Here's another handful of reptile-related anecdotes. It's fun to revisit these stories, and interesting to note that they're all relatively fresh in my memory, despite the fact that the most recent of them probably occurred when I was only 13 or 14. It's also interesting to note that I can remember specific details of events, but sometimes be years off when trying to recall when the events happened.

A case in point would be the conversation I had with Matt earlier today. He's busy transferring field recordings to digital format, and wondered if I remembered what year we had gone to a friend's wedding in Portland - a trip during which field recording were made. I had, and still have, no idea. I remember the trip well enough, but not what year it occurred.

We're not wired to remember arbitrary numbers on a calendar. We're wired for seasons and events.

That's my thinking, anyway.

Here's the reptile stories:

I can still clearly remember the first time I came across a California King Snake.For some reason, in my mind this snake had become the holy grail of local snakes – probably for no other reason than I hadn’t yet seen one in the wild. It was surprisingly easy to catch.I would soon learn why.At that time, we still depended on bicycles for transportation, so the journey to and from the hills involved a lot of pedaling. Of course, the journey back home was much easier, being that it was all downhill. It was while I was coasting down one of the more significant hills, with the King Snake in one of my hands (we still hadn’t figured out the whole snake bag thing) that I looked down and noticed that the snake was now half again as long as it had been when I caught it. I did a double-take, and probably had a comical look of surprise plastered on my face while doing so. It was on that second take that I noticed that the “new growth” was actually the back end of a Garter Snake being regurgitated by my motion-sick captive.

I thought it was the coolest thing ever.

I’m sure the King Snake would have disagreed with this.

That reminds me of another incident that occurred on the way home from a different excursion into the hills. Since this time the captive was a Northern Pacific Rattlesnake, we had gotten inventive and upgraded our transportation methods.

We put the snake in a paper grocery bag.

I was on a skateboard, being pulled by my friend. Of course, I hit a rock, and the bag went flying. I landed on my back and the bag landed on me, with the open end about a foot from my face. It was one of those moments when everything seemed to freeze. The world narrowed down to include nothing but my face and the flickering tongue of the Rattlesnake, a mere 12 inches away. It probably would have nailed me right on the lips if it had been a little warmer, or if I had moved the wrong body part. As it was, I moved the right body part, bringing my hands up and pressing the bag closed. We laughed it off and kept going.

From there, my train of thought takes me to the shores of the Mississippi, up in Minnesota. The river is relatively narrow there, but it was still a big river to me. Of course, I didn’t really care about the size of the river. What held my attention was the size of the snake slipping swiftly through the tall grass along the bank. I dove for it, and felt my hands close around scaly muscle. When I stood up, I had a five foot Bullsnake in my hands. I held it up to inspect it, and it promptly struck me right in the face, hanging onto my lower lip for a moment before letting go. I was spitting blood for about fifteen minutes after that, but I didn’t care. All of my Minnesotan relatives must have thought I was crazy.

It’s also interesting to note that the Bullsnake holds the record for the largest snake native to North America, surpassing the Indigo Snake. I recently read that somebody in Texas caught a ten footer. I guess it’s good that I didn’t catch a ten foot snake. That probably would have hurt more.