Why does this always happen to me?

The boys and I decided on an early morning hike, trying to get some fun in before the weather turned for the day. We decided to hit a little known trail, Lost Cove as something different, I read about cliffs and through this would be a spectacular view. It was a cool morning, hiking through large hedges of mountain laurel, no one else on the trail but us. I was able to leave the boys and relax because the sound of their arguing followed me on the mountain as I went in search of the cliff.

At the end of the out and back, I found the cliffs and they were as beautiful as I expected, we walked out on a rock and stood there peering over at Grandfather Mountain, amazed at God’s artistry. I took a few pictures, and wanted to take one for the magazine, so the boys started to move as I put my pen to paper and prepared to take a picture.

The silence was pierced by the sound of a rattlesnake along with the screaming of boys! I never expected a rattler to sound so large and so ominous in the still morning air! It is a sound I will never forget! A sound that really does make your blood run cold! My one son was scaling the rock, screaming trying to get to me, and on instinct I grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him over my back onto the ground behind me, the other screaming and running by the side. We ran back to the trail then just stood there wondering, “did that just happen!”

All three of us were pale, looking like we’d seen a ghost, the youngest in a mild case of shock. His face was white, his lips almost a slight tone of green but his eyes looked scary! His pupils were so dilated we said that he looked like alien boy with black eyes! We took a deep breath there for a minute before all saying at once, “let’s get the heck out of here!” The youngest held tight to my hand as we walked, the oldest non stop talking, like he was getting all the fear out of his system through his mouth. When he tried to point out the obvious, I tried to make him shut up.

“Mom, it was this big!” The snake went from the size of a dinner plate to the size of a boa constrictor, my youngest grip on my hand deathlike as Wolfgang started describing the fangs and rings on the snake. When I told him he was scaring his brother, he stated, “But he was right there between the two us, I mean right by the side of my head!” We’d gone from seeing him under a rock, to dodging the fangs of the snake in a true Tarzan fashion. Max didn’t say a thing, just walking faster, his eyes darting down on the trail. The situation gets worse, when the oldest points to a scrape on my youngest’s leg and says, “Is that a snake bite?” Now, Max looks like he’s ready to swoon processing the information that he could ACTUALLY have a snake bite on his leg. I stop them both and start with the oldest, “Will you PLEASE stop talking about the snake, and it is NOT a snakebite!”
“But it looks like two holes,” he says looking at Max’s leg, Max looks almost green now.

“Believe me, Max, if you’d gotten bitten by a snake – YOU’D KNOW. And Wolfgang, you mention the snake again and I’m going to bite you myself!” Both boys are now quiet as Wolfgang ponders what it would feel like for his mother to bite him and would it hurt more than a snake bite and do Mom’s have poison while Max just keeps looking at his leg, praying that it’s not a snake bite.

Wolf decides to change the subject in a MUCH MORE PLEASANT way, “Doesn’t it feel eerie in these woods, almost scary. Is that thunder I hear?” I’m waiting at this point for the youngest to just pass out and I’ll have to carry him the mile back to the car. We walk a little further, he looks back, “What? Did you hear that?” With a sign, I just keep walking.

Max stops, “I dropped the waterbottle.”
Wolf and I look at him, “Max, who cares. I’m not going back to get it,” I reply.
“Isn’t that littering?”
“Saving your life or worrying about a waterbottle, I’d choose saving your life,” I say and Max smiles.
The oldest stops and thinks for a second, “What if it was your phone?”
I ponder, would I let a snake keep my phone? “I could always get another phone, and snakes don’t make phone calls.”

This moves them to the age old game, what’s important enough to endure a snake bite, “What if it was a million dollars left by the snake, what a bout a trillion dollars, what if it was your Forsyth Woman pen?” I finally get the subject changed when I reply, “For the million bucks, I’d throw you at the snake, grab the money and you and then take you directly to the hospital.” They spend time on the walk back wondering if I’d really throw them at a snake.

Thunder. The youngest hates thunder. We’re sprinting back to the car as huge raindrops start to fall, didn’t make it dry but everyone is safe and sound in the car. Max spends the ride home tending to his scrapes with about 6 Bandaids, while Wolfgang talks about how big the snake was (we’re into pre historic sizes now and he was wrestling the snake as it tried to bite him.) \

I know things are going to be OK when I hear, “Mom, he won’t let me play his iTouch.”