Highway 380, New Mexico: Dead Snake

I like snakes.

Too bad about this one.

Maybe a western diamondback rattlesnake, Highway 380, just east of San Antonio, New Mexico

Western diamondback rattlesnake?

It was a long one.

It is now part of my photo collection of carcasses.

"One Thing That Scares You Per Day Keeps Apathy at Bay"

Rattlesnake, Rattlesnake Museum, Albuquerque, New Mexico

One thing that scares you per day keeps apathy at bay, said one of my thoughtful readers in response to this post.

It's funny about fear. What doesn't scare me, scares you. And vice versa.

For awhile, I did Something Meaningful every year on or about my birthday. It had to be something that pushed me out of my comfort zone.  One year, I considered three choices: 1) go dancing, 2) engage in a gestalt therapy session, or 3) jump out of a plane. All three caused fear, and I chose the one that was the least scary. You guessed it. I jumped out of a plane.

I want to get around to the point that fear, after you complete the act that causes fear, is often funny. My skydiving story is very funny.

I laughed til my sides hurt on reading Bill Bryson's account of a possible bear (or two!) outside his tent, in A Walk In The Woods.

I was gasping for breath laughing at Molly Langmuir's story of her four-day hike in the Tetons, during which she was terrified of mountain lion or bear encounters every moment.  An excerpt:

On a scale of one to 10, how much fun did you have?
I'm actually not sure I had any fun. The trip was challenging, which I always like, and now that I'm through it, something I'm glad I did, but I basically spent the entire time in a state of sheer terror, so there wasn't much room for fun. I guess a one?

What was your main terror?
The bears. From my summer in Jackson I knew people out there take the bear situation very seriously — most years at least one person is attacked, if not in the Tetons, in Yellowstone — and to prepare I read the “Be Bear Aware” chapter of my trail guide about ten times (it is filled with this kind of thing: “a large percentage of hikers mauled by bears were hiking alone”) and dutifully bought bear spray. I still managed to keep my fear in check until I got to the park ranger station to sign up for campsites. The ranger who gave the canister you're supposed to keep all your food in and leave 100 yards away from your tent at night explained that even if you drink an Emercen-C in your Nalgene you should put it in your canister, and that was actually what put me over the edge. Because if bears can smell an Emercen-C in a closed Nalgene, they were clearly a sort of advanced supercreature that could definitely sniff out the crumbs I’d likely drop on myself at some point. Plus, for all I remembered the last time I had used my sleeping bag I had been binging on beef jerky right next to a barbecue smoker. Also I didn’t know how far 100 yards was.

Cheryl Strayed said in her recent book, Wild, the story of her 1990s hike on the Pacific Crest Trail, that she told herself that she did not fear mountain lions, bears, or rattlesnakes. That this was necessary for her to be able to embark on the hike. If she'd allowed herself to consider fear, then she couldn't have gone.

I'm currently trapped between the Strayed and Langmuir approaches --> telling myself there is nothing to fear on one hand, and on the other, continuing to walk with fear, when I go on a New Mexico trail. Where we have mountain lions and bears. I've not broken the fear barrier as I would like. I laugh at myself about my fear, although this doesn't make it less palpable when I'm in the moment, on the trail. 

Sign at Antelope Wells border crossing, New Mexico

Rattlesnake artwork, Chiricahua Desert Museum, Rodeo, NM

A funny thing about my predicament is that I'm not scared of rattlesnakes, but that's just about all anyone talks about here as far as scary things go. Indeed, in two out of three NM/MX border crossings, the first sign you may see is a Watch Out for Rattlesnakes sign.

New Mexico: Rattlesnakes

Rattlesnake, American International Rattlesnake Museum, Albuquerque, New Mexico

New Mexico seems to have a fascination with rattlesnakes.

Truth be told, I think the entire human race has a gut relationship with snakes in general. In Caucasus Georgia, there is a lot of fear associated with snakes, with a history of superstitions about their ties to evil. In the Old Testament, of course, Satan seduces Eve in the guise of a snake.

Growing up in Missouri, it wasn't uncommon for me to hear people note matter-of-factly that they kill any snake they see.

I kind of like snakes. Or at least, I feel no enmity toward them. I don't want to run across a poisonous snake, but that's my only concern, and even there, I know that most poisonous snakes will leave you alone as long as you leave them alone. (OK, those gigantic Burmese pythons are a different story.) Spiders on the other hand ...

