On Snake Mountain

Bob Cammarata

As a wildlife photographer, Bob has become a popular contributor to "Tales of Relentless Pursuit." It is a matter of pure coincidence that this amazing snake adventure is being presented so soon after Nancy Hovey's story of how she overcame her snake phobia!  Nancy, this story will certainly test your progress!

So get ready to increase your respect for the intrepid Mr. Cammarata, as you relive with him his day of extreme adventure on Snake Mountain!  The photographs are paralyzingly good!

If you have not had the opportunity to read Bob's previous posts, here are links to them:

"When Mother Nature Lends a Hand"

"Next Stop Oz"

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Michelle Alton

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If you ask any group of individuals to describe Paradise, you will likely end up getting varying responses. Some may fantasize about a leisurely stroll along a deserted tropical beach…with soft sand scrunching between tired toes as gentle ocean breezes caress the body and soul. Others may envision lounging pool-side at the Ramada at some exotic locale sipping Pina Coladas and snacking on Shrimp Cocktail while foregoing the concerns of the day. But surely, someone within the group in defining their interpretation of Paradise might mention The Garden of Eden…even though there was but one serpent there.

I call the place Snake Mountain and for good reason. Nestled in the heart of central Appalachia, it’s a foreboding place, desolate and wild, oft intimidating but I dare to consider it my own personal Paradise. This story chronicles one truly special day on the Mountain…a day which would surely have left Adam and Eve trembling in their fig leaves!

It was a warm, sunny July morning as I navigated the deserted road up toward the secluded summit of Snake Mountain where the timber rattlers call home. Locating and photographing poisonous timber rattlesnakes in their own environs represents obvious challenges. The chance of being bitten, while extremely remote,  certainly weighs heavily upon the mind but of greater concern is being able to safely navigate the treacherous, rocky terrain in which they thrive. The greatest challenge of all though is actually FINDING one…since the secretive timbers tend to spend most of their day underground or otherwise hidden from view.

My arrival time at the summit was around mid-morning and I began gearing up. High-top leather boots and a firm hiking staff would, as in previous trips, aid in navigating the rocky crags…hopefully without mishap. I’d chosen to travel light that day, with just one camera body with a 105 mm lens slung over my shoulder. Previous trips to the Mountain earlier that year and most of last year had proven uneventful so I felt hesitant to strap on my usual heavy back-pack full of gear for what would likely end up being nothing more than yet another wasted walk in the woods. But this was a new day and I set off down the trail toward one of my favorite haunts with renewed hope that today would somehow be different.

A short time later, I spotted my first rattlesnake near an old den site. This was really a great find since I hadn’t seen a rattler there in over three years. As the snake quickly uncoiled and bolted toward the entrance of the den, I hurried forward to try to get off a quick shot or two before it disappeared. In my haste, I spooked a second one which had been basking nearby and it too, quickly vanished from view. I carefully and meticulously tip-toed around the den to the other side and in doing so, nearly stepped on a third rattler. Measuring nearly four feet long, it was stretched out full-length on some rocks completely out in the open!

The sunning snake immediately reacted to my presence and flattened it’s body as if to appear even larger and more intimidating to this would-be intruder. A few tongue flicks tasted the air as the hefty rattler circled its thickened form into a defensive coil.
Now this was more like it…no wasted walk today!

From what I considered a safe distance, I was able to capture multiple frames of the energetic reptile before leaving it to go on it’s way. A short time later, I spotted a fourth rattler and realized that this was evolving into a truly special day.

My personal record of five sightings in one day occurred many years ago and it seemed apparent that I was well on my way toward shattering that long-standing record. While an extensive search of the area eventually yielded #5, my record breaker seemed an unattainable goal. With my confidence beginning to wane, I decided to search another area and hiked a long trail toward a rocky ridge I’d discovered the previous summer . Even though I’d never actually seen a rattlesnake there, the habitat contained all of the requisite “ingredients” so it certainly seemed worth a try.

Don't Tread on Me

My explorations in the new spot were rewarded early when I spotted a colorful copperhead snake tucked into a tight crevasse. It was oblivious to my presence and I was able to ease my camera in really close for a few intimate portraits. That copper was a great find and a bonus, but I was on a mission.  I left the copperhead to go about its business and set off in search of that elusive sixth rattlesnake.

Over an hour had passed and I again began to lose confidence. Exhaustion from the heat of the sun and the stress of scrambling around rocky cliffs all day was beginning to take its toll and it was becoming evermore difficult to stay focused. As my mind wandered further, I found myself finding photographic interest in the simplest of life forms that normally wouldn’t even warrant a second look. A weird looking clump of colorful moss caught my eye and I immediately began composing images in my mind’s eye.

“What could I do with this?” “Should I get low or shoot it from above?” “How would I light it?” I even ventured so far as to play with the moss with my hiking stick…feeling its texture.

It was about then that I realized that it had been a REALLY long day!
What made matters even worse was that I was so focused on that useless clump of moss that I failed to noticed that Rattler #6...the record breaker, was coiled and staring at me from five feet away!

