Me as a seaweed monster. This is the earliest photo of me posted over on my Flickr page, and I've reposted it here for L, who wrote about doing the same thing with duckweed. Of course I often emerge from the water covered in duckweed too, which just goes to show that I haven't changed much in the last 30 years.

Always be true to yourself, even if it means leaving a trail of mud and causing chronic washing machine problems. Tomorrow I'll be in the pond at work, scooping out duckweed and smelling of summer. Tonight I'm listening to Iva Bittova and typing madly away. Life sure is multifaceted.

It is wonderful to get back out on the trails with kids. I've been hiking with the older kids (mostly 12 year olds) this week, and they're so full of energy and talent, whether it manifests itself in scaling the most difficult route up the climbing wall blindfolded, creating t-shirts, telling stories, or in any number of other ways.

I've already rescued one Gopher snake from the asphalt - it stretched its three-foot length across the driveway to catch some early sun the other morning - and seen a beetle I'd never seen before (a Banded Alder Borer). I'm taking Willow and the three older kids with me every morning too, and they're all contributing to the week in their own unique ways. The girls mostly get by on their cuteness alone, while the boys have been showing their thoughtful and helpful sides. So far, so good.

I celebrated Solstice/Father's Day by taking Willow over to Vasona Park where, as luck would have it, the great charity duck race was happening. We got to watch 15,000 rubber ducks plunge into the creek and "race" to the finish line. Amazing. Afterwards, I went to a BBQ and, later on, a gig, getting home at around 2am - a fitting way to celebrate the longest day of the year. I like the idea of celebrating the length of the day, and the semi-annual u-turn it represents, by participating in a variety of pleasurable endeavors. The musical portion of the evening will be reported on my other blog when I feel like it.

When it comes to music, film, and books, I find myself compelled by that which I don't understand - obscure references, alien lyrical stance, impenetrable plot, or surreal visuals... I visualize these moments of bewilderment as doors that I have yet to open. It's okay if they remain closed too, because there's magic in the unknown.

Over the years, I've noticed that a more typical reaction, most often voiced by children, to this type of bewilderment is, "this is stupid!" Why is it that many people, when faced with something they don't understand, insist on calling the object of their befuddlement "stupid"? Why are we always looking for something or someone else to blame?

Hmmmm.

The one problem with shifting back to a day schedule is that there's less time to take care of all the little details that accumulate on an hourly basis for those of us who live "modern" lives. I'm talking about mundane things like washing dishes, cleaning house, and going places like the bank and post office. I appreciated having time to stay on top of all those things.

I could do most of the above after getting back from work in the evening, but even though I consider myself a night person, I always end up reading or watching a movie instead. Or catching up on my e-mail. Now that I don't actually have to stay awake at night, perhaps I should stop drinking coffee in the evenings. I'm drinking a cup right now, more out of habit than anything else. Oh, lets not forget the fact that I love the taste of a good cup of coffee. There is always that.

We've been setting up for summer camp all week. Willow and the other three kids have been coming along with me, and for the most part, being quite helpful. They all love being up there at camp. Hopefully they'll still love it after attending 9 straight weeks of camp this summer. We'll see. Camp begins on Monday.

Willow will be spending Wednesday nights with me for the summer (and beyond, I suppose, if I land a daytime gig in the Fall). Thursday nights too, since that's the sleepover night at camp. Sophie has already decreed that she's going to be going home instead of sleeping over. The boys will be sleeping on the field with the rest of us.

I'm still adjusting to this whole daytime thing - I think it messes with my internal clock a bit. Despite the fact that I've been getting more sleep this week, I feel tired (truth be told, the futon bed my apartment came furnished with isn't the most comfortable - I think the bunk I sleep in overnight at camp is better - maybe I should just live at camp). Once camp kicks in, I'll be fine. I can't wait to hit the trails with groups of kids. I haven't really done that since last summer.

Happy almost summer!

I often create "to do" lists on little scraps of paper. I find that I'm much more likely to remember to do things if I write them down. That is about as close as I get to any sort of organization around here. The posting of the following (ever changing, and always incomplete) list was inspired by a similar list that L posted on her site.

