Back before the Kinzua Dam was built, the Allegheny River ran freely from Salamanca, N.Y., through the towns of Corydon, Kinzua and down to Warren.
As a kid, I remember the excellent smallmouth bass fishing back then and every Fourth of July our family spent a week camping upstream of Sugar Run on the far side of the river on a peninsula of land. It was a wonderful time for kids and family.
Tracy Run entered the river immediately above a mile-long island began named Reservation Island. A long, deep hole at the top of the island always held muskies, walleyes and bass and a little boat rental business existed there called Frank’s Boat Place.
Tracy Run was known for rattlesnakes and once when Dad was knocking on Frank’s door he glanced down and saw a big rattler coiled up a foot from his ankle. His galvanic backward leap defied gravity and set a world record, he swears. The snake was dead, accidently hit by the mower, but Dad didn’t know it at the time.
Halfway down Reservation Island, a deep watercourse angled across. It only ran when the river was in flood stage and was about 12 feet wide. Where this seasonal stream entered the west river channel, it dug a deep eddy protected by a bar from the river. This eddy always held fish, usually bass.
One afternoon, my Dad and I launched at Frank’s and floated downstream. It wasn’t long until we reached the eddy, pulled the canoe up and began casting into its clear deep waters. I immediately had a hit and Dad and I caught several bass between us before the action died. Suddenly Dad pointed out a large water snake swimming at us parallel to shore.
I don’t know how familiar you are with water snakes in this area. They flourished in the river bottom in those days since large areas were remote and seldom visited.
In the summer the grass grew head high, small ditches, tangled grape vines, underbrush and other heavy vegetation as well as multiflora rose, briars, nettles, poison ivy and weeds choked it to the point you could hardly force your way through. Mosquitoes and black flies along with the truly nasty horse flies that drew instant blood with each red hot bite were waiting for the unwary as well. Snakes, undisturbed in such remote circumstances can grow very old and long!
Water snakes avoid you if left alone, quickly diving into the water and disappearing. If threatened, you immediately became aware water snakes can become very aggressive. The placid and humble garter snakes of my backyard didn’t resemble the water snake in temperament at all, and I quickly learned water snakes should simply be left alone – they were no fun.
Water snakes are brown in color with diamond markings not unlike a rattlesnake. However, their oval heads in no way resemble the triangular head of poisonous US snakes with the pit viper slits of nostrils.
A dry water snake lying in the sun covered with a film of dirt or dried water scum is generally a dirty, greyish color, the markings and true color very hard to see unless wet, when they are seen clearly.
Anyway, I knew even at the age of 12 to avoid any close contact with water snakes and to never try and capture one since they were short tempered and also gave off foul smelling mucus hard to scrub off.
These thoughts ran quickly through my mind as I watched the snake’s big lazy “S” curves as he swam. Then the snake saw us, turned and dove underwater swimming rapidly away.
We resumed casting when Dad felt a hit and set the hook. To our amazement up popped the big snake, snagged accidently during the retrieve.
Dad’s 6-foot rod bent double pulling the upset snake in which was surprisingly strong. Dad however seemed to only be concerned in getting the snake to shore and releasing it unharmed. All went well until the snake reached the shallows. It was then that things quickly deteriorated.
Suddenly, the snake stopped swimming, lifted his big head out of the water as I watched fascinated, following his every movement. First he looked at the painful lure, then the line; traced it to the rod and then my Dad standing on the beach.
I watched the snake thinking for a second about this and he quickly added two and two together. His entire attention suddenly shifted straight to Dad – he knew exactly what the problem was and he was going to take care of it, now!
Now you may laugh and doubt that in such circumstances anyone could say they actually saw a snake think. But over the years, I have witnessed the smarter snakes do this, especially black snakes.
They observe, make decisions and react accordingly. It bothers me extremely that snakes of any species or size are capable of basic reasoning, but it’s so.
The big snake focused his hatred and pain upon Dad and immediately began swimming as fast as possible, straight at my father! Dad’s face changed to one of panicked alarm, he gasped and briefly hesitated, unsure whether to drop the rod and run or try and keep the snake at bay. Before he could make up his mind the snake was on the beach, all four feet of him determined to extract revenge.
The snake instantly struck viciously at my father’s bare feet. Instinctively my Dad spread his legs, stood on his tip toes, arched his back and extended his arms as far forward as possible, the picture of extreme anxiety.
I’d backed away and had a perfect view of my Dad’s arched, circular posture, the deeply bent rod and the striking snake. I was astonished, scared and surprisingly amused at the scene.
Dad wasn’t laughing, however, straining and stretching every fiber to keep the striking snakes teeth away from his legs. Every time the snake struck he only missed by a short inch or two and as the force of his strike bent the rod tip toward Dad every strike the snake was certain he’d finally get hold of him.
The snake struck and struck again and again as Dad stretched and strained desperately trying to keep those sharp teeth away. Finally in a sort of strangled scream he yelled; “Do something!”
Startled out of my trance, I wondered what I could possibly do? Then I ran to the canoe and grabbed a paddle, circling back behind the snake, ready to retreat if necessary.
No danger, the snakes entire attention was focused on those bare legs as he repeated struck, never seeming to weary.
Taking a deep breath I sneaked forward, avoided the line and quickly pinned the snake’s neck when he drew it back.
The terror left my Dad’s face and thinking quickly he dropped the pole, running to the canoe, returning with a pair of needle nosed pliers and quickly twisting the hook out. I released the paddle and we both ran for it.
The angry and determined snake chased us 10 feet further across the stones, then thinking better of it, turned, slithered quickly to the water and vanished.
Dad was staring at his legs amazed, I believe, he hadn’t been bitten. After a minute, he looked up at me and grinned, holding up his trembling hands.
“That was one really ticked off snake,” he remarked dryly.
My mind whirled; this was an opportunity for something witty, repeatable for years. Ah, inspiration struck.
“Didn’t notice,” I replied nonchalantly, and we both burst into laughter.
