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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