Hike every trail in South Bay parks and nature reserves.
Spend more time near the ocean.
Go whale watching with Willow
Cook
Create
Learn to play guitar
Draw
Wander
Meander
Get lost
Visit the desert
Lie on my back and watch the stars spin
Try new restaurants and coffee shops
Aimless roadtripping
Visit friends in faraway places
Learn how to properly plan for the future
Maybe some yoga
Experiment with sounds and record them
Photograph things
Dig in the dirt
Take Willow to new places
Take myself to new places
Watch the moon, listen to the wind
Write (maybe even a novel)
Make things for people
Read
Reread and rewatch favorite books and movies
Sit very still in a tree for an extended period of time
Watch sunsets and sunrises, moonsets and moonrises
Listen to music all the time
Perform for audiences
Explore the possibility of running regularly
Spend lots of time near campfires
Continue to obsess over music - frequent local record stores

Some of these things I do already. Some of them I constantly think of doing. Some I don't do often enough. Now that it's posted here, I'm that much closer to doing the things I haven't done yet.

I recently admitted that sometimes I don't take action because I find the possibilities more enticing than the potential realities. It's a kind of paralysis, really, or perhaps a desire to stay within my comfort bubble. It's also counterproductive, of course. I was thinking about this when I came across a trailer for a film called Mr. Nobody. A couple of lines in the trailer hit home. The first, spoken by a child (if I remember right), was "as long as you don't choose, everything remains possible." This is a distillation of how I feel at times. The last line, spoken by an incredibly aged man (I think) was "I'm afraid I haven't been alive enough."

Time to get cracking on the list. I'm already about 9 miles closer to completing item number one. I'm marking off the trails on a map. Action creates new possibilities. There's magic in that.

We've got clouds and a bit of a breeze here. The weather forecasters continue to call this kind of weather "bad", but those are just the empty words of people who earn their living by guessing.

I'm listening to the new Nurse With Wound triple cd and sipping hot coffee. Life is good.

It's after midnight, and the deer are wandering through camp while the bullfrogs grunt rhythmically from the pond.

Children of the night, what music they make!

As of late, I've not been planning enough activities for the weekends that Willow is with me, so this weekend I kicked myself into gear and we went to the zoo so Willow could see the lions (and everything else, but lions in particular). The lions were very obliging, and the lioness actually got up and walked over to inspect us. Next door, a crackling sound alerted me to the new electric fence encircling the tiger enclosure. I'm sure they put that sucker in pretty quickly after one of the tigers took objection to being teased and did something about it. That was a year and a half ago already. Have we really not been to the zoo since then?

They have a Capybara now. I've been fascinated by these humongous rodents since reading the Bill Peet book, Capyboppy, as a kid. Too bad there wasn't a way to get a picture of it without intervening bars.

Back at home, we had a slumber party with my friend Courtney from Portland and her son. Her son was really cool, and told Willow a series of bedtime stories, including a Coyote story. It was great to see a 14 year old and a 6 year old get along so well. It was great to be able to sit back and catch up with Courtney too - the second time in a week that we've seen each other, since I saw her in Portland last weekend. The time before that was 12 years ago. Lots of catching up to do. In the morning, they hit the road to continue their trip south, and Willow and I went to see a play called Tomato Plant Girl, which featured one of my co-workers. Willow laughed out loud many times. The main message of the play, about how mistreated people often mistreat others, was at least partially lost on her, but there was enough inspired silliness that it didn't matter.

Now, it's almost time to start my work week, and there's only one more week to go after this one. Then we transition over into summer camp.

Currently listening to: Mimir "s/t"

I feel more relaxed this week than I have in awhile. No doubt this is attributable to the road trip to Portland last weekend. Despite the fact that I've lived nearly all my life within a twenty or thirty mile radius of where I'm currently sitting and typing, travel is in my blood. I need to throw a bunch of stuff in a bag and go on walkabout, or drive-about, as the case usually turns out to be. I need to experience the subtle differences offered by other cities and other hills. I need to watch the landscape flashing by as I drain a cup of coffee from a nowhere roadside diner or as I crunch on whatever snacks occupy the space between the seats. It's nice to have like-minded friends along for the ride too. We're only as old and settled as we feel, and I'm increasingly finding that my true friends are a lot younger in spirit and a lot less "settled" or "stuck" than other people our age. It's the attitude and the creativity that keep us young.

