Daddy was always one for an adventure. He was one of those fortunate few who was born with a wandering soul and things that seem "normal" to the rest of us caused him to become restless and irritable. I can remember being a small child and since Momma was working all the time I spent most days with either my father or my uncles.
     We lived in West Texas as the time so there was always something to do in the surrounding desert. We would drive for what seemed like hours out to the old abandon military base to hike and search for treasure. He was always fond of collecting junk and still is to this day. Quite the packrat I guess you'd say. 
    These trips, I think, were always more fun for him than for me. I tagged along while he roamed through the desert, where signs stating that we were trespassers and warnings to watch for unexploded missiles (since this was an old training site). I was always frightened that we would come across something dangerous. Constantly watching the ground for bullet looking objects and snakes. You could always hear the snakes rattling and hissing in the tumble weeds and scrub oak bushes.  
    There was one particular trip that stands out in my memory. We had been hiking through some fairly hill terrain when my father hollered at me "Stay back Bugsy", he still calls me Bugsy; "don't come any closer". I remember being very frightened and thought that he had found some sort of dangerous military device and was going to blow us up. I was standing back behind him on the high side of a hill when I heard the shot from the pistol that he always carried with him. Daddy and shot himself a rattle snake. West Texas diamond back to be exact. He was so excited, like a little boy that had just done something he knew he shouldn't have but came out better than he expected.
After he knew that the snake was definitely dead, Daddy called me over to see. He always made me play his silly games and I think he would have been much happier if I had been born a boy instead of a girl. Since luck wasn't in his favor on that one, he went out of his was to make sure I was well trained in the ways of boys. Yuck.
Daddy picked up the snake at the base of its head and handed it to me. I knew what was expected and if I said no or cried, I was in for ad good spanking so I played along and took the snake. Daddy had a camera and had to take pictures. there were pictures of me holding the snake, Daddy holding the snake, Daddy with the snake in his mouth, Daddy skinning the snake.....I thought after the skinning, we would be done and get to go home for supper, but no, The snake was supper. By this time I was on the verge of tears. I did not want to eat snake. Much less a poison’s one. I just knew that I would eat the poison and die. Why was Daddy trying to kill me? He was saving the snake skin to make something weird with, why did we have to eat it also. "Toughen up" daddy said, "Big girls don't cry. Don't be a baby. It will taste good, you will see. Where's your sense of adventure?" I was 7. I didn't have a sense of adventure outside of new tricks on the monkey bars on the school playground. What was he thinking!
Daddy cooked that snake. He would build a small camp fire, wrapped the snake on a stick and cooked it.
 All I can say is "Taste like chicken".