Night Hunting

A north Georgia rattlesnake den from 0200 to 0430

By: Daniel Duff

My mind was made up, I wanted to visit one of my den locations during the night to compare and contrast observations from visits during the daylight. All I needed to do was to convince a friend who previously joined me on day trips, to hike two miles beneath a three-quarter moon in search of rattlesnakes hidden in rocks. Enthusiastically he obliged so we packed flashlights, water, and cameras then left my house around midnight. Neither my friend nor I could have ever predicted just how wonderfully successful a random, ill planned trip to one of my den locations was to be this cloudy night.

            Silver moonlight cast a bright glow in the cloudy mountain sky. It is said that there are women so beautiful that a room is literally brightened upon her entrance, Artemis’ beauty must be unequaled if she can illuminate an entire forest through phantasmal fog. The wet gravel road glittered in dew and crunched beneath our feet as we made our way along its curves. To the summit side of the trail grew mountain ivy, which seemed to reach for us from within the shadows like hell born wraiths, only forestalled by the opulent gaze of our goddess. Bellow us on the valley side of the trail runs a watercourse rich in trout; it’s bubbling was a sound of comfort.

            One of the creatures we encountered, as we made our way down the road, was the slimy salamander Plethodon glutinosus; several had migrated up from the flood plain and were probably hunting on the trail. Chaz, my friend and cameraman, took several photos of the great salamander exodus. Occupied with the salamanders, the two of us nearly walked right into a giant spider web! The shiny strands stretched across the trail ready to capture unsuspecting bugs or two humans busily mucking with salamanders. I have no idea of the spider species that came so near to our heads, but it was ominous and remarkably beautiful.

            Several thoughts vexed me while walking the hour or so that it takes to travel to the den most notably the temperature; I could see rising in the periphery of my head lamp, like smoke from a chimney, my labored breath.  However, as we got further from the river and gained elevation, the air rapidly warmed; we were soon sweating profusely. I also sought comfort in knowing the stones of the den would still be warm. There was also the moon phase to consider. As I stated before, it was intensely bright and even through the veil of clouds, the hunters’ eye had her favor. I worried the snakes would be driven deep under cover to protect themselves from the talons of the owl, the gluttonous hog, and the hungry bear; all looking for an easy snack.

            Our safety was also of great concern this was the den from which the timber that so severely envenomated me in 2007 came from. Naturally, I could not help but imagine the consequences of a bite to either of us while isolated, and so far from help, the thought tormented me. Nevertheless, we pushed on our hearts racing in great anticipation.

            Finally, after trekking through toads, salamanders and dodging spider webs we arrived at the point where we cross into a thick mountain forest with trails torn by wild game; that in which we followed. Our headlamps illuminated for us gnarly tunnels, branches grabbed and snagged at our cloths causing us to alter our course several times. All effort was made to keep up a loud conversation to ward off any bear or hogs. We were in a “green hell”.

            No sooner had we broke free from the grips of the forest did we spot our first rattlesnake.  My friend Chaz called out “there’s one!”  Sure enough, stretched out on flat stone, was a tancient male timber rattlesnake Crotalus horridus. With much unreserved excitement, I went after him with hook in hand, securing him for pictures; all the while wary of his head.

            Once we let him go he immediately made a slithering dash for some rocky cover, and out of curiosity I followed him. When I scanned the stone pile my light fell upon three beautiful, black timbers coiled tightly together, their heads peering back at me, eyes shining red, and tongues flicking. Alas, they were too deep in their hole to remove and photograph safely.

            Walking about the rock face, we made sure to stay close and to communicate our intentions to lessen any chances of getting hurt. Certain places I refused to venture: places too thick to wander in the black of night. There was plenty of open rock to explore safely, and to our hearts content.

            My light scanned over each and every exposed rock and my eyes constantly adjusted to make sense of all the patterns as shadows played their trickery. Colors and shapes all too familiar caught my eye; a copperhead Agkistrodon c. mokasen sat contently in a small hole. With some effort I was able to pull out the gravid female northern copperhead, we only briefly examined her, and then replaced her back to gestate in peace.

            Copperheads were quite plentiful this night and made up the bulk of our find. I would creep extremely low, scanning with my light, and they seemed to materialize. This being only the second time I have seen this den under summer conditions, but I noticed, never before had I seen so many copperheads here. Finding them was really quite charming and very fun!

            A few large, lonely stones sat around like ancient monuments and were too heavy to move, so the rattling beneath them would remain as ghosts. These rock temples were a beautiful sight, and it was nice knowing the snakes had them as shelter from humans and wild game alike! To be surrounded by rattling, slithering serpents in their great city is a nightmare to some; however I felt a great deal privileged to be amongst them.

            After an hour of herping, it was time for a break we turned off all of our lights and let our eyes adjust to the natural light of moon and stars. The mountain adjacent to us, took on a dark and gruesome look like a black wave ready to smash down upon us at any moment. Lacey clouds unfurled like the icy breath of gods as they passed over the mountains and in front of the moon. Many brilliant celestial bodies were visible, and looked as though you could pluck them from the heavens like one would pick fruit.

            Chaz mistakenly set off the flash on the camera and with a strobe light effect; bats could be stopped in mid flight! We messed around for a minute or so watching them in their erratic but graceful flight, dodging, weaving, and eradicating mosquitoes. We had not previously noticed how near to our heads they were swooping, likely after the bugs that our lamps attracted.

            We resumed hunting after the break and it wasn’t long before we were alerted to the presence of another rattlesnake, buzzing under a rock. I felt confident that he could easily be scooped from his hiding spot with my hook, but he proved to be unwilling. Chaz was on the other side of the stone, and as soon as the snake made an appearance, he scooped him out into the open making this his first venomous capture. I was instantly awe struck by the beautiful yellow and tan rattlesnake. As I posed for pictures, which clearly display my excitement, Chaz warned me that the snake had struck at him, and to be careful.

            Two hours had passed while we hunted snakes in this magnificent place it was now four in the morning, the two of us were exhausted, and we still had an hour’s hike back to my truck. With aching bellies and bed weary eyes we decided to call it a night. When we came upon the river its icy mountain water seemed a little too inviting so we stopped and plunged our sweat- drenched heads into the water.