It was a really big one too…definitely over four feet, maybe five. It was dark-phased and recently shed…a truly beautiful specimen! We seemed to react to each other at exactly the same instant and the large viper violently rattled its tail in defiance then quickly uncoiled and raced toward the sanctuary of a nearby boulder. I could still hear the big snake buzzing as it descended deeper and deeper into the bowels of Snake Mountain’s clandestine inner core. I was somewhat saddened at not having rewarded myself a single shot of so pristine a specimen but as I plotted my course back to the car, I felt satisfied in the knowledge that a record had fallen that day.

As I traversed the top of the ridge on my way back, a muffled, barely audible buzzing sound instinctively stopped me in my tracks. It was very faint and only lasted a fraction of a second. I was sure that I’d imagined it but I remained motionless as I visually scanned the surrounding area.

Right there in front of me, coiled on top of a huge boulder was another big timber rattlesnake. This was another “darkie”. It was the blackest one I’d ever seen!
And best of all, this newest discovery was completely unaware of my presence so it would be a prime photographic subject. But the handsome snake rested in a perilous position near the edge of a cliff…and since I was armed with only a 105 mm lens, I was much too far away.

I scanned the surrounding rocks to plot the least precarious course which might get me closer and to my amazement, I spotted another big snake ten feet to the left of the other one. (…since we’re still keeping score…that’s #7 and #8.)

In complete contrast, this other rattler sported the more traditional color pattern typical for the species. I momentarily abandoned my quest to get closer to “Ol’ Blackie” and realized that to effectively illustrate both color morphs, I had to somehow figure out a way to get both snakes in the same frame. …But how??

They were too far apart and the angle of perspective on my 105 mm was far too narrow. I couldn’t even back up for fear of falling off a 20 foot cliff to a certain death. Then, as if on cue, the lighter snake slowly uncoiled, crawled toward Blackie and re-coiled right next to it. This was a gift from Heaven! (…Hey, maybe this really WAS Eden?)
Now, it was simple to get both snakes in the same frame…and actually live to tell about it!

Rattlers Light and Dark Phase

…But it soon got even better!

A colorful copperhead snake obligingly emerged from a crack in the rocks directly behind the two timber rattlers and I was quick to recompose to include this newest member to join the party. I’d always known that rattlesnakes and copperheads coexist (They’ve even been known to den together in winter.) but now I have photographic proof!

Pit Vipers a"Trois

I remained with the trio for nearly an hour observing and documenting their behavior. All the while, they were totally unconcerned with my temporary intrusion into their shadowy world. In observing how the two timbers were interacting, I would have bet that they were a mated pair. Toward the end of the session, Blackie uncoiled and crawled over to a different rock from its mate. (..a lover’s spat, perhaps?) It was then that I decided to leave but before I made my way off that ridge, I spotted one final rattler.

#9 was a photogenic and feisty youngster…likely less than a year old. This was a fitting end to the perfect day.

Feisty

And so the legend of Snake Mountain lives on. Through years of exploration I’ve witnessed what was feared a declining population. Throughout their extensive range, timber rattlesnake numbers are a mere fraction of what they once were and with so few sightings in recent years, I was afraid that the “wrong element” had discovered the tiny island pockets of timbers struggling to survive in my tiny Eden nestled within the vastness of the Appalachian Wilds.

That special day along “Blackie’s Ridge” offered renewed hope for the future of the species but one must be ever vigilant and enigmatic to ensure the continued survival and prosperity of these misunderstood, often maligned members of our natural world
…As Don Henley eloquently quipped in an old Eagles song, “You call someplace Paradise…kiss it goodbye.”

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Bob's Bio:

I am a Maryland photographer who specializes in nature in all its forms. For as long as I can remember, my love for the outdoors has inspired me to capture nature's beauty and intrigue. My primary interests photographically involve traveling the country and getting up close and personal with subjects in nature. My travels have taken me to every corner of the U.S. and parts of Canada but in today’s economy, it’s becoming evermore difficult to plan a road trip unless it’s all downhill! I prefer to shoot in full-manual 100% of the time because I believe that it affords the ultimate in control and accurately represents the challenges and rewards that this great art has to offer. I’m an active member of BetterPhoto.com and a regular contributor to their Forums and Newsletters. My photos have been published in business brochures and on Bugguide and other popular wildlife sites and many have been sold as fine art prints. Lately though, I do this for fun.

I believe photography to be the therapy which keeps one sane in a crazy world.

Feel free to visit my website at http://www.cammphoto.com/ .

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  All photos by Bob Cammarata

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Bob Cammarata's Bonus Photos

Ol' Blackie

Head to Head

A Promise for the Future
(newborn timber rattlesnakes at a den site)

"6 6 6"

                                                           

Hognose Snake

                                                                           

Northern Copperhead

Temptation

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Michelle Alton

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WISDOM OF OSCAR



This story, by Ron McEwan has everything—humor, pathos, and a wonderful lesson about little dogs! Ron hails from the great state of Missouri.