But back to New Mexico.

There's the American International Rattlesnake Museum in Albuquerque, which I visited a few years ago and took these pics (no flash):

Rattlesnake, American International Rattlesnake Museum, Albuquerque, New Mexico

Rattlesnake, American International Rattlesnake Museum, Albuquerque, New Mexico

Alamogordo used to have what they called the Alamogordo Rattlesnake Round-Up. I'm not sure when it ended, but I'm thinking the last one was perhaps 2006. From the description of the Alamogordo (and other) rattlesnake round-ups, the participants were not examples of humans being their best selves, and I'm glad they ended, though in comparison with other round-ups, Alamogordo's seemed relatively mild. The Sweetwater, TX, round-up appears particularly egregious. I don't see any entertainment or educational value in covering one's hands in rattlesnake blood and then making a bloody hand print on a wall. (As Nely in Rustavi says, "not all of our traditions are good ones.")

In looking up rattlesnake lore, I was surprised to learn that the famous American admonishment, Don't Tread on Me, features a rattlesnake. I just thought it was a generic snake.

Gadsden flag. Credit: Wikipedia.

The colonists used the rattlesnake to depict the original colonies. Benjamin Franklin described the rattlesnake's "character" as follows:

"I recollected that her eye excelled in brightness, that of any other animal, and that she has no eye-lids—She may therefore be esteemed an emblem of vigilance.—She never begins an attack, nor, when once engaged, ever surrenders: She is therefore an emblem of magnanimity and true courage.—As if anxious to prevent all pretensions of quarreling with her, the weapons with which nature has furnished her, she conceals in the roof of her mouth, so that, to those who are unacquainted with her, she appears to be a most defenseless animal; and even when those weapons are shewn and extended for her defense, they appear weak and contemptible; but their wounds however small, are decisive and fatal:—Conscious of this, she never wounds till she has generously given notice, even to her enemy, and cautioned him against the danger of stepping on her.—Was I wrong, Sir, in thinking this a strong picture of the temper and conduct of America?"^[5]

All the more the pity that some of us demean an honorable American symbol in activities such as rattlesnake round-ups.

Some interesting rattlesnake lore here.

In Alamogordo, there's a guy who owns what he calls a trading post on Highway 82, just east of Florida Avenue. Moore's.

Moore's Trading Post, Alamogordo, New Mexico.

One of the maintenance guys at my apartment complex, who I'll call Javier, told me Mr. Moore keeps rattlesnakes at his place, and for a price, you get a balloon on a stick, and you put that in front of the rattlesnake and wait for the rattlesnake to strike it and pop it. Javier thinks Mr. Moore collects the rattlesnakes in the spring and then turns them loose again in the winter.

I went out there the other day to see these rattlesnakes. Sure enough, there they were.

Moore's Trading Post, Alamogordo, New Mexico.

Seventeen of them. Kept in a two-part, very large rectangular pit. There was water.

Moore's Trading Post, Alamogordo, New Mexico.

There were a lot of popped balloons down there. The snakes were coiled and still. Dusty looking.

Moore's Trading Post, Alamogordo, New Mexico.

One or two, though, when visitors spoke, would rattle noisily.

I wish I would have asked Mr. Moore questions about the rattlesnakes he keeps, but I didn't. Maybe I'll go back later and ask.

Moore's Trading Post, Alamogordo, New Mexico.

How are Mr. Moore's conditions where he keeps "his" snakes different from those of a person who keeps snakes as pets? Is the water clean enough? The space large enough? Do they get enough to eat? Is sticking balloons in the rattlesnakes faces better or worse than what other snake pet owners do? Are the snakes in good health? I don't know the answers to any of those questions.

In one of the rooms of his store, there are terrariums, almost all of them empty, but with cedar shavings and some sticks or a rock or two. I'm wondering if Mr. Moore winters some of the snakes in these.

Other than the snakes, Mr. Moore has a curious store. Note the oryx.

Moore's Trading Post, Alamogordo, New Mexico.

One room was filled with a pile of camo clothing. 

Moore's Trading Post, Alamogordo, New Mexico.

There was an imposing mannequin in another.

Moore's Trading Post, Alamogordo, New Mexico.

Buying a screwdriver was on my list of things to do, and lo, there was one for 50 cents.