Rattlesnake Rodeo – Part One of Five

1.

Friday Evening

July 16th, 1984

6:21 P.M.

Standing in front of a group of teenage boys, Reed Waters holds a broom handle, occasionally tapping it on the cement floor of the garage of the Jubilee of Life Pentecostal Church. Beside him, seated on a tall cedar stool, Jacob Tilden untwists a wire hanger.

“Once you get the hanger undone, and this part is vitally important,” Tilden says, making important into three distinct syllables, IM-POR-TANT, “You have to stretch it straight and fold it over. It’s for strength. Then, you loop around, just like this. And, can you hand me that wood glue over there? Thank you much.”

Tilden fills a freshly-drilled hole in the end of the broom handle with what looks to Reed like too much glue. “If you don’t fold the wire over and you end up with one of them big bastards on your loop, then you just might be outta luck. The single wire just can’t handle the strength of the wily things -they are stronger than you think.”

Tilden makes a loop and twists the end of the wire with rusty, red-handled pliers and works it in the hole of the broom handle. Glue, the color of old newsprint drips to the floor. He picks up the silver roll of duct tape from the counter and tears a piece off with his nicotine stained teeth.

“Now, all you have to do is make sure the loop is secure to the handle,” he says, wrapping the tape several times around it.

“And, presto! You have the best damned rattler catcher you can’t buy.”

He holds the new snake hook up triumphantly and hands it over to Reed.

“Some people’ll tell you that those long barbecue tongs are the only way to go when working the rodeo, but don’t listen to ‘em. This is the way to do it. I call it a lightning stick. You gotta strike, fast as lightning, before that rattler does.”

“Thanks, Mr. Tilden,” says Reed.

“Call me, Jacob, son, like in the Bible,” Tilden nods, pulling up his sleeve to reveal a tattoo of a ladder with a snake woven in and out of the rungs. The ink was surely black at one time, long ago, but is now the same pale blue as the old man’s eyes.

“Now Reed, you get on out of here and let them other boys get a chance to make their lightning sticks, then we’ll all head down to the field for the blessing.”

Reed turns and walks out the garage door and is in enveloped in the smothering ocean wall of humidity that is Eastern Nebraska in late July. Even in the evening, the temperature is well over 90 degrees and the sweat never stops pouring.

At the edge of the driveway, gathered at a picnic table beneath a weeping willow tree, a group of boys laze about with glass bottles of Coca-Cola and miniature bags of Taco Flavor Doritos.

“You’re up next,” says Reed to the ginger-haired boy leaning against the table. He flips his chin up at Reed, a smirk on his face, tosses a crumpled chip bag to the ground and walks past him toward the garage. The other boys eagerly follow him, disappearing into the metal building.

Reed walks past the bench and sits beneath the tree, quickly losing himself in thought, unconsciously spinning the snake hook around in the grass.

2.

Friday Evening

July 16th, 1984

7:40 P.M.

Jubilee of Life Church

Beginning in the summer between fifth and sixth grades, Reed’s parents sent him to the Jubilee of Life’s Celebration of the Snake Camp in Decatur, a predominately Pentecostal town along the Missouri River, south of Omaha. The camp takes place during Decatur’s Serpent Days, a week-long festival, featuring a carnival fairway, rides, grilled street corn on a stick, the Queen Rattler contest and the Great Snake Parade. The events include Nebraska’s only Rattlesnake Rodeo on Saturday morning.

This year, Reed is 13. All the 13-year-old boys that attend camp take part in the rodeo as a rite of passage in the church. They are accompanied by veteran snake chasers also attending the camp, ranging in age from 14 to 18. Old timers, like Jacob Tilden are also around to guide the new chasers.

While the boys are out catching snakes, the girls from the camp spend time learning the “fang dances,” where they learn how to avoid getting bitten while dancing their way through the Serpent Days Parade. The girls learn the traditional sword dances and practice the snake dance with harmless garter snakes. The girl crowned Queen Rattler has the honor (well they call it an honor but it’s generally terrifying to the winner) of dancing the snake dance, with a real rattle snake, on a flatbed trailer pulled behind Jack Reynolds driving his ’78 Lil’ Red Express truck.

After nearly falling asleep in the oppressive heat, Reed sees the other boys emerging from the garage. He and the other boys join them and begin the walk to the Decatur Rattlers football practice field.

They pass downtown on their way to the field. The lights of the ferris wheel and tilt-a-whirl and the smell of carnival food create a cotton candy Vegas from the usually quiet town square. The boys look longingly at the rides and food (and at some of the local girls walking with rainbow soaked rattlesnake balloons floating about their heads). Reed looks down, realizing it will be another hour or more before they are set loose from the ceremonies.

In the shadow of Rattler Stadium, a hundred or more people are gathered in a circle. As they approach, the crowd quiets and parts, allowing them to enter the middle of the circle, lit by candles in small paper bags, where Reverend Corwin stands on a round stage, rising a few feet above the grass.

He greets the boys and Jacob with a smile and motions for them to form their own circle, back to back, facing the crowd.

“Before you, stand the latest group of our righteous young people, ready to join the other fine members of our flock in the hunt.

Palms strike palms and cheers of “Praise God,” “Amen Brother,” “Go get um, boys,” and “That’s my son!” fill the evening air, even the sounds of the carnival, only blocks away are momentarily drowned out.

Reverend Corwin’s grin reaches from ear to ear as he nods his head in agreement with the crowd. He puts up his hands, making a quiet down motion.

“Alright everybody, simmer down, there will be more time to cheer them on tomorrow.”

“Let us bless these fine young men and their newly made lightning sticks and welcome them to the hunt.”

“Please join me in prayer.”

