M
Nomad
Posts: 392
Registered: 8-30-2002
Location: Laguna Niguel, CA.
Member Is Offline
Mood: looking for joy...
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Another Oldie
It was another hot May Day near Los Barilles and I had taken Porta Bote out to cool my heels and flip some plastics around for a little fish time,
albeit with little or no interest. I had hooked a couple triggers, but shook them loose back into the depths from where they resided, a couple purple
spotted puffers took my baits and I had a laugh and teased them out loud. Filled with water, they lolled on the surface unable to really do anything,
their tiny fins flapping wildly as their ballooned up bodies made it impossible for them to dive down again. Some self defense. I imagine they weren?t
amused as I poked them gently until finally they were able to waddle back to the bottom to continue with whatever little fishy pastimes they partake
in.
Looking up the coastline, I saw that I was totally alone, even the Pelicans that made hourly passes in bomber squadron formation had not passed
through in awhile. All had stopped to stand still and let time and life shuffle past. The breeze that usually caressed the palms was absent leaving
quiet stillness that was becoming unsettling. Always, there was some sort of activity happening, even if it was just a bothersome fly buzzing the
sweat on my brow, or a gull arguing over a tidbit on the shore. It took little to occupy my interest while on Baja time, and the absence of any
stimuli was deafening.
How odd, I was really bored. I dragged Porta up onto shore and the plans I had for wiping her and my gear down were tossed as I stood up and realized
I just didn?t want too. Brother, this was pathetic and I needed to make a move?but why? Maybe a nappy was the ticket and a couple hours without my
observations upon life would give it ample opportunity to snap out of whatever abyss it had fallen into.
I headed up to Grunt to pull out a lounge chair and while reaching inside, Life came alive with a snap. A Crackling, rattling noise. what was that?
Was it Grunt? My alarm clock muffled by piles of clothes? Thoughts flashed through my brain like an animators flip book until the right page came up.
Rattlesnake. Oh. Well now, this was great. I mean REALLY great. There was finally an event to pique interest. Fabulous, great stuff?now what.
I imagined the first step was to be still and locate the little pit viper. Not moving my feet a whit, I bent over in a fashion that I have never been
able to replicate since I was thirteen and peered somewhat backwards between my legs under the belly of Grunt. Nothing. The rattling had slowed to a
halfhearted vibration, and I guess the snake had already figured his moment of danger had passed. Not so, not so, my sneaky little friend, where are
you? I took my first step and tentatively placed my foot in front of Grunts front right tire; a second step brought both feet behind a considerable
rubber barrier that I felt was a formidable block to a hasty strike. Now?what? I had no doubts I could rid my camp of this visitor with a quick flip
of my fishing pole sending him airborne into the bushes, but did I want to? I glanced at my cooler. Inside was debris that at one time resembled food,
but now was floating in tepid water, probably growing appendages and some life form intelligence. I didn?t dare look in there for a meal, but here was
another option. Was it? I had listened to my Texan stepfather rave about the great rattlesnake roundups, the wonderful Chile and of course, the easy
tanning of skins for various cowboy apparel. My friend had walked around the Peninsula also munching on this serpent. I had never really considered
it, merely asked, like many others ?what does it taste like? of course, ?Tastes like chicken?. I never gave that response any credibility because no
matter WHAT the suspicious fare might be, it ALWAYS tastes like chicken.
I made up my mind that this intruder would be dinner and I would for once and all-time know what snake tastes like. Not a thing else going on anyway
so I reached for a jig stick that I had left in the rain gutter on Grunts roof, and started poking around. Realizing it was not in striking distance,
I backed away from Grunt and began a circle that brought me eventually to the other side. There it be, curled up against the inside of Grunts left
front tire. There I was, in front of Grunt looking right at it, but it had already lost interest in me, and didn?t even give me a worrisome flip of
it?s tail.
It did not look like food. It was dusty, lazy and probably had some foul little mouse in its bowels, half digested that I would have to deal with if
indeed I did make this fellow dinner. I studied it for some time. A long time, and then it was decided once and for all that this was my next meal.
