The road surface was one hundred twenty six degrees. That wasn’t too surprising, for although it was the already 3 weeks into October, it had been sunny all day and, after all, this was north central Florida.

What did surprise Mike Manfredi and me more than a little was the fact that a big, gravid, female Canebrake Rattlesnake, Crotalus horridus atricaudatus (today these are often referred to as Timber Rattlesnakes with the subspecies no longer being recognized), was quietly lying stretched on the blistering hot pavement…and that two people in a car parked on the opposite side of road were watching her intently.



As I stopped by the idling snake, I looked more closely at the folks in the parked car and saw that the driver had a handgun aimed at the big rattler. Mike and I spoke, informing them that we would remove the snake and proceeded, to their obvious dismay, to do just that. Mike stayed by the snake while I pulled the car from the road and took a snakehook and a large heavy-duty locking trashcan from the car. Laying the trashcan on its side directly in front of the snake, I gave her a gentle prod on the tail and grinned happily at the people in the car (who had now taken the gun from view and were staring at Mike and me in unfettered incredulity) as she moved slowly into the shady receptacle.

The can was upturned, lidded, and as we prepared to leave, the watchers inquired about the pending fate of the rattler. We explained that she would be photographed and then released on the forest property that surrounded us. I thanked the driver for not shooting the snake and was told he, not wanting to put a hole in the pavement, would have shot her had she moved onto the shoulder.

Lucky snake. Lucky us.