Snakes

Virtually every experienced Pennsylvania small stream trout angler you talk with has a rattlesnake story or two. Some say they’ve almost stepped on one a number of different times. Others report seeing a rattler lying out in the warm May sun on a logging road or a streamside boulder as they were hiking or fishing along. A few even claim to have been struck in the boot leg by a Pennsylvania rattler.

Almost everybody has a rattlesnake story. Except me. I cannot honestly say I’ve ever seen one while fishing in Pennsylvania. And that strikes me as a little strange because over the years, I’ve probably spent as much time fishing small streams in Pennsylvania rattlesnake country as anyone.

I’m not sure whether to feel left out or lucky. When the talk turns to rattlers, the best I can do is to offer that I “may” have seen the southern end of a northbound rattler disappearing into the high grass once on Young Woman’s Creek and maybe another time on the West Branch of Hick’s Run. And possibly one other time on Lost Creek in Juniata County. I can’t say for sure, the snake was gone so quickly. But maybe..

In the meantime, guys have told me that that they often find pairs of them hanging off the porch rails of their camp on Cross Fork. Or they saw three rattlers walking the first mile of the trail into Fish Dam Run. They were four, five or six feet long with bodies as thick as the business end of a softball bat and huge triangular heads with darting forked tongues and evil, red-slitted eyes. Or they were fumbling their way along over the bowling ball-sized rocks along the banks of the Loyalsock and looked up just in time to see a rattlesnake, coiled and menacing, just a couple more steps ahead.

Other guys see them everywhere, even in places where I’m pretty sure there haven’t been any for over 50 years. But not me. I see an occasional water snake, quite a few muskrats, thousands of herons, a bear now and then and once, an otter. No rattlesnakes though.

That’s OK. Beyond the obvious benefit of having so far avoided the trauma of seeing a rattler up close, this rattlesnake encounter immunity I evidently have also allows me to not pay any attention to other anglers who tell me that while such and such a creek is loaded with trout, I’d have to be nuts to go there and try to fish it. Its just lousy with rattlesnakes, you know. Doesn’t mean a thing to me. Even if the placed is paved with vipers, I know I’m not going to see them. I never do. So, I can relax, forget about the snakes and concentrate on fishing. So, fair warning.. Don’t try your “beware the snakes” voodoo on me to try and keep me off your creek. I’m immune.

Or maybe I’m only immune to seeing Pennsylvania rattlesnakes because I actually have seen a rattler once in my life. It was about five years ago on a lonesome blacktop 20 miles from the nearest gas station, way back in the dairy country of southwest Wisconsin while driving from stream to stream. As I understand it, rattlesnakes are far less abundant in Wisconsin than they are in Pennsylvania. So seeing one there was sort of like the equivalent of seeing a Yeti or a highway maintenance crew where everybody was working at the same time in Pennsylvania. Pretty rare. Anyway, I came bouncing around the corner in my Focus wagon and there it was, bigger than life, stretched out in the middle of the road soaking up the heat. I steered around the snake and stopped beside it and watched as it slowly slithered its way off the road and into the weedy ditch. It was a rattlesnake, alright. Body as big around as the business end of a softball bat and a huge triangular head with a darting tongue and evil red-slitted eyes. Unmistakable. I can’t wait to get back to Pennsylvania to tell the guys..