POST-STAR (Glens Falls, New York) 12 February 08 Shedding the mythssss (Lisa Bramen)
Fifty years ago, killing a timber rattlesnake could earn you up to $5. Today, the same thing could cost you $200, as a Long Island man who was fined for shooting one near Lake George last October discovered.
Despite going from being loathed and hunted to being listed on the state's endangered species list in the last century, timber rattlesnakes are still misunderstood by many people, said Jon Furman, a Rutland amateur naturalist who wrote "Timber Rattlesnakes in Vermont and New York," about the history of rattlesnake bounty hunting in those states.
Other places offered bounties for rattlesnakes, but nowhere as extensively or for as long as Warren, Washington and Essex counties in New York and Rutland County in Vermont, where bounties lasted from the 1890s to the 1970s.
"There's an innate fear (of timber rattlesnakes)," Furman said. "That's lack of knowledge. Their venom is designed to kill small animals ... Yes, their bites can put you in the hospital and put you in pain, but they're not going to kill you."
People do occasionally die from timber rattlesnake bites, he said, but those cases are extremely rare and are often the result of an allergic reaction to the venom.
Rattlesnakes perform an important role in the food chain -- rodent control -- and, despite common perception, are not aggressive toward humans. They generally will bite only if provoked.
Still, fear of the snakes and, more importantly, fear of harming the local tourist economy, motivated the prolonged bounties in this area.
Furman grew up in rural New Jersey, where he was a serious trout fisherman and bird hunter by age 10. He was not a "snake geek," but his first sighting of a venomous snake - -- a copperhead he saw while out fishing -- thrilled him.
His family spent summers in Vermont, which is where he and his wife decided to make their home in the late 1960s. He started a welding business and had moderate success as a sculptor, but had to quit after a back injury a little more than a decade ago. He started writing articles on the outdoors for Vermont Life and other magazines and newspapers.
He had heard a lot about timber rattlesnakes in the area, but much of it seemed to be exaggeration. Around five years ago, he decided to set out to find out more about them. His search led him to former bounty hunters and, later, to Bill Brown, the retired Skidmore professor and timber rattlesnake expert.
Aside from information on the biology and history of timber rattlesnakes, written for the general population but with close attention to scientific accuracy, the book includes chapters on several well-known retired bounty hunters he interviewed.
"I write about the bounty hunters without prejudice," Furman said. "All these bounty hunters came from poverty. ... They didn't kill the snakes because they hated them."
One chapter, titled "The Walking Machine," focuses on Art Moore of Whitehall, whose hunting prowess and taste for mischief were legendary. He was known for occasionally clearing barrooms by letting live rattlesnakes onto a pool table. Moore died of cancer in 2003.
As fascinating as the bounty hunters are, the book is, in some ways, really about Bill Brown, Furman said.
Brown is responsible for much of what we know about timber rattlesnakes today, and his research helped get the snakes listed as endangered in 1983. Because Brown is a fierce advocate of the species with a reputation for gruffness, Furman initially found the idea of approaching him for interviews as intimidating as the rough-and-tumble bounty hunters.
"I thought he might be arrogant," Furman said. "He just opened up his arms to me right from the word 'go.'"
Furman accompanied Brown on many outings and now works as his research assistant, where he became valuable, in part, for his ability to spot the well-camouflaged animals.
"I came into the book with a totally neutral feeling about timber rattlesnakes," Furman said. "I came to respect them."
Among the things that Furman found interesting about the snakes was that they are migratory and spend the warmer months up to three miles away from their winter den. They live entirely on their stores of fat during the winter months, and can live up to 30 years. One of the reasons they are rebounding slowly is that they don't reach sexual maturity until they are about 9 years old. Once they reach maturity, they only have the relatively short summer season in which to mate.
Although there is still a black market in timber rattlesnakes, the biggest threat to them today is destruction of their habitat.
"They're a symbol of our vanishing wilderness," Furman said. "I love the way they blend into the environment. I think that they're beautiful creatures, and I admire the fact that they've held on besides centuries of persecution."
Shedding the mythssss

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