The Release of Self
Until I read this morning's paper I knew nothing about rattlesnake roundups. It seems that I've missed, by two days, Whigham, Georgia's Annual Rattlesnake Roundup.
But I'm not too late for the roundup in Sweetwater, Texas. They bill their event as the World's Largest Rattlesnake Roundup. If you don't care too much for snakes you can sample the dishes at the Chili and Brisket cook-off.
For those who enjoy snakes there's a rattler weigh-in, a guided snake hunt, and a rattlesnake sighting bus tour. I think that's my level.
The snakes aren't returned to their homes after the roundup ends.No—many snakes are deep fried and eaten. Does the most dangerous North American snake, the Mojave Rattlesnake, taste the same as a Timber Rattlesnake?
While hiking in an area near Lake George in New York State, I passed a large rattler sunning himself two feet off the trail. Actually he was coiled on a sunny rock and I nearly collapsed from fright.
In a few churches in Appalachia venomous snake handling still survives —even after a number of deaths. West Virginia is the only state that hasn't banned the practice of snake handling.
The people who attend these services believe that the handling of the serpents is rooted in specific biblical passages. The words are interpreted literally and the handling of snakes is a sign of obedience.
Several years ago I read Salvation on Sand Mountain by New York Times reporter Dennis Covington. He gives an honest portrayal of both the practice and the people who partake in the handling. In fact he handled snakes on several occasions.
I'm sure that sociologists can find a number of reasons for this belief —a belief that took hold in rural Appalachia. Covington writes about this phenomenon and the people who practice handling venomous snakes. He writes with a non-judgmental voice and finds himself moved by the honesty and faith of the people he meets.
After attending a number of services, becoming friends with several handlers and pastors he wrote: "I knew then why the handlers took up serpents. There is power in the act of disappearing; there is victory in the loss of self."
The release of self to a belief is what Covington observed in those who did the actual handling of the snakes.
Later on he sees the experiences as "a sort of group hypnosis or group hysteria."
But I'm not too late for the roundup in Sweetwater, Texas. They bill their event as the World's Largest Rattlesnake Roundup. If you don't care too much for snakes you can sample the dishes at the Chili and Brisket cook-off.
For those who enjoy snakes there's a rattler weigh-in, a guided snake hunt, and a rattlesnake sighting bus tour. I think that's my level.
The snakes aren't returned to their homes after the roundup ends.No—many snakes are deep fried and eaten. Does the most dangerous North American snake, the Mojave Rattlesnake, taste the same as a Timber Rattlesnake?
While hiking in an area near Lake George in New York State, I passed a large rattler sunning himself two feet off the trail. Actually he was coiled on a sunny rock and I nearly collapsed from fright.
In a few churches in Appalachia venomous snake handling still survives —even after a number of deaths. West Virginia is the only state that hasn't banned the practice of snake handling.
The people who attend these services believe that the handling of the serpents is rooted in specific biblical passages. The words are interpreted literally and the handling of snakes is a sign of obedience.
Several years ago I read Salvation on Sand Mountain by New York Times reporter Dennis Covington. He gives an honest portrayal of both the practice and the people who partake in the handling. In fact he handled snakes on several occasions.
I'm sure that sociologists can find a number of reasons for this belief —a belief that took hold in rural Appalachia. Covington writes about this phenomenon and the people who practice handling venomous snakes. He writes with a non-judgmental voice and finds himself moved by the honesty and faith of the people he meets.
After attending a number of services, becoming friends with several handlers and pastors he wrote: "I knew then why the handlers took up serpents. There is power in the act of disappearing; there is victory in the loss of self."
The release of self to a belief is what Covington observed in those who did the actual handling of the snakes.
Later on he sees the experiences as "a sort of group hypnosis or group hysteria."
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