TRIBUNE-REVIEW (Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania) 03 December 06 Running after rattlers (Bob Frye)
All those rules you've ever heard regarding what to do when you're in rattlesnake country? Bob Urban breaks them all the time.
That was evident when he stopped at an outcropping in the midst of a powerline running through Forbes State Forest. A dark crevice under some rocks screamed snake.
Urban, of Clarksburg in Indiana County, didn't retreat. Instead, he kneeled in front of the rock, put his face close to the opening, and took a peek. Nothing. He grabbed a mirror, used it to reflect light into the crevice, and looked closer. Still nothing. Finally, he took his snake pole -- a golf club that's had the head replaced with a homemade hook -- and slowly raked it through the opening.
That did it. There was a distinctive rattling -- like a big bee buzzing -- and, when Urban pulled the pole back out, he had a timber rattlesnake wrapped around the end.
It was a small one, about 18 inches long with just three rattles. That's far from the biggest Bob Urban's caught. He's captured timber rattlers up to 46 inches long. But every snake is a thrill, he'll tell you.
"The first time I ever caught a rattlesnake, it was such a rush it was unbelievable. It was like, 'OK, I've got this dangerous animal, what am I going to do with it?' " Urban said.
It's that very feeling that keeps Pennsylvania's rattlesnake hunters going into the woods year after year in search of an animal whose venom can cause serious pain, if not death.
"They're a neat creature. Even when you're looking for them, if you find one, the hair goes up on the back of your neck," said Frank Gondas Jr., a snake hunter from Fallen Timber in Cambria County.
The Fish and Boat Commission changed some of its snake hunting regulations this year to better protect the snakes. Hunters can keep just one a year and they must be 42 inches or longer, a size restriction that's meant to safeguard pregnant females.
But changing attitudes about snakes -- particularly among non-hunters -- is an ongoing challenge, said Chris Urban, chief of the natural diversity section for the Pennsylvania Fish and Boat Commission, the agency that has jurisdiction over the state's reptiles.
Timber rattlesnakes and copperheads -- Pennsylvania's other widespread poisonous snake -- are both docile, he said, unless disturbed. But to many people, spotting a snake is an opportunity to kill a snake.
"We see that a lot, wanton killing," Chris Urban said. "We have no way of knowing how many snakes are killed that way every year, but we think it could be fairly significant."
Pennsylvania's poisonous snakes have not been doing well over the last few decades. Encroaching development has gobbled up their habitat, Chris Urban said. When the snakes that stay behind come in contact with people, they often are killed, either because they wandered into a yard or tried to cross a road.
That's unfortunate, he said, because the snakes have their place in Pennsylvania.
"In general, they've been kind of misunderstood, but they are part of the ecosystem. They're a link to an older time and to wild places here in Pennsylvania," Chris Urban said.
Bob Urban is among those who find the snakes fascinating. Looking at some shed snake skins, some of them obviously from big snakes, on the powerline that day, he admitted that some people think he's crazy for looking for rattlers.
But he hopes they're long a part of Pennsylvania's wildlife scene.
"I've got a lot of respect for them," Bob Urban said. "There's nothing else that can make your heart go that fast when you're near one and can hear it, but can see it. That's when you stop and focus and think of your heart, 'Oh yeah, it's going now.' "
Safety lesson
People often fear rattlesnakes because of the threat of being bitten. However, there's never been a documented case of anyone dying from a rattlesnake bite in Pennsylvania, said Chris Urban, chief of the natural diversity section for the Pennsylvania Fish and Boat Commission.
Rattlesnakes can bite without injecting venom. Those are called "dry bites."
Make no mistake, though, even a bite that doesn't involve venom is nasty, said Bill Wheeler of York Springs, a second-generation snake-sacker and president of the Keystone Reptile Club, a group of snake hunters from across the commonwealth.
Wheeler's been bitten seven times. In the worst case, after enduring a wound that lasted two months, he was left with a finger that has a slight but permanent curl. It burns when it's cold and itches the rest of the time.
The finger, and the photos of it taken when it looked its worst, do serve one purpose, though. Wheeler uses the experience to educate people about snakes at sportsmen's clubs around the state.
"I wish I had my finger back. But if I can get one person who used to run to get a hoe or a gun every time they saw a snake, if I can get that one person to change his mind, I've done my job," Wheeler said.
Running after rattlers

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