The Sandhills Chronicles: Night of Nights Part 1

Have you ever found a place where you feel at home?  A place that seems to have infinite possibilities and mysteries around every corner?  The North Carolina Sandhills is just such a place for me.  I remember the first time I visited this hallowed ground in pursuit of reptiles and amphibians.  I was around 18 years old and fresh out of high school and basic training in the US Army.  My love affair with this region is also inextricably intertwined with the military.  This is because the Army still uses the area for training. 

Many of my trips to the land of sand and pine coincided with various training exercises at Fort Bragg while in the Army National Guard.  Before my Iraq Deployment in 2005, I spent the last few days I was home road cruising backroads for mole kings and pygmy rattlesnakes.  I planned my mid-tour leave around spring herping in the area.  I stop in the sandhills conveniently—or inconveniently if you’re my wife—every time we’re headed to the North Carolina coast.  Without fail, I always need to get gas at a spot where I’ve found corn snakes off Highway 220.  If I can make an excuse to drive East, I do it happily.

I found my first scarlet kingsnake, pygmy rattlesnake, southern hognose, and cottonmouth in the North Carolina Sandhills.  I’ve had the privilege to witness amphibians only a few have seen.  The rich diversity held within the Sandhills is awe-inspiring.  I learned about the art of road cruising from a longtime friend and mentor in all things viper, Zach Orr.  This sacred form of animal tracking requires you to drive slowly on backroads, usually at night, and watch for snakes or other herps crossing the roadways.  At certain times of the year, you can find myriad species taking advantage of the cooler evenings and warm roads during the hottest months.

  When asked about a specific locality or spot I always dodge the question like an old-time fisherman guarding his honey hole.  Although I hope everyone gets to experience this wonderful region of extreme beauty and biodiversity, I truly hope many of you stay home.  It’s such a mixed feeling because I have no right to lay claim to it any more than anyone else.  I travel almost two hours from my home near Winston-Salem, North Carolina to those coveted game lands where pines outnumber oaks and sand replaces piedmont red mud.  I’ve earned my spots and hold them close to my chest, even if many of them are common knowledge now thanks to internet forums. 

In June of 2017, my good friend Thomas Lavine and I had one of those rare nights in the sandhills.  This was the type of night that kept me coming back year after year.  We found just about every species of tree frog in the region.  We even found many of the snake species that we were seeking.  As with all memorable adventures, this one started with excitement but was almost thwarted by catastrophe.   Calamity struck as I drove East to meet Thomas.  I was maybe thirty minutes from the designated meeting area and my trusty 2000 Nissan Altima off-road vehicle (sarcasm) began to slow down.  My foot pressed heavily on the gas pedal forcing it to the floorboard.  Still, I decelerated rapidly.  My engine sputtered to a dramatic stop as I coasted off the highway to the nearest exit.

My car jerked and gyrated while I transitioned off Highway 220 to the subsequent backroad at the end of the exit ramp.  I swore banjos were playing in the distance.  There were signs all around indicating I was in the pottery capital of the world.  I was just on the far side of Randolph County.  This wasn’t good.  I called my wife.  Then I called AAA to come get my downed vehicle.  There were no signs of life on this exit, just long empty roads in both directions.  My predicament left me to wonder if the night could get any worse.  I had been daydreaming about this trip to the Sandhills for weeks.  So, I hoped that this setback wasn’t any indication of the night to come.  I called Thomas and he readily came to where my car was stranded. 

We watched as the tow truck hauled my car up the ramp with a cable to center it on the flatbed.  I gave the driver directions to my mechanic some ninety miles away, then I loaded my camera gear into Thomas’ vehicle.  Nothing could stop us.  Not even my dead vehicle.  It didn’t dawn on Thomas until a few miles into the trek that he’d also have to take me home after our adventure.  That dude is a saint!

As we passed the small town of Candor, NC, we saw an Eastern Box turtle attempting to cross the road.  Excitedly I rushed to my chelonian brother and moved him across the road in the direction he was headed.  An hour later the road transitioned from hardball to sandy bottom and we saw our first snake.  A juvenile corn snake.  Thomas and I took a few minutes to lay prone in the dirt to photograph this accommodating serpent.  I have always loved finding corn snakes, although they can be considered a common species at times, they always give me a great deal of joy.  I love the slow creep of road cruising for reptiles and amphibians.  With windows down and humid night air wafting into the vehicle, there is nothing quite like it.

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This is Part 1 of 4 of the Sandhills Chronicles

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Pygmy Rattlesnake

A version of this article was originally published in the Orianne Society’s Indigo Magazine Winter 2020 Issue

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Check out Part 2: