Not long ago, I was feeding my horses in an outside stall and a sheet of hay fell to the ground. I bent down to pick it up, and suddenly yellow jackets appeared from under the manger and started poking me on the left side of my face.
Let me tell you folks, that will wake you up right away! A yellow jacket even hit me near my left eye. When I looked in the mirror the next morning, with only my right eye available, it was not a pretty sight at all. The left side of my face was swollen, the left eye was closed and everything would stay that way for a couple of days.
What bit me were the little eastern yellow jackets, which are not much bigger than a house fly. But, despite their diminutive size, they sure can pack a punch. My wife, Ginny, walked up to a very well hidden nest on our deck two summers ago and she received multiple bites on her legs from the little critters, she had a reaction and was soon headed to the ER.
Since I spend a lot of time outdoors, getting stung from time to time (more times than I’d like to count) seems to be my lot in life, and so far, I’ve only been getting bitten.
The bees can only sting you once, and they soon die after the barbed stinger is ripped from their abdomen. But the rest, including hornets, wasps and bumblebees, none of which have barbed stingers, can continue to sting.
I will never forget when I was driving down a back road and a hornet flew through the open window of my truck, hit me under the chin, landed inside my shirt and started to sting. It didn’t take long for me to hit the brakes and rip my shirt off! The hornets are tough, because I hit them pretty hard when it was crawling under my shirt, but it still managed to fly away unscathed.
I’ll also never forget when I bent down to pull up some low grass near a step, and something came out of nowhere and landed directly on the back of my hand. This, of course, caused some rather instinctive reflexes on my part, including, I guess, an unmanly squeal. I’ve been to wild places where reflections (and screaming) aren’t always a bad thing.
But this creature turned out to be the largest toad I’ve ever seen (probably a female, because they tend to be larger than males) with a rather striking coloration of green and rusty brown. I let the toad go its way and I went mine. I like toads because they are actually very useful critters, even though this one gave me some (instinctive) memories of some previous snake-related encounters.
Snakes often get a bad rap, even though they are a very important ingredient in nature’s master plan of controlling a host of rodents and other harmful pests. There seem to be two types of people: those who are fascinated and love snakes and those who are absolutely uncomfortable anywhere around them. I am situated right in the middle of those two factions as I respect snakes, understand their importance and try to use a live and let live attitude. You will never see me handling or hugging a snake, and I give them a wide berth whenever possible.
Of course, being outdoors a lot, I have had my share of snake encounters, including a few surprises. I will never forget when I was a teenager working for a neighbor baling hay. He was stacking bales on a railcar as they came out of the packinghouse, and I had the surprise of my life when I grabbed a bale that had the front half of a snake sticking out of it. He clearly wasn’t happy because he was biting into the bundle he was holding and whipping around. Automatic reflexes can cause amazing feats of energy, because I’ve never thrown a hay bale this much before or since.
Then there was my only encounter with a rattlesnake in Michigan, which occurred more than five decades ago on a sunny afternoon in mid-September while squirrel hunting. I found a handy oak tree to sit on and reached down to remove a stick just as my butt was almost on the ground. The “stick” suddenly coiled up and began to buzz. I doubt I’ll ever be able to duplicate the physical feat of going from a nearly sitting position to being airborne, and I think I was just coming back for a landing when I reflexively shot the rattlesnake with my .410 shotgun. Just before I fired, I remember seeing the clear viper head, and then it disintegrated.
I’ve always felt guilty killing that little Massasauga rattlesnake (it was only about 18 inches long) because it was minding its own business and just letting me know that it didn’t appreciate me sitting on it while it sunbathed . .
Although not common in Michigan, Massasauga rattlesnakes do occasionally bite people. I have heard that the Michigan Massasauga rattlesnake’s venom is not as potent as other rattlesnakes, but this is clearly a misconception. The reason there are few fatalities associated with Massasauga bites is that the snake is typically a very timid and small viper that releases an amount of venom commensurate with its size. (Today, the Massasauga rattlesnake is protected in Michigan.)
I have been to wild places, including the Florida Everglades, where venomous snakes can be found more often. It can be an environment where it is advisable to know what is on the other side of a log before stepping over it. I guess that’s one of the many things I like about Michigan: the fact that you can usually wander through the brush without worrying too much about something poisonous ruining your day. Sure, there may be a very rare encounter with a Massasauga rattlesnake, but you don’t hear much about them. My one close encounter has certainly made me more aware in certain environments, but I don’t lose any sleep over it (unless a large toad comes out of nowhere and lands on the back of my hand, hello!).
There was also a time when I decided to teach my three young children how to locate and catch night crawlers in the dark with flashlights. I told the kids that I prefer to do it barefoot, which allows for a stealthier approach on the lawn to catch the worms before they can return to their holes. I was heading for an excellent night crawler and slowly lowering my foot, when a small snake began to wriggle underneath before I could put my full weight on the worm. Yes, folks, it was time for an unmanly scream, which had three little boys running fast enough to go into the house for shoes.
Another interesting snake encounter occurred while Ginny and I were visiting Mackinac Island. We both like to walk the forest trails away from the crowds, and motivating the ups and downs of the rolling terrain is a great way to stay in shape.
The forest was full of wild flowers, which we were admiring when we saw something quite unique in the undergrowth. A very large snake was in the process of swallowing a large toad, head forward, the toad’s legs still sticking out. I’ve seen plenty of eastern garter snakes in my day, but this one was for the record books because it was clearly on the stocky, long side. The snake was actually quite beautiful in color, for in the sunlight it had bright yellow jaws and its dorsal stripe, which had widened as the snake expanded its body to swallow its prey, was a pale blue. very distinctive and the normal dark side. the stripes had stretched into black and white dots.
Due to its large size and darker body coloration, I’m pretty sure this was a very old snake. Aside from getting close enough to take a photo, I let the snake eat its prey in peace. He had no urge to hold or hug him, and besides, he was in a rather vulnerable and swollen position. It is true that I was a little fascinated to witness this fact of nature, because I had never seen a snake swallow anything before. Ginny, on the other hand, was much more interested in seeing the wildflowers a little further down the trail, and doing so at a fairly brisk pace!
I respect and appreciate snakes as an important part of nature, but I must admit that I like to admire them from afar.
“Live and let live” will always be my policy in this regard. However, dealing with biting insects is another matter entirely.
Email freelance outdoor writer Tom Lounsbury at [email protected]