Ron McEwan

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I'd love to know what you think of the "Relentless Pursuit" series.  Please leave a comment below or email me with your suggestions on what you'd like to see on this blog.  Also, contact me if you have a story to post here.  And be sure to take a look at my photography site.  I'd love to hear from you!

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  Michelle Alton

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Wisdom of Oscar


It was a beautiful fall morning in October 2009. The sky was clear after a stunning sunrise; the air crisp enough to sting the nostrils. Your breath would hang in the air for moments, before dissipating.  Oscar, our loyal four-legged sidekick was anxious to be out of the truck and hiking down a trail in the Red River Gorge in Kentucky. He loves to sniff and poke his nose into every hole and crack that comes along.




Oscar (Photo by Ron McEwan)


We love these hikes because we get our well needed exercise and the photo opportunities are invariably more numerous than those along the Interstate.

Photo by Ron McEwan

Arriving at the trail head, I got myself loaded up with all the camera gear (that I won’t use 99 percent of the time). Fellow photographers will chuckle here. I have been down too many trails, caught without the right lens. It’s the familiar sad story of the shot that got away!

By now Oscar was pulling on the leash to get going. We have to keep him on a leash because he will be out of sight before you know it, most likely never to be seen again. Because he is a dachshund and hunting is bred into him, his 18 pounds of small stature becomes 500 pounds of bad attitude when something catches his eye! Dachshunds will not back off; they will stay focused until they win or die trying!

At last we were heading off down the trail, looking for a natural bridge in the Red River Gorge. We knew that it would be difficult to find because photos of it are rarely found in most photographers’ archives.

It was a fun hike, rubber necking along, shooting photos everywhere I looked. Beautiful fall colors, vistas from overlooks and all of God’s creations appeared around every bend.

Photo by Ron McEwan

Arriving at a point on the trail about two miles in that should have been close to the natural bridge, I was standing on top of the ridge. But I wanted to get a better view from a lower point of view.

Photo by Ron McEwan

Then the adventure started to unfold. We stepped off the trail onto a path that was barely visible and arrived at a “T” intersection. My wife, Shirley, thought we should go left. I said that we should go right. After 26 years in the Army with night compass training, I know “which way is up!”  So we took the path on the right.

Things began to change rapidly. With Oscar on a leash, I was strapped with cameras and other equipment. The trail became so narrow that we were sliding along the cliff with our feet pointing 180 degrees from each other. Oscar adamantly refused to take another step forward. So I picked him up and carried him.

This was getting to be too much. Protecting the camera, carrying a dog that does not want to go further and also trying to push mountain laurel away from my face, we concentrated on trying to keep our feet from slipping off the ledge, a hundred feet or more above the valley floor. At last we found the end of the trail, but we did NOT find the natural bridge. And for lack of a better description, we were standing on a giant rock peninsula.

Photo by Ron McEwan

So we turned back with Shirley now leading the way, muttering something like “We should’ve went left,” and I was embarrassed to realize, and to be told that I really don’t know everything.

By now Shirley was carrying Oscar. He was terrified of being so high up with barely enough room on the trail for him to walk. A dog can often be smarter than humans; they know their limits and learn to live with them.

As fast as a blink of an eye, actually faster because I saw it happen, the ledge gave way. Shirley and Oscar were gone. My first thought was that I lost the love of my life and my best friend all at the same time. There was no sound of any kind. Shirley and Oscar had disappeared in a flash!

Photo by Ron McEwan

Shirley fell perhaps 11 or 12 feet straight down. She had fallen onto another ledge into a pile of leaves and pine needles-- a blessing! She landed on her rump, still holding Oscar. If she had not held onto him, he would have fallen another hundred feet or so down.

It took some careful maneuvering to get down to them without falling myself. It had rained a lot that month, and everything was soft, so grabbing onto small brush was dangerous, because it might pull out from the water-soaked soil. Eventually, we made it.

Besides our prides being wounded, Shirley had pain spiking in her hip for a week or two afterward. But all seems well now.  She missed the hikes we were planning with a couple of photographers that I know from posting on Betterphoto.com, Randy Dinkins and Carol Fowler. We hiked for a couple of days down into Cumberland Falls. Shirley read a book while sitting by herself in the truck.

We did not get a picture of the Natural Bridge, but we learned a lot from that hike. Do not “push the envelope on a hike. If you have a dog with you, don’t ignore his signals! Pay attention to his wisdom because it just might save your life one day!




Shirley, Ron, and Oscar  (Photo by Ron McEwan)





 Ron's Bio:

I’m a retired soldier, with 26 years of service, living again in my home town halfway between Kansas City and Springfield, Missouri.

Also, I am an avid amateur photographer, that applies very little editorial enhancements. I have learned that a bad shot is a bad shot!  I have loved photography ever since the eighth grade when I purchased my first little 8-dollar brownie camera. I thought I had paid a fortune, and even to
keep film going through it was a financial struggle.

Today I enjoy just about any photo op. I am drawn to high overlooks and vistas and wild flowers as I go along the trails. And am always looking for the out of the way places that are not often photographed. I do travel as much as I can as long as the money holds out.

Ron McEwan



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