I went over to my fire pit where I had left my machete newly sharpened the night before and picking it up with purpose, headed back to my dinner. The
snake, sensing a change in my manor lifted his head to look at me, his tongue darted wildly, tasting the air. Puffing up, he ran circles in his own
coils, and finally, his rattle was clear and sharp and it left no doubt that I had his fullest attention. I crept closer, while behind me, just inches
off the water, a bomber squadron made it?s patrol, a fly buzzed by my ear, and life was resuming in usual Baja fashion. I ignored all and studied my
dinner, he struck out once to show he meant business, but so did I, and I studied him some more while I thought about how I was going to do this.
Before I could make a move on this little reptile, I would need to get it out into the open. I took my jig stick once more and nudged him with the
tip. Lord he was peeed, but he showed no sign of moving anywhere, instead he circled in his coils, and drew his head back farther and occasionally
struck out at the annoying thing that kept poking at him. I had to get something a little more rigid because the whippy tip of my fishing rod just
wasn?t gonna move him. I returned with a shorter, but more rigid rod that looked like it would move the rattler, but boy, it was short. I tried to
remember the strike measure of a rattler, was it half it?s body length? 1 ? times? I was settled on being pretty sure it was half the body length, and
I guessed this specimen was about 3 feet long so, by my guestimations, he wasn?t so tough.
I reached under the bumper with my new rattlesnake poker and caught him just as he struck out at me once again, slipping it under him on his
backstroke, I flipped him out from Grunt with my own upstroke and he sailed right out from under there. He landed with a dusty solid sounding thump in
the sand and I guess he had enough of this flipping and flying routine and was making a break for it. He never recoiled, never looked back, never saw
the machete that came down and separated his thoughts from his slither.
I jumped back and almost turned myself inside out doing a little gross out dance, I was totally revolted and ready to throw up from the rush of
adrenaline that slammed through my senses. Settleing down I noticed seagulls already flocking ready to grab any scraps that may be left laying around.
How do they do that? Christ, I had only killed it a moment earlier and I sure wasn?t aware of any witnesses!
Thinking a little clearer, I kicked the head out of the way not wanting to step on it, and tossed some dirt over it and a rock to save those greedy
gulls from a poisonous lunch. I looked down at the disgusting dusty mess that was to be my next meal, still coiling and rolling, already buzzing with
flies and I was loosing interest pretty fast. Looking around, it seemed life was resuming in Baja, and maybe I should just go for a walk or something.
I headed back to the shore to wipe down Porta, maybe do a little shore fishing ?oh hell. I stomped back up to my victim and bent over to pick the
thing up. I had killed it, I was committed so I needed to clean it up. The flies were all over it, more, the thing stunk. I threw the snake in the
water and watched the lapping waves roll it around on little rocks. Gradually, the mud and blood were washed away and with it the dust and a bit of
the grossness. What I saw now was a pattern of color and texture that was just beautiful. The end where I had cut off its head showed clean flesh that
really did not look that bad I walked over to Porta, took out my filet knife and inserting it into the anus, or whatever snake orifices are called, I
made a slit right down the length of the belly. I had no intentions of grasping ANY part of those innards so I just made several cuts around the anus
so that the whole ?package? just sort of rolled out onto the sand. I didn?t even want to inspect what MIGHT have been in there, I just kicked it off
to the side waiting for the seagulls that were already circling to take away my care package. Getting back to the task at hand, I worked my finger
under the skin and grasping enough so that it would not tear, I pulled in one long hard stroke that left me with a naked snake and a pretty disgusting
smelly piece of skin clinging to my hands. I shook off a shiver of distaste and tossed the skin towards the innards.
Flinging the snake back into the water I moved down shore, and tossed myself into the water also. Rubbing sand all over to rid myself of snake
cooties, I got out and returned to my task. I had long since lost my ice and whatever seasonings I had were inside of my ice chest. I had intended to
restock soon, but one day leads to the next. Anyway, I had salt, a bit of pepper and a dozen packages of Taco Bell sauce. Not how I would like to
season a serpent, but good enough for the time. I cut that snake in two pieces and then split those in half. Little bones were a bother, but I ignored
them and carried on. Soon, I had a fire crackling in the sand down by the beach. I paused from my tasks to watch two gulls fighting over that skin
pulling it back and forth in a tug of war. I narrowed my eye?s in disgust when I recalled the smell of that snake and the sticky feel of its wet skin
on my hand. My respect for gulls dropped a few notches.
