Things that go bump in the night

    Shirley and I were at a ranger program one evening in Everglades National Park. During the Q & A session, an elderly gentleman asked, “What do I do if I’m walking down the trail and an alligator tries to eat me?”
   The ranger explained that wildlife needs to be treated with respect but, unless provoked, does not pose excessive risk. Many of us like hamburgers, he explained, but we don’t walk up to a cow and take a bite. There are about a million visitors to ENP every year and so far nobody has been eaten by an alligator. That is, gators normally don’t see us as food. Normally.
   Then the visitor went on to ask about pythons, rattlesnakes, water moccasins and other reptiles. All this time the ranger was trying to maintain a professional demeanor with calm, polite responses.
   “One last question. What if I am walking down the trail and a Florida panther tries to eat me?”
   “Sir,” said the ranger, “you will die a lucky man. I have been here ten years and have never seen a Florida panther.”

Gators are more likely to get into territorial disputes with each other

than some random tourist. Be careful on the golf course, though.

That water hazard could be somebody's home.

This rattlesnake must have eaten recently. He showed no interest in me

and Shirley didn't even need to kick him out of our way. Still, even expert

snake handlers must proceed with caution. One such expert was recently 

killed by a rattler. It's no joking matter. A rule I sometimes violate.

Several tourists stopped to admire this Florida banded water snake.

He never moved an inch. Perhaps he sensed they wouldn't eat him.

Most tourists didn't even notice this water moccasin,

 

But let a garter snake poke his head up on the boardwalk and the panic begins.

   At Natchez, Mississippi we met RVers from Alpena, MI who had never gone to the Everglades because they were concerned about a whole host of creepy, crawly critters. Like the old gentleman, they had images in their heads based on how the “swamp” is depicted on TV and in movies. Most images in their heads were just as realistic as the things they had seen Spiderman doing.
   Are there snakes in the Everglades? Oh, yes, there are. Huge Burmese pythons have gotten a lot of attention in recent years because, well, first because they are huge. And then they represent an invasive, non-native species that is devouring more than their fair share of raccoons, ‘possums, and marsh rabbits. Have even been known to tussle with small gators and deer. The python’s defensive strategy is to lie still to avoid detection and to strike only if threatened. Pythons like to hang out in the mangroves where it is impossible for a person to walk. Which also makes it impossible to subtract them faster than they can multiply. Pythons are not venomous--which does not mean it wouldn’t hurt to have an 18-foot snake latch onto one of your body parts. But he would then apologize by giving you a nice hug.
   There are 47 species of snakes in South Florida but only four are venomous: coral snake, water moccasin, pygmy rattlesnake, and diamondback rattlesnake. It is said that most snake bites are the result of mixing testosterone with alcohol. That is, victims tend to be audacious young men who have recently tossed back a few and are showing off for some nubile person of the feminine persuasion. Snakes don’t hide in the grass just waiting to ambush people out of malicious spite. Bites, even by venomous snakes, are almost always in self defense. It is said that some attorneys will take their case pro bono as a professional courtesy. (Any attorney in our immediate family should not take offense.)
   On one of our visits to the Everglades, Shirley and I heard that there was a large rattlesnake right on the Gumbo Limbo Trail. “Don’t worry, though, the rangers have it roped off.”
   This sparked our interest. How do you rope off a snake? So we went to have a look. Sure enough, there was a thick-bodied rattlesnake curled up in a patch of sunlight on the trail. And the trail was indeed blocked off with some yellow plastic tape--not to keep the snake in but to warn people to keep out. Fascinating. Several of us took the opportunity to gawk. Strictly out of scientific curiosity, you understand. The snake never moved even though one fellow, probably hopped up on alcohol and testosterone, approached somewhat closer than seemed wise.
   I tell people that I never worry about snakes when we are hiking because I have a woman who walks ahead of me to kick them off the trail. (She is quite modest about this.) Still, when we were at Montpelier, the home of President James Madison, I was focused on getting a photo of the mansion instead of where I was walking.

