That is until a water moccasin decided to crash the show. In the first place, he was thirty feet above the creek. Didn't anyone tell him he's a water viper? On second thought, the so and so wouldn't have listened; typical of his species, he was aggressive. I have had them crawl into my boat plus come clear across the creek to pick a fight. Don't assume these guys won't attack; they will, and this one did, truck and all. It was his Waterloo, and the buzzards picked his bones. Getting snake bite is not romantic or poetic. I have helped too many people, mostly drunk, of course, with snake bites. While the ambulance is coming, I ask how they got bit. Almost to the person, the answer is, I was trying to catch it. Don't be that idiot; that's what Cottonmouths do for a living.

COTTONMOUTH

Up above the creek, past bluffs through the wood,

Is a one-lane, dead-end road high in the air.

Hardly any people, all chuckholes and rocks,

Just don't be in a hurry, and you'll get there.

Guide a four-wheel, look at thirty- foot drop,

Mesmerized by crystal clear water below.

Seconds later, two of us filled up the scene,

A cottonmouth decided to crash the show.

He's not a bit flustered at my big truck,

Unless it counts showing dental hygiene.

Scimitar needles, all pearly and white,

No doubt, this guy prepared to get mean.

Four feet away, snake reared a foot in the air,

Water moccasin with an attitude.

Had no urge to join that mad snake down there,

Felt in no way was my reluctance rude.

Out of spite, moccasin charges the truck,

I gunned it; 'twas a battle he's losing.

Tacoma versus viper just isn't fair,

He died in a war of his own choosing!