Rattlesnake logic - Two ways to deal with a deadly threat.
Every now and then I get an email that may be worth considering. Recently I received this one. I offer it for your consideration only. It is blunt and to the point and even I may quibble with certain parts but it should be placed on the table for debate. BT
A Texan explains his approach to dealing with rattlesnakes on his ranch.
Here in west Texas , I have rattlesnakes on my place, living among us. I have killed a rattlesnake on the front porch. I have killed a rattlesnake on the back porch.
I have killed rattlesnakes in the barn, in the shop and on the driveway. In fact, I kill every rattlesnake I encounter. I kill rattlesnakes because I know a rattlesnake will bite me and inject me with poison.
I don't stop to wonder WHY a rattlesnake will bite me; I know it WILL bite me because it's a rattlesnake and that's what rattlesnakes do.
I don't try to reason with a rattlesnake or have a "meaningful dialogue" with it. I just kill it.
I don't try to get to know the rattlesnake better so I can find a way to live with the rattlesnakes and convince them not to bite me. I just kill them.
I don't quiz a rattlesnake to see if I can find out where the other snakes are, because:
(a) It won't tell me, and,
(b) I already know they live on my place. So, I just kill the rattlesnake and move on to the next one.
I don't look for ways I might be able to change the rattlesnake to a non-poisonous rat snake. I just kill it. Oh, and on occasion, I accidentally kill a rat snake because I thought it was a rattlesnake at the time.
Also, I know for every rattlesnake I kill, two more are lurking out there in the brush. In my lifetime I will never be able to rid my place of rattlesnakes.
Do I fear them? Not really. Do I respect what they can do to me and my family? Yes!
And because of that respect, I give them the fair justice they deserve. I kill them.
Here is another take on the same subject:
A little boy was walking down a path and he came across a rattlesnake. The rattlesnake was getting old. He asked, "Please little boy, can you take me to the top of the mountain? I hope to see the sunset one last time before I die." The little boy answered "No Mr. Rattlesnake. If I pick you up, you'll bite me and I'll die." The rattlesnake said, "No, I promise. I won't bite you. Just please take me up to the mountain." The little boy thought about it and finally picked up that rattlesnake and took it close to his chest and carried it up to the top of the mountain.
They sat there and watched the sunset together. It was so beautiful. Then after sunset the rattlesnake turned to the little boy and asked, "Can I go home now? I am tired, and I am old." The little boy picked up the rattlesnake and again took it to his chest and held it tightly and safely. He came all the way down the mountain holding the snake carefully and took it to his home to give him some food and a place to sleep. The next day the rattlesnake turned to the boy and asked, "Please little boy, will you take me back to my home now? It is time for me to leave this world, and I would like to be at my home now." The little boy felt he had been safe all this time and the snake had kept his word, so he would take it home as asked.
He carefully picked up the snake, took it close to his chest, and carried him back to the woods, to his home to die. Just before he laid the rattlesnake down, the rattlesnake turned and bit him in the chest. The little boy cried out and threw the snake upon the ground. "Mr. Snake, why did you do that? Now I will surely die!" The rattlesnake looked up at him and grinned, "You knew what I was when you picked me up."
The eclectic playlist of melodies that I am drawn to in inspiration to learn, and play, has just been enriched by one melody from my childhood that concurrently found its place into the collective consciousness of generations, rightly seeking that bittersweet space where happiness lives.
There are so many outstanding songs written over the last seventy years since the advent of hi-fidelity stereophonic equipment's development, which stands to reason, music played well and properly presented sticks perfectly to our better spirits.
I am writing my most difficult book report ever at 70 years old. It is about another GI I did not know, and an enemy I never wanted to know. Yet we were all in the same place forty-eight years ago along with a bunch of others, with us trying to kill him and his comrades and him trying to kill us