Gen-X Jim Presents: How To Be A Rattlesnake Wrangler – American Edition

By JIM CLAYTON/Staff Writer

I was reading a story online earlier today. It was one of those “clickbait” pieces of entertainment fluff, designed not so much to inform as to shock. The story took place in the charming little town of Buffalo Gap, Texas. A young family was preparing for breakfast, and their small son went to the bathroom. As he raised the lid of the toilet, to his surprise, he found a 3-foot Western Diamondback rattlesnake curled in the cool water of the basin.

We’ve all heard terrifying urban legends about snakes in toilets. The internet is rife with them.

In this case, the snake isn’t the story. The real story is about the man who dealt with the snake in the toilet. He was a park ranger, specialized in the capture of dangerous snakes. He came to the home, caught the snake from the toilet (it hadn’t moved) and prepared to leave and relocate the animal.

Here is where the story took a turn, and, ultimately, prompted me to share this today.

The ranger pondered about the different ways the animal could have come into the house; most likely, he thought, it was through the plumbing. He came to the conclusion that the snake found a hole in one of the plumbing pipes in the crawl space of the home.

He decided to have a look.

As he crawled into this tight, dark place, it wasn’t long before he found the hole… along with a den of rattlesnakes in short-term hibernation for the winter. 

The ranger removed a total of 26 Western Diamondback rattlesnakes from beneath the residence, patched the hole in the pipe so nothing could enter again, and then relocated the snakes away from populated areas. When he was praised by the community as a hero, the ranger stated simply,

“I’m not a hero. This was the right thing to do, is all. That’s what Americans are supposed to do.”

Is that true, though?

Riddle me this, Batman: beyond the literal definition (a citizen of the United States of America), what does being “American” really mean? What sparks our patriotism? More to the point, if the fearless park ranger’s matter-of-fact statement is true, how many modern-day Americans are really “American?”

It was during my grandfather’s prime when Americans flocked to the aid of the world and helped destroy a Nazi madman. We protected the world from foes stronger than they. Where we saw death, or persecution, we sought to end it. Where there was wrong, we tried to right it. Americans cared for those who were sick, injured, or weakened. We supported our neighbors and friends, taught our children right and wrong, and strengthened our resolve in the face of opposition.

We proudly display a 150-foot, copper-coated statue in the harbor of our greatest city. The quote at its feet reads, “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” Americans cared. For the world. For the “have nots.” It was our calling, as a people, and it made us the greatest country in the history of our planet.

However, that was my Grandpa’s America. My America has become an isolationist, angry, and frightened place. We seem polarized by sensationalism in our media, corruption and greed in our leadership, and an identity that seems encapsulated by who we chose to vote for in the last election; and we make enemies out of anyone who voted differently. We have the knowledge of the world, literally in the palm of our hands, yet we use it for funny memes, picking fights with complete strangers, and keeping up with the pop-culture standard.

So, I ask again. Is the park ranger the American example, or has he become the American exception? Do we care, anymore?

I think we do.

The night the tornado devastated Van, Texas, on the eve of Mother’s Day, 2015, I saw heroes. I saw strangers pulling strangers from the remains of their homes. At the local Baptist church, I saw common people create a makeshift triage, hastily thrown together to get the victims out of the elements and help with the worst injuries until the paramedics could make it through downfalls and debris to tend to their wounds and pain. I saw fearlessness. I saw comfort and relief given to those who were in desperate need. I saw Americans being American.

You know what I didn’t see?

I didn’t see anyone ask anyone else if they were Republican or Democrat. They didn’t care if the person was Baptist, Methodist, or even a Christian. They were not concerned about their gender, their view on immigration, or who they chose to
spend their lives with. Hard people, with bald heads and tattoos, helped rescue people who would normally judge their appearance in fear.

I saw a child take a toy from his mother’s purse and give it to another child who had just lost everything they had ever known. He didn’t care that the child was a different color.

You wanna know why I didn’t see those things that night? When the chips are down, and people are in need, those things just don’t matter. To paraphrase P.T. Berkey…

I can say with great certainty that I did not know what being an American was, until I knew what being an American was not.

That’s it for now. Remember the rules:

Take care of each other.
Be good to yourself.
Don’t be a jerk.

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