MtnKingDave's post below brought back a flood of memories from my own trips to west Texas and i thought I'd share a few thoughts about that special place.
I think I'll write a book on Gray-banded kings, after all, I've found a whopping 7 of them (I know, that's hard to believe but its true). I could probably write a 500 page book about those snakes, and my 7 experiences with finding them, and the 243 experiences when none were found. Shoot, about 25% of the book could be dedicated to how I found one under a rock in the springtime. There's lots of ways to describe lifting a rock...you can lift it front to back, back to front, sideways, with a fork-lift, a car jack, a crane...or even hire 547 day laborers to lift the rock for you, describing in detail how each of them lifted the rock. And that's just the beginning, since once the rock is lifted you can describe how the snake was resting under the rock, either from straight on, sideways, above, or from the hawks point of view as it flies over and sees the snake on the ground, fully exposed because the rock has been lifted. The possibilities are endless. But my memories of Texas consist of more than just that rock....
I remember how much fun it was to road hunt with a spotlight, and how all the moths and other bugs would congregate around my spotlight, eventually flying into the truck, into my mouth, nose, ears, eyes and hair. I could describe the sensation of bugs flying into my mouth and how they tasted. Those were really fun times...yessir.
Or, I could write about how fun it was to cruise for 5 hours every night, seeing NOTHING. I mean, how much fun is THAT? Its absolutely amazing how far you can drive, how long you can drive, how many sodas you can drink, how many bathroom breaks you can take...and still find NOTHING in west Texas. Oh sure, there was the occasional night snake, the infrequent Emory's rat snake that would bite the hell out of you, and maybe even a, gasp!... GARTER SNAKE! Yessiree, those were the days.
I remember how back in the 80s the GOOD snakes were all protected by law. That included the Gray-banded kings. Of course, no one was catching those back then. The 500 snake hunters that were visible on the road every night were just there to "take pictures." No one collected anything! And they would tell you that if you talked to them on the road at night. "Nope, ain't seen nothin, man. I'm lookin for crickets." That's what they'd say, or something like it, but in the morning there were all these alterna popping out of bags in the campground. I guess everyone found them in the bathrooms and were just holding them for the ranger.
And what about the heat. It must have been about 150 degrees every day, but no one saw daylight because we all slept until dark. Road driving until 5AM makes you kinda sleepy during the day, but it was also hard to sleep since it was 150 degrees outside. Unless you stayed in a motel, that is. Motels were cool. They didn't have a TV or phone (especially in Comstock) but they did have air conditioning so you could sleep cool. The only problem was that you had to get up and go register again at 11AM, then wobble your way back to the room and colapse on your bed.
The exception to this rule was the motel in Sanderson. IT had a POOL. There was nothing like swimming in the pool before a long, grueling, boring, frustrating night looking at no snakes on the road, or anywhere else. I loved that pool. It was really old, like from the 1800s or something, but it held water and didn't seem to have any chlorine in it either. The water was clear and cold, unless there were too many little kids in the pool, then the water wasn't so clear, and took on a yellow tinge. Well, now that pool is a flower bed. How the heck am I supposed to swim in a FLOWER BED? The one thing that I could always count on in west Texas has now been turned into a FLOWER BED! I don't think swimming in a flower bed would be very refreshing.
Oh, and no memory of west Texas would be complete without mentioning Juan...uh, no...Carlos?...no, ...oh ya...FERNANDO the game warden. What a clown. He was very interested in herpers, and would pull us over just to talk and learn more about us. He may have been gathering information for a book or something, I don't know exactly. It was always a fun break from looking at NOTHING all night, and Fernando had a special charm all his own. He would walk up to the window and say this unique little thing that was all his own, "STATE GAME WARDEN. MAY I SEE YOUR DRIVERS LICENSE AND HUNTING LICENSE PLEASE?" He never deviated from that line. It was brilliant! Of course, I never had a hunting licnese, since I never saw any snakes, so I would give him my drivers license. Then he would ask for the hunting license again, and I would say "License? LICENSE? I DON'T NEED NO STINKING LICENSE!" and he would say, "But I saw you shining cuts, you were looking for snakes," as if confused by my behavior. And I would say, "I wasn't looking for snakes, I was looking for POPCORN." Well, that always sort of confused him and he would ask what I meant by looking for popcorn. Then I would say, "Popcorn? Are you nuts? I'm looking for bugs." He'd regroup for a moment and say "You just told me you were looking for popcorn, I heard you." and I would say "Listen pal, I have a tape recorder running right now and I assure you I did not say popcorn, and if you accuse me of looking for popcorn again, I'll sue you." He would always want me to replay the tape so he could hear it, but I was too smart for that, ya know...Hubbs wasn't born yeaterday...so I'd tell him, "I'm not going to turn off the recording just so you can be proven wrong. Its evidence." Usually by that time he would just go away, but always with the warning, "I will SEE YOU again." and I would say, "Who cares, I'll still be looking for popcorn," and then I would pop my ABBA CD into the player and blast the song, "Fernando," very loud so he could hear it. Boy, those were the days.
Well, just thinking about all those good times almost makes me want to go and do it again...ALMOST.
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