Heads bow, eyes close, others shake their heads back and forth mumbling, and some raise their hands to the sky with open arms, in preparation for the blessing.

Lord Jesus, we come to you as our Deliverer. We believe that You are the Son of God, that You died for us and rose again. We confess You as Lord and renounce all influences of Satan in our lives. Lord, you know the demons that oppress me, that harass me, that entice me, that enslave me.

We come before you today to help us see these members of your flock off to achieve the next step on their journey to salvation, to help them become closer to you, oh Lord.

Mark told us that, “Anyone who believes and is baptized will be saved, but anyone who does not believe will be punished. And those who believe will be able to do these things as proof: They will use my name to force out demons. They will speak in new languages. They will pick up snakes and drink poison without being hurt. They will touch the sick, and the sick shall be healed.”

These boys were baptized when they were nine, down at the banks of the Missouri (pronounced Miz-ur-uh). They walked out of that mighty river, showing their love for You. They were born again as they opened their eyes and looked upon your great creation.

Today they prepare to once again show their faith and cast out sin by not only handling the serpent, but also hunting down the beast themselves.

Now these boys are thirteen and ready to follow Your path to Salvation.

Tomorrow morning, they begin the day as children and, if their faith is strong, and I know it will be, our boys will end the day as men.

Luke tells us that, when warriors returned from their crusade for the Lord, even the demons obeyed them when they gave them a command in your name! Jesus answered them, I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven. Listen! I have given you authority, so that you can walk on snakes and scorpions and overcome all the power of the Enemy, and nothing will hurt you.

And nothing did.

Just like those warriors, these children of God will strike quickly, using Lightning Sticks they made guided by you oh Lord. They will capture the serpents and the beasts will fall like lightning, just like Satan fell when you, Lord, cast him down to the fiery pit.

And just like Satan, those snakes will use all their power to try and strike back. But, armed with strength from the Lord, they will overcome and return these boys unharmed and ready to face and those fanged beasts at our Sunday morning services.

Holy Father, bless these young men as they set out on the hunt.

In the name of Jesus Christ, our one and only Savior,

Amen

Shouts of Amen and Hallelujah and a burst of clapping roars from the crowd. The Reverend walks to each boy and lays his left hand on the top of their snake catcher and shakes their hand with the right.

Now I’m sure these boys want to join the festivities in the town square, so go on now, have fun this evening. We’ll see you all in the morning as we gather at the field behind the church to begin the hunt.

“Go forth my friends, and if you haven’t, be sure to pick up one of Ruthie’s kolaches or two or three. You know she won’t be making them again until next year, which is a good thing because I might lose my girlish figure,” he says, patting his protruding belly.

The boys give their staffs to their parents and most head off to the carnival.

2.5. – Interlude One

Very Early Saturday Morning

July 17, 1984

12:19 A.M.

Bunkhouse, Celebration of the Serpent Camp

Wide awake from a combination of adrenaline, caffeine and sugar from the carnival, several children are gathered in a circle by some bunkbeds, hushed, looking toward one face lit up by a flashlight.

“All right, all right, quiet down,” says the voice. “James, Ryan, and you, tubby, just keep quiet or it’s lights out.

The voice is that of Sebastian, a tall boy with dark hair brushing his shoulders, and a permanent, Clint Eastwood squint on his face. Like nobody else is getting the joke.

“I said, shut the Hell up or I’m making you asswipes go to bed now!”

“Come on guys,” a stern female voice echoes, “I want to hear this.”

“OK, I’m going to tell you a story called The Present,” says Sebastian, lowering his head, his narrow eyes scanning the group.

30 years ago, a camper named Liberty was here, and it just so happened that her birthday was the first night of camp.

Liberty was sad that she was away from her friends, but the counsellors and some new camp friends tried to make her birthday memorable by throwing her a party after lights out, in this very bunkhouse.

Earlier in the evening, a few of the girls gathered wildflowers to give to Liberty as a present. After scouring the countryside, they found goldenrod and sunflowers and a few beautiful bluebells to wrap up for her.

While out looking for flowers, lodged at the base of an ancient willow tree, a girl found an old, cracked and heavy, but still pretty, tea kettle. It was made from old pot metal, white with blue floral pattern around the middle. The lid was rusted shut, but the girls decided it was still a good idea to give it to Liberty as a present.

They washed and scrubbed the tea kettle, but the lid wouldn’t come off and a few stubborn rocks were lodged in the rusty spout, so they couldn’t see inside.

One of the counsellors helped them find paper and a box to wrap it in for the party.

After the entire bunkhouse sang happy birthday to her, they gave her the flowers, in an orange crush can with the top removed with a can opener, and the present.

Liberty was overjoyed to open the gift and she happily displayed both presents on her bedside table.

After the party, as she lay in her bunk, Liberty traced the cracks along the tea kettle with her fingers. As she did, it almost fell off the table, but she caught it, just in time. It felt more fragile than when she first opened the present. She wondered if the girls did some damage when they were cleaning it up. She felt so happy that she’d gotten a gift from her new friends that she didn’t care. She pulled the tea kettle from the table and held it tight in her arms as she drifted off to sleep.

Early the next morning, as the girls got ready to go to breakfast, before the rodeo began, Liberty was still in bed.

The counsellor went up to get her, she saw Liberty’s slight shape beneath the covers of the four poster bed. “Come on, Libby, yesterday was your birthday, no sleeping in today,” she began as she pulled the covers back to reveal Liberty’s face, now bloated and lifeless, her mouth curved in a rictus grin.

Sitting next to Liberty on the bed was the tea kettle, now in several pieces, and there, curled up on her chest, poised to strike, a baby rattlesnake, shaking it’s tiny, single button of a rattle at the shocked counsellor.