama wasn't looking. Then the eggs were
put into a barrel filled with muck and trash that would generate heat so that the eggs would hatch out. As soon as they
were hatched, they were taken to a pet shop and sold for cash;
a rare commodity at that time. Buster Jones says he and his
father were in Mount Pleasant Creek looking for eggs one
night when he saw what looked like a tidal wave coming his
way. He knew that it was mama and broke some records for
evasive action.
Around here when someone speaks of a gopher they are
generally referring to a dry land turtle, not the little pocket
gophers of the west. On the authority of Ananias Kiel I can
tell you how the gopher came by his name. Two Geeches were
going through the woods and one of them pointed to a turtle.
"Man, look yonder, what a turtle!" The other one replied,
"That ain't no turtle, he ain't got no tail." "Well, he will go
for one," said the first. Tradition has it that gophers, being
cold-blooded and of the reptile family, were acceptable as
meat on Friday in the Catholic communities. Thus, gopher
stews became very popular on Fridays. They do make a good
stew if you can just manage to keep everybody around the pot
sober, and stop them from putting in so many datil peppers.
It makes you wonder if it was a gopher that Aeschylus, the
bald-headed Greek playwright, was brained by as the eagle
dropped it on his head.
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