   “LeMoyne, you’re standing on a snake,” said Shirley. I stepped off it quite promptly. (Out of politeness, mind you, not because I was unduly alarmed.) The snake turned out to be just a harmless black racer. Shirley was under no obligation to come over and kick it out of my way. But the snake did look a little perturbed. You could see it in his eyes. Like many snakes, the racer’s normal defense is to remain motionless and undetected--which this one had done. When that fails, it races away at an amazing speed--which this one did.
   When Shirley and I are traveling, we try to keep in touch with friends and family back home to let them know where we are and how things are going. Our kids concluded years ago that we were probably up to some new and innovative form of foolishness yet again. They know because, when they were children, they had plenty of first-hand experience. So, as adults, they have been inoculated against unnecessary panic. Friends, on the other hand, are likely to fret about lions, and tigers, and bears. Oh, my!
   People often have ambivalent or contradictory attitudes towards bears especially. News reports about grizzly attacks always create lurid fascination. Network producers know this and eagerly present all the gory details--complete with a warning in advance not to watch if you are squeamish. Knowing, of course, that the “warning” guarantees you will not change stations.
   Here’s an angle you may not have considered. These days, it is more likely that a bear will be killed by a tourist than the other way around. That is, when a tourist does something stupid--such as leaving out food that might attract a bear or intentionally feeding a bear--the rangers may come and put the bear down. (That’s a euphemism for killing the bear.) Once a bear loses its natural fear of human contact, it tends to initiate more human contact in order to get another easy meal. If that meal is not immediately forthcoming, the bear may become insistent. Hence the signs in national parks: Feed a bear, kill a bear.
   Still, the potential danger of bear attacks is not to be taken lightly. That’s why we carry bear spray in grizzly country. On the one hand, many park visitors and their Facebook friends get a little nervous out in the wild. On the other hand, despite their nervousness, most visitors are also eager to actually see a bear. A few want to get as close as they possibly can. Even though they have cameras with digitally enhanced 60X zoom that would allow them to stay the recommended 100 yards away.
   On the road to Signal Mountain in the Tetons, there was a bear jam--traffic backed up when people stopped right in the road to get out and see two young bears feeding nearby. One old guy went skulking up, using all his finely honed Daniel Boone skulking skills.

    “What does that fool think he is doing?” Shirley said to the woman next to her.

   “That fool is my husband,” she said, “and you’re right--he is a fool.”

Fortunately, the bear ignored both of us even though only one of us

knew what "zoom" means.

Even notoriously ferocious grizzlies, unless surprised or with cubs, 

tend to just ignore people when browsing on fireweed or berries.

   I could recount similar episodes involving elk, moose, and bison. Which, by the way, result in far more injuries than bear attacks. We watched a photographer, who had one of those $3,000 super lenses, approach a bull bison to poke the lens in his face. A ranger was trying to herd all the tourists safely back into their vehicles. From his body language, I concluded that the guy with the long lens was saying “Ah, gee, do I really gotta?” The ranger’s body language was saying “Don’t make me come over there and deal with you!” A whole lot of arm waving on both their parts. The photographer finally moved towards his car. When the ranger was busy elsewhere, though, he went right back to the bison.
   You might want to Google “Bison gores tourist and tosses him into tree.” There’s some impressive video. People are inclined to treat bison as big, slow-moving, cow-like critters. They are not usually easy to provoke but some people try really, really hard to provoke them. We watched one young man lean out of a white pickup and smack a bull bison on the rump as it ambled down the road. Smacked him hard. Must have been another of those testosterone and alcohol things.

Bison act like they own the road. Most of the time they are right.

Still, a rump like that could be a tempting target for a young man.

