Non-fiction / IZEE Growing Up In A Logging Camp - Chapter Six ~ "Rattle Snakes"

IZEE Growing Up In A Logging Camp - Chapter Six - “Rattle Snakes”

Our 1st summer in Izee had its share of adventure, projects, and mishaps. Robert and his little brother set about having fun. Climbing mountain cliffs, making rattlesnake belts, and exploring what was new and exciting. Rattlesnakes were always good for excitement. Robert showed me how to be very careful not to touch the mouth “Deadly fangs” area of a viper's head when pulling the skin off the serpant without causing it to tear or come apart.

“Its a two man job, Rusty! Here, you hold on to these vicegrips and I'll peal the body covering off.”

“O.K.,” I said dutyfully.

“If your can't keep your balance any better than that, you'll have to stand on the gripper. But don't step on the fangs. They'll go right through your boots and kill you!”

“O.K.,” I said again. “Can you lean on my shoulder for a little more waite?”

“I'll try, but I've gotta pull this skin back with two sets of pliers in both my hands.”

Finally, Robert had to put his foot on mine to hold the viper down. Forty five minutes and a numb foot later, the skin came off.

“We did it, Rusty. We skinned this rattlesnaske. Take off your belt,” Robert said.

“Why?” I wanted to know. I was busy hoppiung around on one foot.

“Your belt is the just right size, Rusty. This was a small rattler. You'll have the first rattlesnake belt in Izee.”

“O.K.,” I said reluctantly. “But it's got my cowboy buckle on it.” Then I fell down trying to hop on my sore foot while pulling the belt from my pants loops. “That skin looks ugly.” I protested.

“That's 'cause its still inside out. I'll turn it right as I put your belt inside. Then we gotta dry it in the sun. It might take a few days.”

I watched as my big brother struggled to reverse the slick skin over my cowboy belt. I didn't know then that I wouldn't be able to wear my prized belt again. That the shiney scales might come off if I did. Oh well, the belt was beautiful. After drying tightly around my belt, the rattlesnake original was hung on a nail in our bedroom wall. The smell never went away but we would learn to ignor that.

We spent the next half hour trying to wash the snake smell from our hands in hot water with Purex bleach.

When the snake belt was finally dry, hanging by my cowboy buckle against the wall, it provided hours of fun. Flies were attracted to the snakeskin. They became moving targets for rubber tipped darts fired skillfully via plastic pistols.
IZEE Growing Up In A Logging Camp - Chapter Six - “Rattle Snakes”