Fall Hiking -- Stick Snakes and Doing a Francie

I love fall hiking. The colors are amazing; the weather is unpredictable; and the number of two-legged critters are limited. On a 2-hour hike today on new trails, two thoughts occurred to me: 1) Stick Snakes, and 2) Doing a Francie.

Stick Snakes. These guys make me jump and yelp every time I hear and spot one, especially in the fall. They happen when someone hiking behind you happens to kick a stick along the trail just right, and it goes sailing under the fallen leaves to your side and in front of you.

Doing a Francie. I have a good friend named Francie. She is very conscientious about keeping the trails passable. She will pull fallen branches to the side of the trail out of habbit. With 30-60 mph winds the past couple days, the wooded trails are littered with branches and trees. Of course, I couldn't move the fallen trees, but as I hiked along, I'd slip my walking stick under the smaller fallen branches and fling them off trail. I dubbed it "Doing a Francie."

A Sad Snake Riddle

I've been working cleaning animals from our local oil spill. Since we must keep quiet around the animals so they don't get stressed, laughter (especially mine, which gets a wee bit loud sometimes) is not allowed. So it's been quiet, quiet, and serious.

Here is a sad riddle for you:

Question: When is a snake slimy?

Answer: When it is caught in an oil spill. (Because, as we all know, snake skin is normally really smooth and not slimy at all -- at least if you stroke it from head to ... er... end.)

WAIT A MINUTE! That wasn't clean humor, that was dirty humor.

(I promise when I can laugh out loud again, I'll start re-posting.)

Snake Tale, Part I

I used to be terrified of snakes. Then I learned to hold and pet them and call them "Fluffy."

Perhaps the funniest snake story I know of came from a pilot friend who lived in South Dakota. He says this really happened to him.

While overnight in Georgia, a bunch of his pilot buds and he decided to do some local night fishing in a swamp. they rented boats, took lanterns to draw the fish to them, as well as shotguns to protect themselves from alligators. One pilot didn't know how to swim, so decided to stick close to the shore, unlike his buddies who figured the fishing would be better further out.

Picture several rowboats, most with two men in each, scattered throughout the bay, the men quietly fishing in the dark. Think peaceful, calm, serene. Hear: BAM! as a single gunshot blast goes off. Everyone was silent, wondering, worrying. Then my friend heard a soft: "Help."

No alligator. No Deliverance. Seems that the guy in the boat close to shore was under a tree. From the said overhanging tree dropped a snake into the bottom of his rowboat. Being terrified of snakes, he shot it. Picture big hole in boat bottom.