Becky's Snake Story

When I go trail running in the Boise Foothills, I play a game called, "Is It a Stick Or a Snake?"

A lot of times, it is a snake.

Not too long ago, I ran into one. It was coiled up, sunning itself in the middle of a trail. Luckily, it was resting in a spot where I could easily turn and continue in the opposite direction, which is not always the case on those singletracks. I couldn't tell whether it had a rattle or not, and I didn't stick around to find out.

I also jumped over a baby snake on another trail. It lifted its tiny head and hissed at me—kind of cute, right?

Occasionally, I run into water snakes on the Greenbelt that runs through our city.

One time on the Greenbelt, two women waved me down and warned me about a snake on the path ahead.

I nodded and ran off like, "No worries. I got this."

I mean, those water snakes are nothing compared to the could-be-a-rattler-could-be-a-bull snakes you run into in the Foothills.

Speaking of those kinds of snakes . . .

A few weeks ago, my husband, Dan, and I were hiking in the Foothills.

We were less than a mile away from the trailhead when I heard a strange scuffle behind me.

"Oh my gosh!" Dan gasped, followed by what sounded like someone tripping over a rock.

Those of you who are acquainted with my stoic husband, Dan, know that it is uncharacteristic for him to freak out or stumble around, both things being my M.O.

I turned around and realized Dan had just jumped over a snake.

"It fell onto the path from that shelf," he said pointed to the grassy area to the right of him.

"Holy—!" I hustled away quickly, kind of leaving Dan to fend for himself. Yeah, I'm THAT person.

We watched, from a safe distance, as the snake uncoiled and slid into the grass. We breathed a sigh of relief when we saw it didn't have a rattle.

A few hikers, a father, mother, and daughter, approached us on the trail.

"Whoa, was that a snake? Is it a rattle or a bull?" the man asked.

"Bull," Dan answered.

The hiker passed us and proceeded to pick up snake by the tail.

"Hey, take a picture!" he shouted to his wife

"Are you serious right now?" she said, rolling her eyes.

The snake did not appreciate the man's advances and started hissing and wriggling.

"You should probably leave nature alone," I muttered as Dan and I scooted away. "This ain't Man Vs. Wild."

"Yeah, bullsnakes can still bite, especially if they are not being respected by stupid people," Dan said.

"That's the type of guy who would take a wildlife selfie in Yellowstone and then wonder why he was gored by a bison."

The moral of this blog post (besides be kind to the animals) is if you are hiking or biking running in our beautiful foothills, try playing "Is It a Stick Or a Snake?"

You will not be disappointed.

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My Birthday Weekend: Or I'm 43 . . . Seriously?

Um  . . . I am 43 now. I barely remember turning 40. I must have turned 40 at some point, but I only know this because I wrote an entire series on it. Apparently, I also turned 41 and 42, considering that's how biology works. But now I am 43, and I don't look a day over 42 and a half if I say so myself.

"I don't feel like I'm in my forties, do you?" a friend of mine asked me the other day. "I feel like I'm still in my thirties."

"Yeah, me too," I said, then paused, "except my hips and lower back hurt occasionally, and I have this weird tennis elbow thing that sometimes radiates into my wrist that could be arthritis . . . or cancer. I should probably go to the doctor. Otherwise, I could totally be in my thirties."

When I was growing up, we used to joke that my grandmother didn't know her actual age because she had lied about it so many times.

I am starting to see the appeal. I quit having birthdays after age 35.

But . . . if I have to be in my forties, as the train barrels on into mid-forty territory with nothing to derail it, I am going to milk my birthday as long as I can.

Welcome to my birthday weekend.

Not only did my birthday fall on a Friday this year, but it was also National Donut Day.

And the weather just happened to be perfect on my birthday.

The reason? Because I said this:

"All I want to do is go on a wildflower hike that is not too high and scary."

And Mother Nature listened.

Early in the week, this present showed up on the dining room table.

"That is the largest birthday gift I've ever seen. What is in that box, Dan?" I asked my husband.

What was in the box was something I had been talking about as a possible Christmas gift for this year or next. I didn't expect to get it this week!

Every elementary music teacher needs one of these.

This birthday card has me written all over it. My family must have thought so because I received two of them, one from my dad and one from my sister-in-law. Fun fact: I have done this exact thing in grocery stores more than once.

So that's it. My birthday is over until next year when I turn 35 for the ninth time. Now I have to go ice my wrist after all this typing. #overfortyproblems

For the latest blog updates, visit and "like" Rebecca Turner-Duggan.