|photo credit: Wikipedia|
As one of the leaders carried the limp, lifeless snake away to dump it in the bushes, I called out “Hey! Don’t throw that snake out. That’s going to be my new hatband!” So as I requested, they dumped the slimy thing into my cooler and covered it with some ice. I knew the training would be over in a few hours, and it would keep good until I got home when I would skin and process it.
Four hours later after I returned home, ate, rested a bit and relaxed, I decided to get back to work and go skin that snake. I may be a bit reckless at times, but I’m not stupid. Instead of reaching right in to get the snake, I carefully opened the lid of my Igloo and glanced inside to see its condition. To my surprise (grossly understated) the snake was not only NOT dead, but it was coiled up, pissed off and hissing at me. Then it tried to crawl out of the small cooler. After I regained my composure (and changed my shorts) I carefully and systematically considered all my options, which included a gun, a fire extinguisher, canoe paddle, dumping it and running, and abandoning it in some field far far away. I was able to throw a few more cubes of ice into the cooler to slow its system down a little I reckoned, and buy me some more time.
I could not decide what to do that was going to be easy and quick, so I put the snake cooler in the back of my truck to go ask the guys at the local firehouse. I figured if I was going to get bit by a snake, I’d rather do it with an EMT and ambulance there to step into. The firemen didn’t want any part of the project. They wouldn’t even come near my truck. They muttered things regarding liability, being not covered for that, blah, blah blah. They were willing however to come to my house and pick me up if I got bit and called 911. To this day, I don’t understand their logic. I just think they were scared like me.
|The finished hatband.|
And that’s the truth.