John had at least one uniquely sawed-off talent. He could hold his breath (at the surface) for six and a half minutes; I myself, a shorter but adequate, four and a half minutes.
Back in the good old days, when the swimming area of the Black Lagoon was restricted only by ones spirit of adventure, he would free dive down to the bottom at around 110ft. The ascent is the dangerous part because pressure helps breath holding and if you’re going to black out you do it near the surface. So our methodology was for me to start down as John started up and travel with him from about 50ft to the surface with the plan to do something constructive if he passed out while still under water. I bring this up only because the performance one evening at the headwaters of the Wacissa River required all of John’s breath holding powers to achieve the desired effect.
John owned a Volkswagen beetle, trunk in the front, and I was in possession of a water snake surplus. So one evening I talked him into taking me and about a dozen good sized Natrix to the sandy parking area just downstream of where the Wacissa River came out of the ground on the outskirts of the town of Wacissa.
When we arrived there were two middle-aged regular sportsmen standing at the water’s edge. They looked to be discussing something like a planned fishing trip or possibly some detail of the wide area of mostly vegetation covered water that is a standard North Florida river swamp. Id est a place where there are already too many snakes.
As we slowed to a stop I told John, “Do not say a word”. Without drum roll, I got out, John popped the ‘hood’ and I lifted the snake filled bag out of the trunk. John maintained silence but he was doing a lot of looking back and forth at me and the two men because he knew what I was about to do. What I did was slowly, and individually, pull snake after snake out of the bag and dropped it back in the river.
The best part of this story is not mine to tell as the best part is the version told by the audience. In the event nobody said a word. The two men were literally speechless. I’d give a lot to know what, or if, they ever spoke of the event or concluded that it was best left without comment. Sawed-off sportsmen occasionally have that effect upon others. For John’s part he almost killed us on the drive back because when he finally burst forth he just kept yelling ”Putting snakes back in the river, putting snakes back in the river” while he pounded the steering wheel as we headed home.
ML
6/7/07
