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I’ve always had a snake phobia. I grew up in the desert (the Mojave Desert in California) and I had to watch out for snakes when I’d walk my dogs. I’d read articles on the Mojave greens (rattlesnakes common in the area) and how deadly they were, and that perpetuated by fear. It didn’t help that whenever I encountered a snake as a kid, the snake and I would both be surprised. They’re long. They’re reptiles. They don’t have legs. That’s just…just wrong.
For quite a while, my phobia got worse. I once went to a Halloween party and saw a guy with a little bitty snake on him. It was part of his costume, but I bailed from the party the instant I saw the snake. I was totally irrational about it. I mean, the guy wasn’t a kid. He wasn’t going to stick a snake in my face when he knew I was afraid of it. Phobias are pretty irrational though, eh?
About ten years ago, I lived in a basement apartment for six months whilst my house was being built. Walking down the steps, I saw a snake. I screamed. My Labrador puppy wasn’t afraid though, and he introduced himself to the snake. That cost $75.00, because apparently Valor was allergic to whatever snake it was. His cheeks seemed to quadruple in size. After sufficient screaming a neighbor came over with a shovel and carefully removed the reptile to a non-trail area. I was so freaked that time, I failed to protect my buddies.
Irrational behavior isn’t so good when you’re on the side of a mountain. One day I went hiking with my dogs, a Great Dane and a Labrador. My buds were off leash. They pretty much stayed in sight and more or less came when called, so I didn’t worry too much about them not being right at my side. That is, I didn’t worry until I heard the Great Dane barking. She found a rattler. She “cornered” it and kept barking and barking. The rattler kept rattling and rattling. I called the dogs to me, and my Labrador came. The Great Dane wasn’t about to come because she had to bark at the snake. I leashed the Labrador and asked another hiker to hold him and skirted around behind the Great Dane. I managed to grab her, leash her, and move her away without the snake striking. (Which was a lot better than that time we encountered the skunk, and I didn’t successful remove her in time.)
For the most part my snake phobia isn’t a big deal. I’m a city girl, after all. If these legless critters insisted upon rattling in the hills and attending parties, I needed to get a slightly better grip on myself.
A few Discovery channel snake shows helped. A few trips to the zoo helped me a bit. Knowledge is power. Knowledge helps pout phobias in perspective, right? Besides, the zoo has glass cages. I could be in a room with snakes in glass cages without running away immediately, and that was progress.
My next encounter was, fortunately for me, with a dead snake. My husband and I were traveling from my grandparents house to ours. I was seven months pregnant, and well, let’s just say I made my husband find a side road and then pull over. I opened the door. I’m glad I looked down because there was a coiled rattler right now. I freaked a bit, but realized that the coiled snake was actually dead. I don’t know how that happened, but I’m glad I didn’t step on it anyway.
Whilst still pregnant, I took my little daughter on a mini hike around a lake. Toward the end of the trail, two-year-old Anna pointed and said “Snake, mommy!” Yes, sure enough, there was a snake. I couldn’t tell if it was a bull, gopher, garter, or rattlesnake. (Actually, I thought bull, gopher, and garter were different names for the same kind of snake.) The snake wanted to cross the trail. Despite the big rat-sized lump in the snake, I picked up the toddler and waddled my seven-month-pregnant body in reverse.
I had more snake encounters today. Fortunately, these snakes were in glass cages. Also fortunate for me, the volunteer at the Morrison Natural History Museum was not afraid of snakes, sympathetic toward me, and spent a ridiculous amount of time answering my inane questions.
The first thing I learned is that the gopher snake, garter snake, and bull snake are three different types of snakes. They do have some things in common, though. They all survived the ice age (and were thus housed in the “survived the ice age section of the museum”) and they are all non-poisonous. A milk snake was also in the ice age section.
I think I can now remember “If red’s next to black, you’re okay Jack. If red’s next to white or yellow, yer a dead fellow.” I might even remember it if I actually encountered a milk or coral snake. That was the first time I heard the rhyme and it actually stuck in my head.
The volunteer spent a lot of time telling me about the bull snake and the rattle snake. There were two bull snakes in the museum. She said the bull snakes have round pupils. Sure enough, I saw round eyes. She said the rattlers have vertical slits, but if you can see vertical slits you’re way too close. She said the rattlers have white on the outside of their brown spots and the bull snakes don’t. The rattlers have the “pits” on their heads and have boxier heads. I’m thinking that if I can tell the snake has pits on his head or a boxy head that I’m too close. The white rings or no white rings might be a method for me to distinguish bulls and rattlers. But, who am I kidding? I don’t want to differentiate the critters if I can avoid it.
The museum had two gopher snakes too. They have skinner heads than the bull snakes even. The male snake was dull and had glazed over eyes. She said he was shedding and couldn’t see until finished. She said that the male gopher snake had been in captivity for 40 years. They don’t know how old the gopher snake was when it was captured, but wow, I didn’t think snakes could live that long. Apparently, they aren’t hurt from not having their winter hibernation (due to the artificial lighting and warmth and winter feedings provided by the museum) because they are still living lengthy lives.
Well, I feel more educated regarding snakes. I think I can keep myself from screaming, and protect my buddies and progeny next time I encounter a non-caged slither-er. This is good.
After we got home, Anna asked Leon why milk snakes were called milk snakes. “I don’t know,” said Leon. “Will you google it, Daddy?” As it turns out, there are legends of milk snakes milking cows. Now, that’s a disturbing image and I’m really glad my kids eat solid food.