I also am reminded that suburbia, and the suburban lifestyle, gives me the chills. I have nothing against the majority of the people who live in suburbia (I'm one of them, after all), but suburbia often feels like a cultural dead zone - sort of like those oceanic dead zones spreading out from river deltas all over the world. Suburbia is spreading out from the cities, but instead of taking any of that vital city culture along for the ride, it just takes the cookie-cutter shopping centers and rows of tract housing - and everybody knows those are poison. Maybe it's because most of the "edgy" people either live in the heart of things or far off the grid.

During my years of marriage, we seldom ever did that kind of thing. Hell, we never even had a honeymoon. Not anybody's fault, really - more due to timing and circumstances and all that. Still, I'm enjoying the freedom to hit the road now and then. I plan to do it more often now, if I can manage it.

I'm trying to find the right balance between responsibility and irresponsibility here. It's all about balance, after all.

Currently listening to: Tor Lundvall "Sleeping and Hiding" lp

I almost forgot to mention Willow's question for me after I got back from Portland: "Did you meet any people that spoke Portlandish?"

I had to tell her no. Outlandish, maybe, but Portlandish, no.

Portland really isn't that far away. When I found out that Amebix were playing there over Memorial Day weekend, I realized that I had three days during which I had no other responsibilities, so I jumped on the opportunity to get out of town for a few days. In the end, only my friend Devon also had the weekend free, so the two of us left early Saturday morning. I picked Devon up at his place in Emeryville and we hit I-5, stopping briefly in Weed for gas and some filling Mexican food, and then again in Grant's Pass to futilely search for a bookstore Devon remembered from a previous trip. In the end, we made in to Portland in slightly over 11 hours.

I had arranged to stay at my friend Howard's place, and stay there we did. It's funny how similar Devon and Howard's apartments are - lots of the same movies and toys and other detritus stacked on overburdened shelves. The two of them had never met, and hit it off pretty much instantly. Devon and I both met Howard's girlfriend, Miranda, for the first time. I like her - she makes multimedia art pieces, and while we were there was involved in disemboweling stuffed animals, turning them inside out, and re-sewing them. Cool. We managed to luck out and eat at some good restaurants too - a place called Paradox, at which a friend of Devon's worked as a cook, another vegetarian restaurant whose name escapes me, and the almighty Voodoo Donuts. A couple of Devon's friends live around the corner from the Paradox as well, so there were lots of new people for me to meet and talk to.

We also went a bit north to visit our mutual friend Courtney, who I hadn't seen in 12 years and Devon hadn't seen in even longer. It was nice to reconnect and wander around in the mild sunshine. I came away from Courtney's with a bit of kombucha floating in a nalgene bottle, which I have since transferred to a large glass container in my apartment. Time will tell if I can inspire it to thrive.

It was great to just hang out and reconnect without having to watch the time (other than to make sure we made it to Amebix in time, that is...). I found myself re-inspired by all of the creativity and life choices evident in the people we spent time with over the weekend. I felt comforted by the fact that many of them (especially Howard and Devon) are also obsessive collectors with apartments full of fascinating piles of books, dvds, cds, and other subcultural detritus.

It was nice wandering into Voodoo Donuts at around 2am and buying strange donuts (there were human-shaped ones pin-cushioned with strategically placed pretzels, donuts covered in sugar cereal, and many other mouth watering treats). It made me realize that in many ways, my life is no longer as free as it once was, but I'm okay with that. It makes moments of nocturnal donut-eating abandon all the more rewarding. We also wandered past the Doug Fir Lounge, where I'd performed as part of irr.app.(ext.) on a previous trip. It was interesting to note that across the street from the Doug Fir is a Mad Science franchise - a company that I still very occasionally work for.

The show itself was great. Howard came along after deciding not to go see Windy & Carl perform (The Melvins were also performing that night - choices, choices). He hadn't previously heard Amebix, but came out with a big smile on his face. For more in-depth report on the show, go here.

