OT for Drew

Drew remember the snake that thought your boat would be a good place
to go to? Did it look like the ones at this site?
http://www.kentuckysnakes.org/snake_...=non-posionous
I've learned that I don't suffer from insanity, I enjoy it! (The hell with what my X-wife told me)

Remove the x for e-mail reply
www.outdoorfrontiers.com
www.SecretWeaponLures.com
A proud charter member of "PETAF", People for Eating Tasty Animals and Fish!!!

"Dan, danl, Redbeard uh Greybeard now" wrote in message
...
Drew remember the snake that thought your boat would be a good place
to go to? Did it look like the ones at this site?
http://www.kentuckysnakes.org/snake_...=non-posionous

Randy and I saw one like that on Day Two.
--
Steve @ OutdoorFrontiers
http://www.outdoorfrontiers.com
G & S Guide Service and Custom Rods
http://www.herefishyfishy.com

It was kind of funny Steve...As you know I was medicating for my back
and it was still really bothering me. Drew was doing a great job
putting up with me. I heard Drew say something and didn't really pay
much attention until he said it several times. It then registered on
my "sleepy" mind that he was saying snake, snake!

I looked and didn't see anything until he said "Right in front of
you". The snake was about 8 feet in front of me, heading full steam
for the boat.

Well I couldn't allow that so I whipped the water in front of it into
a heavy froth with a Senko. The snake thought better of it and dove
down and away from the boat.

Sure glad Drew was wide awake and on guard for snakes...I would have
been a goner for sure. :}



On Thu, 4 May 2006 20:26:23 -0500, "Steve @ OutdoorFrontiers"
wrote:


"Dan, danl, Redbeard uh Greybeard now" wrote in message
.. .
Drew remember the snake that thought your boat would be a good place
to go to? Did it look like the ones at this site?
http://www.kentuckysnakes.org/snake_...=non-posionous

Randy and I saw one like that on Day Two.

I've learned that I don't suffer from insanity, I enjoy it! (The hell with what my X-wife told me)

Remove the x for e-mail reply
www.outdoorfrontiers.com
www.SecretWeaponLures.com
A proud charter member of "PETAF", People for Eating Tasty Animals and Fish!!!

"Dan, danl, Redbeard uh Greybeard now" wrote in message
...
Drew remember the snake that thought your boat would be a good place
to go to? Did it look like the ones at this site?
http://www.kentuckysnakes.org/snake_...=non-posionous

I dunno... I would be extremely paranoid about a snake trying to come in
the boat anywhere in the south or southeast. I have heard all kinds of
nasty sories about the agressiveness of water moccasins. We have our share
od deadly snakes in the southwest, but none are aggressive unless you
provoke them.


--
Bob La Londe - Webmaster
www.YumaBassMan.com

Tornament Director
www.YumaProAm.com



*** Posted via a free Usenet account from http://www.teranews.com ***

What is it with you guys and snakes? Is Ophidiophobia contagious?

Does a bass look like a sauger, crappie, or northern pike to you? No, of
course not. You learn to identify them and to treat each species
differently. You don't lip northern pike or walleye. You hold back when
setting the hook on crappie, while for bass you rare back and really cross
their eyes. You make a snide remark about "scaly cats" as you toss a grinnel
(or bowfin) back, but you hold up a big bluegill for others to see what a
fine fisherman you are. You string trout on a willow wand while letting the
shad go. And yet, every snake some folks see is a "water moccasin."

Just spend a little time familiarizing yourself with the appearance, range,
and habits of snakes, and you won't be so paranoid. Every snake I saw on
Barkley the other day was a common watersnake. Non-poisonous and fairly
harmless.

As my kids grew up, I cautioned them to give vipers a wide berth when we
came across rattlesnakes on wooded slopes of the Kaibab Plateau and water
moccasins around the shores of northern Mississippi ponds. But whenever we
encountered worm snakes, garter snakes, or corn snakes, we watched them,
handled them sometimes, and learned to treat them without fear, but with
respect, appreciation, and care.

Most of the snakes in the grass and woods around my house are garter snakes,
black racers, hognose and milk snakes. As I'm mowing, some days I'll find
one or two snakes or terrapins in the yard. I grab them up and release them
at the tree line so they won't get chopped up. I've been bitten a few times,
but those snakes' teeth, while sharp, are pretty short, and while they might
draw a tiny drop of blood if they get me just right, they're incapable of
doing any real harm. By and large, snakes are even beneficial to humans.
They don't even harbor bacteria or diseases that can infect warm-blooded
animals like us. The truth be told, I've bitten more snakes than have bitten
me.

