I apologize for the length of this entry. It was a great weekend of camping, but this was the high point.

We were on a youth group campout. On Saturday afternoon, we ran a search-and-rescue and first aid competition, with teams going out to locate, treat and retrieve their "victims."

I was encouraging Team 2 as they carried in their "victim" near the finish line when the "victim" from Team 1 (who had walked in, since he was tired of being dropped on the rocks by his team... pretty good feat for a guy with a "broken" femur) let out a shout, "Snake!"

Naturally I hustled in, partly because there are rattlers out here, but mainly to make sure no one did anything stupid to the snake.

I like snakes. Even rattlers.

Turned out it was a bullsnake, Pituophis catenifer sayi. Biggest one I have ever seen. Gorgeous, and in a panic with over a dozen kids surrounding it in the tall bitterbrush. Half of whom are also in a panic, but drawn in closer just the same.

And headed straight for the parked vehicles.

Not a good idea. For the snake. Somebody's gonna take offense (and shovel) at that.

So, naturally, I place myself between snake and trucks. Always before, when I needed to capture a large snake, I would press a stick or shovel down on them near the front end, grasp the animal immediately behind the head, and then not let go. The snakes make it obvious they do not like that treatment. I've been watching Crocodile Man on TV, and his method seems so much kinder to the snake.

So, as she slides past, I just reached down and picked up the back third. Snake made a half-hearted attempt to see what was happening to her back end, and then tried to resume her escape. So I "walked" her over to a large rockpile, tons of kids in tow. Some in awe, a few expecting me to get bit and die before their eyes, and a couple that want to touch the snake.

She feels really neat. (I assume it was a "she." Normally with herps, the females are the larger of the sexes, and this being the largest bullsnake I have encountered, it just felt right to call it "her.") Nice and dry, unlike a near-slimy gartersnake. Sort of like hard rubber. And no smell at all.

A couple kids got brave enough to touch the end I was holding, including one girl about 10 years old. Even though, when asked if it would bite them, I replied "It's a wild animal. I make no promises."

We went back to the recap of the first aid course, but a couple kids, including the young girl, stayed up with the snake. So I went back to make sure it was ok.

It had found a small niche in the rocks, too small to hide more than half its body, and she was bouncing pinecones and small sticks at it.

Oooookay, guess we'll stay here a while.

So I sit about five feet from the snake, and we have a pleasant discussion about not hurting snakes. Meantime, half the rest of the crew has followed us up into the trees and rocks, so the snake is having a hissy-fit. This damn hole just isn't big enough.

The first aid leader comes up, clearly perturbed "my" snake has interrupted his summation of their performance. But, hey, I ain't leaving this snake alone with the pinecone-throwing kid, which happens to be your daughter. You wanta have a summation, do it up here. This is where we all are, anyway.

Several kids still want to "touch" it. One gets brave enough to reach around the rock from above to try to touch the exposed tail.

"Will it bite me if I do this?"

"Maybe."

He touched it just the same, and the bullsnake coiled herself tighter in the crack. But he was satisfied and left, and most of the kids left with him. I remained on guard.

A couple boys I know well stayed behind with me, and I eventually got them all on one side of the rock.

One of them remarked that it was too bad Mrs. Grouse had run back into town, and had missed seeing the bullsnake. I agreed. And she could be back any time now.

While we talked, the bullsnake made her exit the other way. But soon she was surrounded again.

So I picked her up and let her rest on my arms and fingers, and everybody who was left got to touch her.

She was a real sweetheart, tolerating it all with only one or two hisses.

Bullsnakes are constrictors. They even hunt and eat rattlesnakes, and now I know how. When she wrapped herself around my arm or wrist, it would have been quite difficult to get her off.

Finally all left but one boy. We re-released the snake, and then kept tabs on it from a distance as it crawled over the rocks. Right over the top, straight towards the campsite.

Which is now full of resting campers.

She headed straight for the tent of the biggest snake-paranoid. The one who was going to touch her. Touch her with a shovel. (The "victim" for Team 1.)

When she got to the tents, I gathered her up again, and carried her off another direction from camp.

Snake turns and heads straight for the paranoid's tent again. And we're not talking meandering. A few sniffs of the tongue here and there, and then her path is straight as an arrow.

As her head passed a pinecone, I noted where the tip of her tail was. And measured the distance. Four feet and nine inches, not including the slight curves in the body. She's gotta be at least five feet long.

She nearly reaches their tent and I catch her again. It's been an hour now, and once again I've got an audience.

And wife should be back any second.

Wife loves snakes. A tomboy who grew up loving nothing better than to freak out other kids by letting snakes coil around her neck or crawl up her sleeves.

So the bullsnake and I head into camp and stand around, waiting for the wife.

All the kids in camp touch and rub the snake, except the paranoid. His scared tentmate ("victim" #2) even managed a couple tentative strokes. We're talking 13- 14-year olds here, not youngsters. Quite a few held the snake on their own, including the pinecone-hurling girl.

Now she loves it and won't give the snake any peace.

Some are surprised to feel her backbone! Come on, guys, what'd you think snakes were, just big worms?

Bullsnake tried hiding in my shirt, but backed out when she got about half-way in.

Every once in a while she gets in a panic again, breathing heavy and trying to drop out of my arms. So each time I take her outside camp and let her go.

Each time she heads for the paranoid's tent.

We go through this at least three more times.

Wife should be back any second now.

This goes on for an hour and forty-five minutes.

Paranoid and his tentmate are the only ones left who haven't held the snake now. Tentmate says he'll do it, "If Mrs. Grouse holds it."

He's in for a surprise.

The bullsnake and I know each other well by now. If I can get away from the kids, she's fairly content to sit and rest.

The lookout spots the wife's Explorer coming across the mountain top, so we're waiting for her at the trucks. The pinecone-hurling girl's family had left early, and had warned my wife along the road that I had a surprise for her. But not what it was.

Wife's face lights up when she sees who I've got coiling in my arms, and she reaches out to take the bullsnake without hesitation.

I forgot to look at tentmate's face.

Wife grew up with the dark eastern bullsnakes, so really admires the brown and yellow pattern of our western subspecies.

I took the snake again as wife unloaded supplies, and tentmate finally got brave enough to hold the tail. Then he turned to smart back at some other kids and the snake decided to see what was happening with her tail. She slid her head right into his hand.

Tentmate turned back, screamed (Yes, just "like a little girl", literally. Really put a dent in his macho image.) and leapt back four feet.

Bullsnake recoiled too, into the safety of my arms.

(that felt good, I tell ya)

After wife had her fill of holding a snake again, we hiked a little past the other side of the paranoid's tent and let the snake go. This time she made a beeline away from camp, down into the canyon. We watched her long enough to ensure no one else would find her (and to ensure paranoid and his tentmate that she wasn't coming back).

Lot of other fun and neat stuff over the weekend, but the Pituophis was the high point.