I had a long shish Kabob sword that I often used while camping that was much longer than regular sticks; it was around this that I wrapped my little
friend. As I held a piece over the flames, I watched the opalescence flesh turn white and firmer. Steam rose and as the flesh became lightly browned,
I began looking at this protein with a little more respect. Moments latter, I wrapped a paper plate around it and pulled it off the stick. There it
was. I had lost most of my gross factor and was now just faced with dinner. I had eaten many strange things in my life, some I care not to think about
when I was in Southeast Asia, and then there was the beating tuna heart that is eaten traditionally on the long rangers after catching a first
tuna?and then there is this. I squirted a gob of Taco Bell sauce on my plate, and in one move grasped a piece of snake, dragged it through that sauce
and whipped it into my mouth. I rolled it around in my mouth not wanting to commit to a chew, but eventually my teeth went to work and I just waited
for my taste buds to comprehend the mess in my mouth. It did not taste like chicken, it tasted like snake, a little greasy in an eel kind of way, not
terribly offensive, but certainly an acquired taste on it?s own merit. I imagine that in chili it would be delicious.
I finished my meal with lots of Taco Bell sauce and considered what I had done. Did I regret it? No, do it again? No, glad I did it? Yes, I think so.
I kept the rattles and they live in the bottom of my sewing kit and how they got there I don?t know. I will think of that meal every time I take
needle in hand to do some mundane mending. That?s probably how it should be, and about as often as a little snake should be remembered. Hugs, M
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Debra
Super Nomad
Posts: 2101
Registered: 10-31-2002
Location: Port Orchard Wa./Bahia de Los Angeles BC
Member Is Offline
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Great story M
I too have always wondered what snake really tastes like, I almost had my chance a couple of years ago when one of those pesky critters joined the
party at P's trailers one night, but, it was killed and flung into the desert before I even had a chance to see it!
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Sallysouth
Super Nomad
Posts: 1835
Registered: 10-9-2003
Location: Capo Beach
Member Is Offline
Mood: missing Baja...
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Holy snakes!
What a great story, M! I know you are an "earth mama" and have read all your stories in the past. This one was a doozer, you woman, you!!!Thanks! Msal
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Skeet/Loreto
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 4709
Registered: 9-2-2003
Member Is Offline
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Great Story M!!
You have me so hungry that I called my friend in Sweetwater to send me up some Canned Rattlesnake!!
If we ever have another BBBB I think that is what I will bring for Goddies. Thanks again for a Good Story
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David K
Honored Nomad
Posts: 64490
Registered: 8-30-2002
Location: San Diego County
Member Is Offline
Mood: Have Baja Fever
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That's a gem of a story Michelle! I hope you start thinking of a book, you should write! Please keep sharing your great stories of adventures in Baja!
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Neal Johns
Super Nomad
Posts: 1687
Registered: 10-31-2002
Location: Lytle Creek, CA
Member Is Offline
Mood: In love!
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Good Dog! :lol:
The best story I have seen in a long time! 
My motto:
Never let a Dragon pass by without pulling its tail!
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Orie
Newbie
Posts: 6
Registered: 11-1-2002
Member Is Offline
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rattlesnake meat
I had the opertunity to taste rattlesnake down in Ramona CA.
This monster snake came accross the lawn, toward the patio.
My wife called out "theres a big snake out here. I immeadiatly went for the shot gun, blew off his head. Picked him up, found my skninning knife and
peeled off his skin,that now hangs on the wall here in Washington.
This snake was about 5' long, 4-5 in dia. I
removed the two fillets which made a meal for four of us. I did't tell our guests what the meat course was. they thought it exceelent dhicken.
That's the only I ate.
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capn.sharky
Senior Nomad
Posts: 686
Registered: 9-4-2003
Member Is Offline
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Taste like chicken
Michelle---I say if something tastes like chicken, then you should eat chicken. I don't like to eat anything that tastes like chicken but isn't
chicken. Maybe dog tastes like chicken but I ain't eating dog to find out. I have chomped down on Kangaroo tail and it was okay, but it did not
taste like chicken. Maybe I am just chicken myself.
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Sallysouth
Super Nomad
Posts: 1835
Registered: 10-9-2003
Location: Capo Beach
Member Is Offline
Mood: missing Baja...
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Whats next?
Common M, we are waiting for the next one!!!
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