Snakes on the Plains

We have had a few new neighbors show up recently and I have to say I have been less than hospitable.  Most recently, I ran over the new guy with a pickup  *twice*  then Jeff nailed him with shotgun blasts. Not very neighborly, right?  Well Jeff and I both considered it the appropriate response because the new-guy-on-the-block was not a neighbor we wanted.  He was sandy-colored, stuck his tongue out a lot (how rude!), and made an awful buzzing sound whenever we got close!  How would you like it if your neighbors treated you that way?

After that silly intro, you've likely deduced our new "neighbors" are in fact rattlesnakes.  The Prairie Rattlesnake is the only venomous snake in Montana and unfortunately it seems we are right along the main thoroughfare.

We saw our first snake of the season while on a pasture hike with my family on their visit a few weeks ago.  Since then, we've seen several more on the roads and two who were close enough to our house that we felt action needed to be taken.  Normally, if we see them in a field or somewhere away from the house we let them be.  Nice to have a little free rodent control.  Furthermore, they tend to act gentlemanly (for some reason, all rattlesnakes are referred to as male...)  and warn you with their rattle when you are about to get too close.  As if to say, "Helloooooooo!  I'm here!  Don't you dare step on me... OR ELSE!" or, "I don't want to bite you. I just want to mind my own business, but if you get close to me, I'll have to take measures into my own hands, erm, I mean... fangs!"  Rattlesnakes are like the crotchety, crazy old guy with a gun living as a recluse in a shack in the woods.  Enter his turf and BEWARE!

It's when the rattlesnakes enter our yard that I begin to take issue.  Rattlesnake bites in people are largely preventable.  We're generally smart enough to know what they are, where they may be lurking, and to leave them alone (or to get the gun!).  It's my dog I worry about the most.  Last year, Tom and Carol had a dog get bit by a snake.  The year before, Harvey was bit.  Thank goodness for the rattlesnake vaccine for dogs, but nevertheless it's not an experience I would like repeated.  Montana Fish, Wildlife, and Parks (FWP) even says on their website that it's OK to "deal with the problem" when they're in your own yard and pose a threat to the safety of your family and pets.  So there!  I'm justified in my killing!

The first sighting of the season was just a little south of Tom and Carol's house, on the trail to the creek and pastures.  As I said, we spotted him while on a walk with my family.  Actually, Harvey alerted us to his presence.  He was sniffing around and acting a bit keyed up, but not in the way he acts when he is on-scent with a bird.  He had his nose pretty close to what looked like a large gopher hole.  As we got a little closer, we could hear the snake rattling away.  We called Harvey off with some urgency, and he actually chose to listen to us! Approaching the hole, we saw that it was a snake and he was trying to warn us off.  Thanks to an excellent camera lens and zoom, my mom was able to get this great photo of the snake:


Then, last week, Jeff and I were walking Harvey on our road when we encountered another snake, right along the side of the road.  This one was fairly close to the house.  Again, we called off Harvey.  This time we went back for the shotgun.  I was glad Jeff was with me to help take care of it-- my shotgun skills leave much to be desired.

A few nights after that, I went out to take Harvey for another walk and didn't even make it down our driveway to get to the road before I heard the telltale rattle.  Right in our driveway this time! The nerve! I calmly called Harvey back and we loaded up into the pickup for our little stand-off with the snake.  I drove up to him and stared him down.  He stared me right back.  It was like the prelude to a shoot0out in an old Western movie! All at once I took my shot, which was flooring it in the pickup right over his sorry, squirmy little body! I heard him rattle like crazy and as the dust settled and I backed up to survey my work, I discovered he was not dead at all.  Just mad.  No one wants a mad rattlesnake on the loose!  I backed up and went at him again... Harvey in the passenger seat looked at me with panic, I'm sure.  This time I definitely injured him, but he was still down there, coiled and angry.

By now, I was more or less in a panic myself because I couldn't seem to kill the little bastard.  I am quite certain I looked right at him and blathered loudly, "Why don't you just DIE!?!"  Then I did what any sensible farm woman with marginal shotgun skills and a healthy fear of rattlesnakes would do, feminism be damned, I went and got my husband, who promptly dispatched of the snake in two quick shotgun blasts.  His head flew over the pasture fence and his body blew to smithereens.  Harvey let out a bark as the dust settled again and we went back into the house.  We'll show him!  Should've strung up the rest of his parts as warning to his brethren not to mess with this yard!

And I turned on the TV to watch a little mindless drivel and take my mind off the night's adventure and what was on the first channel? Snakes on a Plane! I just can't win! Now that I've completely convinced you all that I'm a sadist, at least when it comes to rattlesnakes in the yard, let it be known that new neighbors of the slithery, snaky variety are NOT WELCOME! Anyone of the human kind who would like to visit is welcome any time. ;)

Pickups and Trucks

It seems like every farmer who's been around a while has at least four or five pickups in the yard and outbuildings.  There's the pickup you drive and the back-up pickup that you don't drive very often but sometimes do.  Then there's the fuel pickup (equipped with large fuel tanks, this pickup can be driven out to a field and used to fuel a tractor or other large piece of machinery) and the water pickup (water is often hauled to wherever the farmer is working so it will be on hand in case of fire, basically used as if it were a firetruck), and usually a few others.  The pickups all vary in age and temperament but each usually serves a purpose of some sort.

Also, a "pickup" and a "truck" are two different beasts and one must make sure to mind their nomenclature!  If you tell a farmer you are going to take a truck into town, he will likely assume you are hauling grain in the semi!  A "truck" is technically a tractor-trailer/semi/big-rig, while a pickup is your standard everyday work-horse.

Though the distinction is lost on most Americans, and certainly I had never considered the difference before I started dating a farmer, there are other cultures who do discern between a "pickup" and a "truck." In high school I drove a Ford Ranger.  I liked it because it was something different than the Camrys and Tauruses most of my classmates drove, and my parents liked it because it was small and had no backseat...  In college, while on a study abroad in France, I explained to my host family that I drove a truck!  They looked at me in disbelief.  "Oh yes-- I drive it to school... to the store... visiting friends... all over!" It took several minutes of questioning before I realized that they had two different words for "pickup" and "truck" in French, and I was using the wrong one.  My host family was trying to envision me driving an 18-wheeler to school-- a far cry from my Ranger.  I had a few similar conversations early on with Jeff and his family.

Today we were introduced to an old classic truck that doesn't serve much purpose anymore besides the occasional parade appearance. As far as trucks or pickups go, this one is a gem. Today, Jeff got to drive and I rode along in a restored, fully operational 1928 International.  In it's old age, it was a bit cantankerous and unwilling to run (see how you feel when you're roused from a nap at 83 years old!), but our landlord gave him a little push from the John Deere tractor and we were off and rolling around the yard.  What a classic!  In it's day, it would have been filled with grain or other large loads. In image, it reminds me of the vehicle described in The Grapes of Wrath. We just took it for a small spin, under the caution "Don't take it farther than you would want to walk back!" Upon parking, I looked out at our modern Dodge Ram and doubted anyone will regard it the same way as this '28 when it's 83.

The last time this pickup was used for much was last summer in the parade celebrating the Rudyard centennial.

I love the headlights and the red trim.

Wooden steering wheel!

Wooden interior ceiling!

How come they don't label the pedals anymore?