I always feel more alive when I'm traveling. I love anticipating whatever might be around the next corner, even if it's just another stretch of freeway. The weekend whipped by of course, and we hit the road on Monday afternoon. I made it back to my place in 10 hours and 15 minutes, without even speeding too excessively.

Thanks to the holiday, I came back home to an abbreviated work week. As I type, there's only one more night to go before my weekend begins. Last night, as I drove to work, I had one of those moments of sudden realization that I was about to run over an animal on the road leading to camp. It was too late to brake, so I took evasive action, steering so that the wheels would pass harmlessly by on either side of the hapless critter. I stopped and hopped out, hoping that I wouldn't find it crushed in my wake. Fortunately my evasive action had worked. The Kingsnake was still stretched out on the road. I picked it up, thinking for a moment that maybe our camp Kingsnake had escaped (I was just down the hill from our nature lab), and drove the rest of the way to camp with the snake in one hand and snake poop dripping between my fingers. It had musked me pretty good. In the light, I confirmed that it wasn't our snake. Later, I put it in the garden, away from the road.

Hopefully it will stick around and snack on the resident mice before they snack on our garden.

I just got back from the park with the girls. They brought along a couple of old Mickey and Minnie Mouse stuffed animals (I wish there was no such thing as "popular culture", but I am just one voice against many on that one, I fear), and spent most of their time on the playground wildly hurling them into the air and over the playground equipment. I approve.

Suddenly, Sophie stopped and exclaimed, "A Robin!" Sure enough, almost invisible in the heart of a nearby tree sat a mother Robin. "It's got a worm in it's mouth," Sophie pointed out. As we watched, the excited beaks of a cluster of baby Robins burst upward out of a perfectly camouflaged nest. The girls were entranced.

The spell was momentarily broken when another kid obliviously wandered too close, scaring the mother into flight. Afterward, taking care not to get too close, I put the girls on my shoulders so they could better see the nest. Nearby, the watchful mother hopped back and forth along the fence. I pointed her out to the girls, making sure that they were aware of the bond there.

I love those little moments.

Partial Huun-Huur-Tu

Partial Huun-Huur-Tu, originally uploaded by Corbie.

Sometimes the day presents me with a perfect moment. Sunset definitely provided that moment for me yesterday.

This photo was taken through the windshield on my drive to work. Now I have a little reminder of a perfect moment.

The sun has conspired with the wind to create a beautiful day. A couple of cds came in the mail earlier, and new music surrounds me as I type. I paid the multiple subject credential application fee yesterday, which was the final step I needed to take towards actually getting the credential.

Summer beckons, and I'm feeling lazy. A friend (or two) and I are taking a short road trip up to Portland in a little over a week. We're going to a gig and visiting friends. I've been feeling the need to hit the road lately, so when relatively inexpensive opportunities to do so appear, I'm taking them.

Onwards!

Currently listening to: Osso Exotico "V"

I've been lazily not posting as much this week. Maybe it's the weather. Maybe it's because of one of my indecipherable internal cycles. I don't really know for sure.

I had a relatively busy weekend, and I'm left with some soreness from dancing and tick bites. There was a time when I measure how much fun I'd had by how sore I was afterward. Maybe this is how my midlife crisis is going to manifest itself - I'll once again use physical discomfort as a litmus test for fun. Doesn't sound like a crisis to me though.

Some brief moments from the weekend:

Coming home from the Sleepytime Gorilla Museum show last night, looking out across the bay and marveling at how the moon had painted the water silver. The stillness of the scene formed a startling counterpoint to the freeway traffic.

This morning, opening the front door to find a Fence Lizard on the walkway. I love it when I see reptiles in the city.

Seeing a variety of friends. Always good.