I remember one day, Dave Robertson and I hiked back into the hills of the
Cumberland Plateau. It was 1971, and we packed pretty light -- a frying pan,
matches, a little cornmeal, bacon drippings, and salt, shelter half, and our
fishing poles. Alert for timber rattlers, plentiful on the sandstone
outcroppings, we dropped over the rim in late afternoon and down toward
Daddy's Creek. The air cooled noticeably as we came off the ridge -- a
relief on a dry, hot July afternoon.

Down below, in deep pools that cast sparkling light through the oaks, ash,
and hickories, Cumberland Muskie were said to have survived a hundred and
fifty years of fishing that slowly decimated their lowland Tennessee
cousins. An ancient, bearded mountain man, a local legend in the small
middle Tennessee town of Decherd where my daddy was reared, held the local
boys enthralled with stories of catamounts in the cane breaks, black bears
in the hills, and fish as big as tree trunks that prowled the creeks feeding
the Tennessee River. He was undoubtedly describing muskellunge.

The Cumberland strain of muskellunge, by the way, is thriving today, and
what I assume are other strains imported from Kentucky or other northern
states or cross breeds are making strong comebacks in the Tennessee and
Cumberland watersheds.

We didn't expect to see any of them that day; however, bream and catfish
were plentiful in Daddy's Creek, and we hoped to put several them on the
supper menu. As the valley floor flattened out and we emerged from the
forest into the brush and willows lining the creek, sunshine still bathed
boulders lining the eastern bank. As we hopped from one stone to the next
making our way along the waters edge, we spied several copperheads curled in
pockets among the rocks.

Dave and I plucked tiny grasshoppers off tufts of grass along the streambed
to bait our hooks. Unfortunately, we'd let the afternoon get away from us
while we tramped the woods, and the few bream we caught as shadows
lengthened and swallowed the creek banks were going to provide pretty slim
pickings. We had to cut our fishing short if we were to find a decent patch
to stretch our shelter and build a fire. Even augmented with dandilion
greens and blackberries, the pitiful little bluegills on our willow stringer
didn't promise to do more than take the raw edge off our appetites.

Fortunately, copperheads were still soaking up heat from the streamside
boulders. They were still easy to find, simple to catch, and turned out to
be a lot easier to skin and clean that most varmints. We just used a forked
stick to pin one down, and lopped off its head with a sheath knife. For some
reason that escapes me now, I rolled a big rock over and put the head
underneath.

Around campfires, a popular pasttime among boys was to regale each other
with stories about people dying in interesting ways. Remember that? Each boy
taking turns spinning ever more fantastical and scary tales that brought
laughter, but also cautios glances into the menacing darkness that might hid
the escaped convict with a hook in place of his hand.

One tale that must have impressed me mightily involved an orphan boy who,
upon growing into manhood, put on his father's workboots to go out and work
the family farm. He got pricked by the fangs of the long-dead viper that had
killed his father years before. His leg swole up and he died before anyone
figured out what was wrong with him. The factual basis of that story was a
matter of some debate when I was eight year old, and although I knew better
by the time I started categorizing snakes as groceries, I reckon I buried
the copperheads' business end under a rock just to be on the safe side.

I skinned and gutted the snake and draping it over a branch while Dave
heated the skillet and readied the cornmeal batter. Hanging there, the
carcass continued to write and twist, muscles contracting as if it were
trying to escape and crawl off in search of its head and hide. Even when we
cut the meat into lengths, rolled it in cornmeal and dropped it in the
popping grease, it gave a few final spasms before resigning itself to its
fate as tablefare.

As you might imagine, copperhead tastes a lot like chicken. Or maybe a bit
more like frog. Imagine a two foot long chicken neck, cut into six-inch
pieces and fried into a golden crust, with little fried bream nuggets
ringing them in the pan, a side of boiled and then pan-friend greens and a
few handfuls of blackberries for desert, washed down with Daddy's Creek
water... not a bad way to cap off a carefree day back in the hills.

If I could have done anything different that day, it might have been to hike
a little faster, get to the creek a half hour earlier, and fish a bit
longer. Bigger bream would have been nice. Or maybe we should have harvested
a timber rattler or two up on the ridge before we hit the creek. A heap of
fried rattler is mighty good eating. They're a lot chunkier in the body,
with much more meat and a nicer taste to them than copperheads. If you have
to choose between the two, I recommend rattler every time.

