I remember that my first adventure into snake shooting was in the bed of a rocky dry creek with tall green trees shading both sides of the creek bank. I had wandered into this area of the creek sporting my trusty brand-new 4/10-guage shotgun and I was huffing and panting, ready to chalk up my first hunting victory at the expense of some slithery, fanged serpent denizen among the rocks in that creek bed.
The day was hot and it was Mid-August. I had brought my friend, Dennis, along. His task was to lift the rocks to see if there were any snakes under them. Dennis was proud of his task and did it well. He would lift a rock and if there was a snake under it, I would take aim and shoot at the snake. I can still hear the echo of my gunshot reverberating up the minor canyon formed by ages of running creek water.
I can also still hear, in the ear of my mind, Dennis’ Mother screaming at me, “If you get my kid snake bit I will kill you!”
I never doubted her word and Dennis never got snake bit either.