What's So Great About Hunting for Snakes at Night?
by Richard Lapidus on 02/16/15
Just to be clear, this is not the kind of hunting where any
creature gets hurt or killed. You are
armed with a snake hook and maybe a pair of grabbers. These are tools, not weapons, and they will
only be used on venomous snakes. The
others will be picked up with your hands.
All the conditions must be right. You have to pick a road that has little
traffic. The temperature must be warm
enough but not too hot. The less
moonlight shining down the better. In
the desert, humidity is good, and after a summer rain is best. An experienced snake hunter (field herper)
will generally know in advance what species are possible to find in the area.
Your tools are accessible and your flashlight is handy. The sun is going down. As you begin your drive, you calm yourself
down. The anticipation changes your
physiology, making you feel younger, making you forget all the little or big
hurts. In my case I forget about the
arthritis pain in my knees and fingers.
In Buz Lunsford's case, he forgets the cancer, forgets that he can
barely walk at times and becomes limber at the sighting of a snake.
A snake will reflect white in the headlights. You drive along and watch for the streak of
light, sometimes basking still in the road, sometimes coiled and sometimes on
the move.
Your mentality is improved.
You forget your troubles and concentrate only on the road. "What was that, Buz?" "Calm
down, Richard, it was just a twig." "Okay." You lean forward in your seat. You have done this hundreds of times over the
years. You know you can do this all
night and find nothing. But you also
know that it's possible to find a trophy rattlesnake, a rosy boa, a gila
monster, a (rear-fanged) lyre snake, common snakes with unusual patterns or
colors, the possibilities are endless.
That's why it's called hunting, not catching. You just never know. If you knew in advance that you would
definitely catch snakes, and knew what they would be, well that would certainly
remove most of the anticipation. If you
think about it, you may not go at all.
For me, the anticipation is crucial to the experience.
Suddenly you hit the brakes. "Did you see that,
Buz?" "Yeah, I saw it,"
Buz says as he jumps out of the car." You pull over and run back with the
flashlight to find that Buz has a Mojave Rattlesnake pinned with a hook. You shine the light and take Buz's flashlight
so he can use both hands to pick up the snake.
You both admire it, as it opens its mouth. Maybe you take a picture before walking this
snake well off the road and out of harms way.
Buz bends down and gives the snake a gentle toss in the soft sand and
you watch as it quickly moves away.
You get back in the car, wondering what you'll find next.
These days I get much joy out of catch and release. It causes me to look closer at even common
snakes. Last year I picked up a
leaf-nosed snake and examined it very carefully. I never noticed before that they appear to be
smiling. There is something amazing and
beautiful in all snakes. It is a
tremendous feeling knowing that this snake will have the chance to live freely
where it is meant to stay. The balance
of nature will not intentionally be tipped by me.