   Because wildfires also make the news, friends bring up the subject. There is always a wildfire somewhere in the West. Usually, when friends ask if we are OK, the fires are a couple hundred miles or more from where we happen to be. Not always. We have been through the staging areas for firefighters, been forced to detour more than 100 miles to avoid the burn area and have often had the scenery and the highway obscured by smoke and haze. Far too many people are killed or had their property and livestock endangered by fires. This is a legitimate concern with a much higher probability than a grizzly attack. Depending on where you are, detouring around a fire zone can range from inconvenient to nearly impossible. And fatal. So, wildfires should be taken even more seriously than bears and snakes.

We took a long detour in Northern British Columbia to reach this

"clear" section of highway.

   At Chisos Basin in Big Bend National Park, way out in West Texas, the wind turned ferocious one afternoon. I watched as a utility pole in the campground swayed back and forth then snapped about a third of the way up. Within seconds the downed power lines set the dry brush aflame. Rangers and firefighters came just to monitor the fire because the boulder field made it impossible to get their equipment in there. Then they noticed that, if the wind shifted slightly, the only road into and, more importantly, out of the Basin could be blocked. So, they decided it might be a good idea to evacuate the campground. 

Note the broken utility pole in lower left. 

The only road out of Chisos Basin ran just a few yards from the fire.

    By the way, soon after leaving the park we were stopped at a Border Patrol checkpoint. The agent told us not to stop for anyone on the highway. Drug smugglers and other persons of evil intent pose a higher risk than snakes or bears or wildfires.

   When we were in the Tetons, the family across from us in Gros Ventre Campground put out their morning fire and left for the day. Later, when the wind kicked up, so did their fire. We went over and put a couple gallons of water on it and spread out the ashes.
   Most wildfires are caused by human carelessness like this. A few by deliberate arson. Sometimes deliberate but not arson. We had reservations at Crane Flats Campground in Yosemite National Park. The day before our scheduled arrival, Shirley received a text message: Reservations cancelled. A controlled burn had been set by park staff to remove dry undergrowth and prevent wildfires. The controlled fire got a little out of control. Crane Flats Campground burned down. Our camping fee was cheerfully refunded. 
   Sometimes I am inclined to think that the cell phone is the most dangerous thing most visitors will deal with in the national parks. Every year there is someone who steps over a retaining wall to get a slightly better selfie at the very edge of the canyon rim. Or he climbs out to the brink of a waterfall where the rocks are obviously slippery. Or she is so distracted that she walks right into a geothermal area even though there are signs saying don’t do that.

Note the Danger Keep Out sign at Mammoth Hot Springs.

Every year tourists are scalded in Yellowstone because they

ignore warnings. 

   Shirley and I visited our friends Rick and Sharyn in Philadelphia. Their adult daughter, who is into outdoor fitness activities, asked if we had hiked the Appalachian Trail. I told her that we had not done the whole thing but sizeable bits and pieces over the years. She wanted to know if we were ever concerned about muggers or guys in Hannibal Lecter masks carrying chainsaws.
   Not much, I explained. Muggers don’t seem ambitious enough to hike and climb several miles to the AT when potential victims are far more numerous on any city street in the country. Even in The City of Brotherly Love, you might have heard, shootings, muggings and other forms of assault are what civilized people used to call totally out of control. Besides, if you robbed a hiker, what would you get? A bag of granola? Maybe a pouch of freeze-dried beef stroganoff?
   Like most people, she was probably comfortable with the familiar even when, objectively speaking, the familiar represents a far higher risk. Often our opinions are based on common misconceptions. On the one hand, there is a romantic notion that a night in the forest is peaceful and restores the soul--sitting around the campfire, singing Kumbaya, gazing at the glorious Milky Way in the dark, sacred night. At the same time, there are spooky, unidentifiable noises out there that are the basis for campfire stories to frighten small children and impressionable city folks. 

From ghoulies and ghosties, 

And long-leggedy beasties, 

And things that go bump in the night,

Good Lord, deliver us!

   Like the old gentleman in the Everglades, some people are constantly on the alert for long-leggedy beasties. They may know what parts of Philadelphia to avoid after dark but they aren’t quite sure how they would deal with a Florida panther. But most of us eventually discover that, with a little common sense, it is probably OK to go for a little walk in the park.