testosterone poisoning
Western Diamondback Rattlesnake - Lower Salt River, Arizona
When I moved to Arizona (in 1997), I read an interview with an emergency room doctor about rattlesnake bites. He referred to them as “testosterone poisoning” – most bites occur in young adult males who unsuccessfully attempt to pick up the snake. There was even the disturbing story of an inebriated gentleman who was laying on the ground and flicking his tongue at a snake. He came to the ER with a tongue so swollen they had to find an alternate airway.
I anticipated that rattlesnakes would be an imminent and pervasive threat during my time in Arizona. This could not have been further from the truth. Between 1997 and 2022, I saw…one. A baby Speckled rattlesnake so small that it had a single button for a rattle. This might not be unusual if I was homebound, but I am outdoors a lot. Hiking. Camping. Fishing. I even went out looking for snakes in the early morning hours, and in the evening with a headlamp. I began to think all the talk of snakes had been overblown.
Then, in the spring of 2023, I began seeing them with frequency. Big Diamondbacks. Suddenly my false sense of security was shattered. In my mind they were everywhere. I began walking differently, scanning ahead, and I kept a tighter “leash” on my dog. Cubby is afraid of almost everything, but I worried about him sticking his nose in the wrong bush, or stumbling across a snake on the trail before I saw it.
About a year later, I was with Cubby and my daughter at the Salt River, for a late afternoon fishing trip. As we made our way up a single-track trail through the trees along the riverbank, my daughter, who was leading the way, abruptly turned, bumping me out of the way in her hasty retreat.
“Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.”
No shouting. Just three quick, emphatic statements. Unusual language for her.
Laying across the trail was a large Diamondback rattlesnake. We surprised it as much as it surprised us.
It would not move.
I took my fishing pole, and gently prodded it with the tip until it made its way into the surrounding bushes and trees. It never rattled.
My daughter has not been back to the river since that incident. Cubby and I go frequently, but with a healthy sense of respect. You won’t find me flicking my tongue at a snake or trying to pick them up. I’ll stick with my fishing pole (if needed), a safe distance, and a healthy respect.