My friend Devon celebrated his 40th birthday by playing a gig with his band at Gilman St. in Berkeley. I considered getting a babysitter for Willow before heading up to see Devon, but ended up deciding to take her along. After all, she knows Devon and going to the show meant kicking around Berkeley for awhile. It also meant that she got to meet my old friend Wayne (who took the photo above, as well as many others which he nicely shared with me). We made the obligatory record store stop (the evidence of which is on the bench beside me), had pizza (Willow ate a slice bigger than her head), went to the East Bay Vivarium (a reptile store I used to buy pets from, and which Willow was reluctant to leave), and finally wandered out to the Berkeley Marina. Out at the end of the pier, Willow was excited to see a fisherman pull a Stingray and a Sand Shark out of the water. She even asked if I would take her fishing sometime. I thought about it for a moment. Being a vegetarian, I'm reluctant to engage in activities that result in the deaths of animals, but then again, fishing is a lot more direct, and somehow more honest, than buying pre-killed, prepackaged, faceless meat from a grocery store. Maybe taking her fishing and going through the process of killing, gutting, cleaning, cooking, and eating a fish would be educational. Maybe I'd even eat some myself if we went through the process together (the only meat I've eaten in the last 20 years was fresh fish, cooked by a good friend - and that was only once, nearly a decade ago now). Later, I mentioned this to a friend who surfs in Santa Cruz, and he mentioned seeing people fishing there all the time and thinking what a great hobby it was - you got to do something you enjoyed, while at the same time putting food on the table. Food for thought, anyway (pun intended, as usual).

At the club, Willow was excited to get her very own club card (a punk membership card!), and it was cool to watch her signing her name on the back. She was also excited to see Devon and give him a present (I'd burned a cd for him, and Willow drew a cover for it). Willow was much less excited when the first band started. Despite earplugs, she shrank into herself in reaction to the volume.

We went down the street and had donuts instead. I had coffee with mine. Sometimes coffee and donuts just hits the spot.

Afterward, we met up with Greg at our usual coffee shop. Wayne and Greg hadn't seen each other in nearly 15 years, so it was fun to meet up and hang out.

One of these days I'll see Devon's band. They've toured Africa, the Middle East, Australasia, and elsewhere, but I've still not managed to catch them here at home. Oh well. Of course, I kind of figured that Willow would have the reaction she did, and we had fun anyway, so I'll just chalk this up to a partially successful experiment.

It's almost May, and the skies are turning gray. It was sunny this morning when I hopped on the bus with Sophie, all of the other second graders, and a handful of other chaperons. I'm glad it worked out that I was able to go on this field trip, because I never would have heard the end of it if I'd just gone on Nathan's trip and not hers. This one was a bit closer to home too - a mere half hour away. The second graders, mostly instigated by Sophie, sang loud songs for most of that half hour, including some Christmas ones.

We ended up at a place called Filoli Gardens, which is basically an old English-style country mansion nestled in the hills of the San Francisco peninsula. The gardens are impressive, and we were led through them and out into the forest by a volunteer docent (lots of volunteers - there was one docent for every four kids, and one chaperon for every two kids). He knew his stuff, which is nice because I probably wouldn't have been able to keep my mouth shut if he hadn't. I even picked up a little info along the way myself.

Poor Sophie spent an inordinate amount of time sadly staring at the taxidermied fawn in the nature center, no doubt thinking of the injustice of it all. I tried to explain to her that sometimes animals die of natural causes, but she wasn't buying it. She had this idea that the animals were killed specifically so they could be stuffed and mounted in the museum.

For the most part though, the kids loved it, but before too long we were all back on the bus, headed southward.

Now I'm home, taking advantage of the lull in demands on my time. It won't last of course, but I'm a firm believer in taking a step back and just breathing when I have the chance.

Speaking of relaxing, I've been to a couple of gigs this week, and I've reviewed them on my other blog. Check it out.

Currently listening to: Helena Espvall & Masaki Batoh "s/t" cd

The Association for Environmental and Outdoor Education (AEOE) Statewide Spring Conference at Walker Creek Ranch in Petaluma has come and gone. People from all over the state (and even a few from Nevada) were there to participate in the workshops, network, relax, and recharge their batteries with enthusiasm and new ideas. Around 15 staff members from my school went. A bunch of us drove up in the school van, and others took their own vehicles. Several of us, including me, led workshops too, and I even managed to win second place in the photo contest, with a friend and coworker of mine coming in first.

