Ricky’s Ford Thunderbird smelled like death. The scent emanated from the trunk. When I walked to the passenger side, the aroma almost knocked me down. “What the heck is that stench,” I asked my high school best friend. He explained that he found a freshly dead Southern copperhead on the road, and wanted to keep it as a trophy. The skull would be used for a decorative mount; the skin for a hat band he proudly proclaimed. In his brilliance, Ricky decided to let the viper’s head decompose in a Tupperware container in the trunk of his car. The crudely tacked and salted Southern copperhead skin was rotting in that same trunk. “You’ve got to throw that thing away” I said. His stubborn confidence wouldn’t let him budge on his new treasures, despite their smell.
Thanks man! Yes I used to be way more cavalier, lol I still seek them out but now if I don’t have to handle them, I don’t. I actually went looking 2 nights ago but only found their slightly less toxic cousins, your favorite, the copperhead 😁
Thank you John. It was the first of many vipers and that one event set me on a path to seek them out specifically at times. I’ve got to get out your way and hike with you on your turf. Y’all have diamondbacks and I’ve yet to find one!
Easy to feel that promiscuous young teen energy and the now more mature respect for species threatened. Excellent writing.
Thanks man! Yes I used to be way more cavalier, lol I still seek them out but now if I don’t have to handle them, I don’t. I actually went looking 2 nights ago but only found their slightly less toxic cousins, your favorite, the copperhead 😁
Great story Stan!
Thank you John. It was the first of many vipers and that one event set me on a path to seek them out specifically at times. I’ve got to get out your way and hike with you on your turf. Y’all have diamondbacks and I’ve yet to find one!