Joe

funny look at the definition for wife


Common Name:
Wife

Species Name:
Blonde Life Sucker

Poisonous

KSNPC status is: Not Listed
Appearance

Many different sizes, hard to tell a part from female. Listen for high
pitched whine or nag sounds be emitted daily


Notes:

Our most common wife often confused with the normal female. Prefers
shopping and making "bills". Nasty disposition and will strike and bite
if harassed.

On Sat, 6 May 2006 01:28:11 -0500, "Joe Haubenreich"
swljoe-at-secretweaponlures-dot-com wrote:

What is it with you guys and snakes? Is Ophidiophobia contagious?

Fear of the unknown Joe, fear of the unknown. Where I grew up even
the area that was supposed to hold rattelers had very few of them. I
have seen plenty of garder snakes in the "wild" and one cousin had a
Pine snake as a pet but other than that I have never come across a
snake during any of my outdoor activities as a child or adult.

Thus said, I never had a reason to learn about the different varieties
in any part of the country. Without knowledge the safe path is to
avoid close contact. Kinda like a fella that has never handled a
firearm not doing so without some knowledge before hand. What you
don't know can hurt you. So far better to be safe than sorry.

BTW, I liked the story. Ever given any thought of writing for Boys
Life or other magizines for the younger set about your childhood
adventures?




Does a bass look like a sauger, crappie, or northern pike to you? No, of
course not. You learn to identify them and to treat each species
differently. You don't lip northern pike or walleye. You hold back when
setting the hook on crappie, while for bass you rare back and really cross
their eyes. You make a snide remark about "scaly cats" as you toss a grinnel
(or bowfin) back, but you hold up a big bluegill for others to see what a
fine fisherman you are. You string trout on a willow wand while letting the
shad go. And yet, every snake some folks see is a "water moccasin."

Just spend a little time familiarizing yourself with the appearance, range,
and habits of snakes, and you won't be so paranoid. Every snake I saw on
Barkley the other day was a common watersnake. Non-poisonous and fairly
harmless.

As my kids grew up, I cautioned them to give vipers a wide berth when we
came across rattlesnakes on wooded slopes of the Kaibab Plateau and water
moccasins around the shores of northern Mississippi ponds. But whenever we
encountered worm snakes, garter snakes, or corn snakes, we watched them,
handled them sometimes, and learned to treat them without fear, but with
respect, appreciation, and care.

Most of the snakes in the grass and woods around my house are garter snakes,
black racers, hognose and milk snakes. As I'm mowing, some days I'll find
one or two snakes or terrapins in the yard. I grab them up and release them
at the tree line so they won't get chopped up. I've been bitten a few times,
but those snakes' teeth, while sharp, are pretty short, and while they might
draw a tiny drop of blood if they get me just right, they're incapable of
doing any real harm. By and large, snakes are even beneficial to humans.
They don't even harbor bacteria or diseases that can infect warm-blooded
animals like us. The truth be told, I've bitten more snakes than have bitten
me.

I remember one day, Dave Robertson and I hiked back into the hills of the
Cumberland Plateau. It was 1971, and we packed pretty light -- a frying pan,
matches, a little cornmeal, bacon drippings, and salt, shelter half, and our
fishing poles. Alert for timber rattlers, plentiful on the sandstone
outcroppings, we dropped over the rim in late afternoon and down toward
Daddy's Creek. The air cooled noticeably as we came off the ridge -- a
relief on a dry, hot July afternoon.

Down below, in deep pools that cast sparkling light through the oaks, ash,
and hickories, Cumberland Muskie were said to have survived a hundred and
fifty years of fishing that slowly decimated their lowland Tennessee
cousins. An ancient, bearded mountain man, a local legend in the small
middle Tennessee town of Decherd where my daddy was reared, held the local
boys enthralled with stories of catamounts in the cane breaks, black bears
in the hills, and fish as big as tree trunks that prowled the creeks feeding
the Tennessee River. He was undoubtedly describing muskellunge.

The Cumberland strain of muskellunge, by the way, is thriving today, and
what I assume are other strains imported from Kentucky or other northern
states or cross breeds are making strong comebacks in the Tennessee and
Cumberland watersheds.

We didn't expect to see any of them that day; however, bream and catfish
were plentiful in Daddy's Creek, and we hoped to put several them on the
supper menu. As the valley floor flattened out and we emerged from the
forest into the brush and willows lining the creek, sunshine still bathed
boulders lining the eastern bank. As we hopped from one stone to the next
making our way along the waters edge, we spied several copperheads curled in
pockets among the rocks.