The weekend flew by in a flurry of workshops, speakers, music, dancing, and beautiful surroundings. Grey Foxes were everywhere, and it seemed I saw one every time I walked up the road to our campsite. Overhead, the crisp, blue sky was full of Turkey Vultures, and the rolling, green hills were dotted with deer and interesting rock outcrops. The rock outcrops often supported little groups of people, sometimes with guitars and singing. The workshops were interesting. I went to one on job seeking, one on DIY car repairs, one on sage bundling, and one that taught us some new ways to teach the concept of energy to elementary school kids. This last one incorporated several fun games involving a creative re-imagining of Capture the Flag. The one I taught was about reptiles and how handle them and use them to teach natural science concepts. It went well, I think, with people giving me positive feedback afterwards. I definitely could have used more time though, since I have a lot to say on the subject.

There was music too, with bands playing in the so-called "Boogie Barn" or the dining hall each evening. There was a DJ on Saturday night too, and I found myself dancing until around 2am, hoping that the people climbing into the rafters weren't as inebriated as they looked.

Our staff did a skit for the campfire/talent show portion of the weekend, as did others. Ours was pretty tied in to the theme of the conference (Education Unplugged) while others took some liberties with their interpretations. One of them was almost dada-esque, perhaps taking the word "unplugged" to be synonymous with "unhinged" - it featured a guy in a giant, yellow chicken suit, a nearly nude fire spinner, a tap dancer, a guy with a Kermit the Frog puppet, a host of musicians, and other seemingly random players. I thought it was brilliant!

It was great to be able to be part of such a big assembly of dedicated naturalists and teachers, and wonderful to see old friends and meet new ones. I didn't get much sleep, of course, both because I stayed up way too late and because the sleeping bag I'd taken from the lost and found at work wasn't very warm. I really should buy a new sleeping bag.

It's almost hard to be back home now. I need to hang onto all of that inspiration and forge ahead in some way, but I find myself wishing that I could live on a commune with all of the people who show up to the AEOE conferences, and I'm looking forward to the Fall when my school hosts the Autumn Northern Conference. I'll probably be teaching in a classroom then, but I'll still definitely be involved in the conference.

We're in the middle of a mini-heatwave right now. The last couple of nights have been T-shirt weather, with attendant mosquitoes. Lots of campers have been complaining of bug bites and making matters worse by madly scratching them. As I slept in the camp office, an incessant buzzing invaded my dreams and I awakened to discover a duo of Carpenter Bees bouncing against the partially open window. It wasn't long before they made it into the room and zeroed in on the lone light bulb, bouncing off the makeshift paper lampshade and pinging off the glass bulb itself. Needless to say, they kept me awake for most of the rest of the night.

I can't turn off the light because it serves as a beacon for kids who wake up in the night and need help. Like I mentioned earlier, the help most often needed this week is with bug bites, although bloody noses seem to be a regular occurrence as well. Not to mention scrapes and homesickness.

I'm gearing up for the AEOE conference this weekend, at which I'll be leading a workshop on working with reptiles in outdoor education. It should be interesting. I'm going to focus in on differing philosophies relating to human interaction with wildlife, and it should make for some lively discussions.

I'm all set to apply for my teaching credential too. I just have to renew my CPR/first aid certificate. There's a way to do that online now!

I've also started dating again, sort of. I mentioned awhile back that I'd met a woman named Terilynn. We went on a few dates but she ended up breaking things off. I don't think it was because of anything I did or didn't do - more about things going on in her life. On our last date, she talked about needing freedom. I kind of know what she means, actually. I'm in a place now where I'd like to make a real connection with the right person, but at the same time I'm in no hurry to make it happen.

We're friends on Facebook now, and we interact virtually, bringing things full circle. We initially met online through one of those online dating sites. It wasn't until relatively recently that I would have even considered investigating online dating, but I got to thinking that it might be a good way to meet people I wouldn't ever meet otherwise. It's also a good way to see how people express themselves in writing, and of knowing in advance if you have enough in common with somebody to pursue things to the next level. That said, right now I'm just looking around and enjoying the possibilities. Spring is, after all, a time of possibilities.

Spring is also a good time to hit the trails and breathe in the scent of all the new growth. I love the way the air smells when the first warm weather hits.

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.