Ronald Barnes brings ‘em back alive.
Not the wanted lawbreakers whose pictures hang in post offices, but cargo just as deadly.
During early summer to early fall, the 64-year-old Wyoming County native follows his dangerous avocation of catching rattlesnakes and copperheads for sport.
“I like to think that I’m performing a service to the community,” says Barnes. “I’m not trying to upset the balance of nature—only trying to make the woods safe for people and pets.”
Although Barnes doesn’t consider snake hunting the most dangerous sport in the world, he admits that he is cautious while surveying wooded ravines and rocky slopes for the poisonous prey.
“You can’t be too careful when you’re after snakes,” says the former electrical foreman of two mine shop in Mullens.
“And you’d better keep in mind what you’re doing. A lapse in your concentration could mean disaster. Even if you aren’t bitten you could slip and fall from a 150-foot cliff.”
Barnes drags rattlesnakes and copperheads from their dens with long, metal rods with crooked ends. He also uses thin, loop ropes tied to 3-foot sticks.
He sometimes uses a metal rod with a clamping device to secure the snakes while they are being deposited into sacks.
Barnes estimates that he has bagged more than 1,380 of the venomous reptiles this way since the summer of 1972. “When you go out and collect 50 to 100 a day, it doesn’t take long for the number to add up.”
He reports having caught a 41-inch copperhead near Hurricane Branch in Wyoming County and a 39-inch rattlesnake near Whitesville in Boone County.
Barnes once hauled 52 copperheads from a rock-cliff den during a morning hunt several years ago. Then he and his fellow hunters caught another 54 snakes during their afternoon trek on the same day.
The hunter is especially cautious when placing the serpents in cloth sacks after they’ve been captured.
“Putting the snakes in the sack is the most dangerous part of the hunt,” he says. “That’s where you have to watch, or they’ll hang a fang in the sack and then strike back at you.
“I always try to shove them all the way to the bottom and then tie the opening in a knot.”
Barnes recalls that some strong snakes have crawled through the knot of his sack and then eluded their captor. He now uses rawhide cords to bind the sacks for double protection.
“I’ve had snakes get lose in my pickup,” he says. “One snake was in there for two weeks before I got him out. I knew he was in there because the sack was empty. I drove everywhere before I finally got him back to where I caught him. Then I turned him lose.”
And some snakes are more dangerous than others, according to Barnes.
“Copperheads are timid and cause little trouble unless they are starved or injured in some way,” the veteran snake hunter explains. “But rattlers, especially the large ones, don’t give ground easily. They won’t back off from fright, so they are more of a threat.”
He adds, “Snakes are the most dangerous when you are not aware of their presence. About the only danger of being bitten is running up on a snake when you least expect it.”
Barnes keeps a vigilant eye out for rattlesnakes. He has a string of horny rattles taken from the ends of the serpents’ tails.
He carries a glass vial in the bottom of his gunny sack. Sometimes he displays his skill at collecting venom from the fangs of his captives.
“A rattler that I caught the other day had fangs that were nearly an inch long,” Barnes says. “I put my hand up against the glass cage and I could feel the power of his strike. He had plenty of poison to put in you.”
In the heat of early summer, when many rattlesnakes are on the move, Barnes’ expertise is in demand.
He gets calls from neighbors whenever they see a snake—any snake.
His name is synonymous with serpents, especially among those who would handle the wriggling, hissing creatures during candlelight vigils in the sanctuaries of remote country churches.
Both rattlesnakes and copperheads will fetch a fair price on the sectarian markets.
“Fifteen dollars for a big one,” says Barnes. “Just about any size will fetch a $10 bill.”
Barnes says he’s heard of a few snake-handlers paying as high as $50 for a prime poisonous specimen.
“I’d just like to catch up with the feller who offers that price,” the man declares with a grin. “I could flood the market.”
Barnes has caught hundreds of snakes since he was a boy. For years, the talkative woodsman has spent several days each year traipsing through the rugged forests of Wyoming County in search of the poisonous reptiles.
The snake hunter warns that hikers should never step over a log without first stepping on top of it and looking for snakes on the other side.
He stresses that snakes, which have a cooler body temperature than most creatures, enjoy lying just out of the direct rays of the sun.
And, he says, the high ridges and rocky terrain are the best locations for snake hunting. “It’s the best place to look for copperheads.”
Other likely spots for the snakes are around rock, wood and sawdust piles.
Barnes says he scours the woods along nature and hiking trails from May until October in an effort to help protect woodsmen and hikers who go there.
And though he’s never been bitten by the dreaded vipers, Barnes admits he’s had his share of close calls.
Like the time a 3-foot copperhead nearly nailed Barnes on the face as he peered under a rock with his flashlight:
“He nearly got me on the lip,” he recalls, shaking his head. “At that distance, I was lucky he missed me.”
Barnes pauses, then adds, “I learned something from that incident. I don’t go around jamming my head under rocks anymore without first looking to see what’s in there.”
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Top o’ the morning!