The Lights Are Off

I knew we’d encounter an abundance of wildlife out here in the woods and around the lake—but I wasn’t expecting an abundance of snakes. And let me be very clear: I don’t do snakes. In fact, I have a full-blown, medically-named, no-thank-you kind of fear. It’s called ophidiophobia, the abnormal fear of snakes. Although, if you ask me, there’s absolutely nothing abnormal about freezing in terror when you spot one while swimming.


Silly me—I hadn’t even considered the idea that Patoka Lake had snakes in it.


It was Thursday, and Gary, the dogs, and I had driven down to one of the boat ramps to enjoy a picnic lunch and go for a swim. The beach had been closed due to flooding, so the boat ramp seemed like a perfect Plan B—easy water access and no crowds.


When we arrived, a young man was already set up and fishing. He casually informed us that he’d spotted a cottonmouth snake slithering off into the woods—and also found five ticks on himself. I laughed off the ticks—I’ve become a pro-level tick remover lately—but a poisonous snake just five feet away? That stopped me cold. My blood pressure spiked. My heartbeat relocated to my throat.


But, in a rare moment of bravery (or denial), I sucked it up. I reasoned that the odds of that snake wanting to return and crash our lakeside hangout were probably low. “Snakes are more afraid of us than we are of them,” they say.
(Hogwash, I say.)


So, we encouraged the dogs into the water, and Gary and I dove in too. It was instantly refreshing, and for a moment, I let my guard down. Even Lola, who typically avoids anything wetter than a puddle, waded in up to her chest.


And then, just as we were starting to relax…


We noticed a head bobbing through the water, a mere ten feet away. “Turtle?” Gary wondered.


My internal alarm went off like a siren: NOT. A. TURTLE.


It was a snake. Definitely, undeniably a snake—swimming toward us with zero hesitation.


I shot out of that lake like a cartoon character. Screaming, I grabbed the dogs (who were very confused but happy to follow), and ran. Gary, of course, stayed a moment longer. “That was kind of cool,” he said, admiring the reptile like it wasn’t Satan with scales. Eventually, we made our way back to our peaceful, cozy RV, where the only wildlife we had to deal with were ticks, ants, flies, and the occasional clueless camper.


You know, the normal stuff.