Nearly 2000 acres of scrub grass and cactus and little yellow wildflowers....
Texas hill country....windy, hot, dry.
I heard a rattle in the grass about five yards away and now I'm standing perfectly still.
I know what that sound is.
This place looks like my family's backyard in Montana. That sound is a rattlesnake.
I don't know whether to walk forward or backward, and I've wandered too far from the rest of the crew to yell.
My Dad beat a rattler to death with a rake in our garage once, and my high school boyfriend killed one with a golf club after it bit his hand on the 18th hole.
We used to carry snake-bite kits with us always-basically a razor blade we were told to make an "x" across the bite with–then a piece of plastic tubing to use as a tourniquet–and finally we were told to "suck out the poison."
Rattlesnakes move fast... A rattlesnake's strike is usually completed in less than half a second.
and they scare me.
FLDS trucks fly past on this little two lane road outside the ranch–would they stop if I tried to wave? How many of the FLDS children have been bitten here?
Is this their Zion–their Eden–home to an accursed snake?
This place is full of them.
Filed under: Susan Roesgen
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