The first couple days were normal days. People went canoeing,
swimming, read, and a few of us clipped back all the bushes and plants
that had grown up all over the small network of paths. There were even
a few blueberrying expeditions; blueberries grow on almost all the
islands out there. But then the first piece of excitement came along.
It was on a Wednesday. I was leaping along from rock to rock, heading
for Little David’s Isle (a small isle that is connected to the main one
when the water is low, and one that Dad built a bridge to at one point),
when I heard a low warning buzz. I snatched my foot back and kept my
eyes on the rattlesnake. Kate B., who comes with us sometimes, squeaked
in surprise from behind me and ran off to get Dad. Now all the
rattlesnakes up there at the Island are really slow, so I wasn’t really
afraid of getting bit, but I watched just to see where it went. We take
all rattlesnakes off the Island, not that it would do any good if they
felt like coming back, because rattlesnakes can swim.
The snake gave another buzz and slithered into a nearby pile of
tarps.
“Come on, hurry,” I muttered.
A glance behind me confirmed the fact that Dad was hurrying my way. I
quickly turned my head toward the tarps. Then Dad was there, and I
pointed out the spot where the rattlesnake was. Kate hurried up with a
bucket and a broom about three seconds later. Dad took the broom and
began prodding the tarps, then stopped.
“Somebody go get three shutters, quick,” said Dad.
We put up wooden shutters over the windows after the week is up to
protect the inside of the cabin. Otherwise a lot of the weather would
be inside when we came for the week. I ran off to get three.
When I got back lugging the heavy things, my sister Sarah had arrived,
as well as Grampa John. The snake had come partway out of the tarps,
hissing angrily at the crowd, and nowhere near the bucket Dad was
holding hopefully on its side.
“Here,” I said, trying to proffer the shutters but finding it difficult
to lift them.
Dad and Grampa set two of them up on each side and slightly in front of
the tarps. Dad started prodding the tarps again. The snake just looked
at him and the broom handle and kept rattling in an irritated fashion.
“Stupid snake won’t come out!” Dad said.
Just then the snake slithered out, tongue flickering, rattle still
buzzing loudly. Dad quickly set the other shutter behind him to cut off
access to the tarps. Then Dad tried to sweep the snake into the
bucket. The snake eluded him for a long time, dodging the broom but
being moved in the right direction until it finally had nowhere to but
the bucket. It reluctantly slid into the bucket. Dad jerked the bucket
upright and placed a cover on it.
“There!” he said in satisfaction. “Who’d like to come set him on the
other island?”
“I’ll go,” Kate said.
“Me too,” I said.
Sarah decided to go, and Grampa John, and Aunt Liz and Uncle Matthew
came too. The motorboat was a little crowded, but it wasn’t far.
We landed the motorboat with a small amount of difficulty on an island
further down the inlet. The water was a little low, but we dragged the
motor up and drifted to shore. I hauled the anchor up on the rocks and
dropped it in a crack. Dad took the bucket out carefully and walked a
little way into the bushes until he came the flat rock. He upended the
bucket and moved hastily back to where we were waiting a safe distance
away. The rattlesnake glared menacingly at us for a moment before
deciding we weren’t worth his--or her--time, and slithered sinuously off
into the underbrush. We all climbed back into the boat and set off.
The next day we caught another rattlesnake and two days later,
another. We were leaving the Island when we caught this one. It
delayed our trip a bit, but we got going again soon enough. Thankfully
these were seen, not almost stepped on.
“I swear, this gets easier with practice,” Dad said.
From that day to this we have called that “the rattlesnake year”. It
was the most exciting year at the Island that we’ve had yet. It was the
year I almost stepped on a rattlesnake.Go Home
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