I am going to write a short paragraph in order to place the first picture in this post a little lower. That will enable you to decide whether you want to view it or not. Wouldn't it be great if all the posts and pictures could be of birds and spring activities like the two previous posts? I considered forgoing the posting of pictures I took today because they will disturb some folks. Really, though, it is just part of the experience we call life. If you have read this blog for a while, you know that I left a management job to return to a craft position delivering mail in Wetumpka. You have also seen scenic pictures of spots along the Coosa River where I sometimes eat lunch or take an afternoon break. This afternoon, I stopped at one of those remote spots to walk along the river and eat my apple. As I walked along the water's edge and over the trashy sediment (branches, weeds, etc.) left from the high-water mark after recent heavy rains, I spotted this shape that contrasted with the straight lines of limbs and branches;
Even though his body was muddy and his head was hidden by leaves, I knew this was a cottonmouth moccasin.
Since he was not moving, I took these two pictures. Then it was time to search for an appropriate weapon. As a kid going fishing with my dad, he would cut what I called a switch if he saw a moccasin or rattlesnake. That always made me nervous. Once we were working our way to a creek and he spotted a moccasin, cut a plum branch and went after him. The theory was that the small, limber switch would break his back and he would die quickly. This particular day the theory did not hold up. Dad got in a couple of good whacks before the snake slithered into the undergrowth and we could not find him. "Great" I said, "now you have spanked him and made him mad and we don't know where he is." I don't remember anything about fishing that day because my attention was on where I stepped going in and coming out. I personally subscribe to the Buford Pusser theroy; walk softly and carry a big stick. So I found and broke a limb about as big around as a softball bat and maybe 4 feet long. One blow was probably enough--but I gave him three. He will not be bruising anybody's heel. Here is the final picture showing that he is about 3 1/2 feet long and showing that he is still hated because his great-great grandaddy lied to Eve so long ago.
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