Dave and I plucked tiny grasshoppers off tufts of grass along the streambed
to bait our hooks. Unfortunately, we'd let the afternoon get away from us
while we tramped the woods, and the few bream we caught as shadows
lengthened and swallowed the creek banks were going to provide pretty slim
pickings. We had to cut our fishing short if we were to find a decent patch
to stretch our shelter and build a fire. Even augmented with dandilion
greens and blackberries, the pitiful little bluegills on our willow stringer
didn't promise to do more than take the raw edge off our appetites.

Fortunately, copperheads were still soaking up heat from the streamside
boulders. They were still easy to find, simple to catch, and turned out to
be a lot easier to skin and clean that most varmints. We just used a forked
stick to pin one down, and lopped off its head with a sheath knife. For some
reason that escapes me now, I rolled a big rock over and put the head
underneath.

Around campfires, a popular pasttime among boys was to regale each other
with stories about people dying in interesting ways. Remember that? Each boy
taking turns spinning ever more fantastical and scary tales that brought
laughter, but also cautios glances into the menacing darkness that might hid
the escaped convict with a hook in place of his hand.

One tale that must have impressed me mightily involved an orphan boy who,
upon growing into manhood, put on his father's workboots to go out and work
the family farm. He got pricked by the fangs of the long-dead viper that had
killed his father years before. His leg swole up and he died before anyone
figured out what was wrong with him. The factual basis of that story was a
matter of some debate when I was eight year old, and although I knew better
by the time I started categorizing snakes as groceries, I reckon I buried
the copperheads' business end under a rock just to be on the safe side.

I skinned and gutted the snake and draping it over a branch while Dave
heated the skillet and readied the cornmeal batter. Hanging there, the
carcass continued to write and twist, muscles contracting as if it were
trying to escape and crawl off in search of its head and hide. Even when we
cut the meat into lengths, rolled it in cornmeal and dropped it in the
popping grease, it gave a few final spasms before resigning itself to its
fate as tablefare.

As you might imagine, copperhead tastes a lot like chicken. Or maybe a bit
more like frog. Imagine a two foot long chicken neck, cut into six-inch
pieces and fried into a golden crust, with little fried bream nuggets
ringing them in the pan, a side of boiled and then pan-friend greens and a
few handfuls of blackberries for desert, washed down with Daddy's Creek
water... not a bad way to cap off a carefree day back in the hills.

If I could have done anything different that day, it might have been to hike
a little faster, get to the creek a half hour earlier, and fish a bit
longer. Bigger bream would have been nice. Or maybe we should have harvested
a timber rattler or two up on the ridge before we hit the creek. A heap of
fried rattler is mighty good eating. They're a lot chunkier in the body,
with much more meat and a nicer taste to them than copperheads. If you have
to choose between the two, I recommend rattler every time.

Joe


I've learned that I don't suffer from insanity, I enjoy it! (The hell with what my X-wife told me)

Remove the x for e-mail reply
www.outdoorfrontiers.com
www.SecretWeaponLures.com
A proud charter member of "PETAF", People for Eating Tasty Animals and Fish!!!

Joe Haubenreich wrote:
What is it with you guys and snakes? Is Ophidiophobia contagious?
excellent prose snipped

I know folks who will kill all snakes on sight and I think
that's a real shame. I taught the conservation and nature
merit badge classes at Boy Scout camp during the summers
when I was a kid. One of the requirements for the Reptile
Study badge was to watch a snake move from under a pane
of glass and describe the movement. So I had to have a
snake to teach the class. Mine was the only mouse free
cabin in the whole camp and my Mom never poked around in
my cabin lookin' for Playboy magazines and cigarettes like
some of the other staff Moms. ;-)

--
Ken Fortenberry

"Joe Haubenreich" swljoe-at-secretweaponlures-dot-com wrote in message
longer. Bigger bream would have been nice. Or maybe we should have
harvested
a timber rattler or two up on the ridge before we hit the creek. A heap of
fried rattler is mighty good eating. They're a lot chunkier in the body,

I'm glad you gave the ol' rattler his due. I've eaten a few mohaves and
other varieties of coont ail harvest here in the desert, but like I said,
"Rattler's ain't aggressive."


with much more meat and a nicer taste to them than copperheads. If you
have
to choose between the two, I recommend rattler every time.

Darn skippy. Rattlers are real good. When you started talking about
copperheads I was thinking that would be mighty skinny.



--
Bob La Londe - Webmaster
www.YumaBassMan.com

Tornament Director
www.YumaProAm.com



*** Posted via a free Usenet account from http://www.teranews.com ***