{"id":32042,"date":"2025-10-01T12:32:54","date_gmt":"2025-10-01T16:32:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/ncseagrant.ncsu.edu\/coastwatch\/?p=32042"},"modified":"2025-10-07T09:09:18","modified_gmt":"2025-10-07T13:09:18","slug":"fall-2025-snake-hunting-one-summer","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/ncseagrant.ncsu.edu\/coastwatch\/fall-2025-snake-hunting-one-summer\/","title":{"rendered":"Snake-Hunting One Summer"},"content":{"rendered":"\n\n\n\n
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\u201cHis purpose was not simply to catch snakes \u2014 he was trying to extend the range of some snake or another to the west of its known range in that part of the world, and to do so for The North Carolina Museum of Natural History.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
When I came back South from New York City for the summer of 1971, staying in an old house full of musicians on Farrington Mill Road just below Chapel Hill, one of the other tenants was a lanky, guitar-playing flat-picker named Larry Dunnegan. He was also a surfer who spent considerable time re-glassing his surfboard, set on a pair of sawhorses in the front yard. And he was a sophisticated amateur herpetologist who often talked snakes when not picking \u201cBlackberry Blossom\u201d or sanding the board. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
One July day Larry told me he was going snake-hunting in northeastern North Carolina the next day. As I was familiar with much of the territory he was aiming at, I lit up and sounded a blanket approval of his pursuit, and he invited me to go with him. We would leave that night about 9 p.m. after he got off work, drive to somewhere, sleep in the truck and then start hunting at dawn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Never having been a snake-hunter, I immediately said yes. He said we would go all day tomorrow and return once we were done.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
*<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Next morning at first light we woke up slowly, cramped and sore from sleeping upright in Larry\u2019s faded-red early 1950s Ford pick-up truck, parked at a sand mine at Potecasi, west of the Chowan River. The eerily isolated place with its huge sand piles hard by a swamp felt like somewhere that might have shown up as a set in a Twilight Zone show. We got out and stretched and Larry climbed up in the truck bed, pulled out some gear that his spare tire had held down: a number of empty jute feed bags and a couple of narrow-headed weeding hoes, \u201cto pin the snakes down by their necks, so we can grab \u2019em and put \u2019em in the bags,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His purpose was not simply to catch snakes \u2014 he was trying to extend the range of some snake or another to the west of its known range in that part of the world, and to do so for the North Carolina Museum of Natural History, where he had a longstanding relationship with the director. So, I learned there in the swamp-surrounded sand mine that we were actually on a mission, ennobled by being in service of the State of North Carolina.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So off we went. Anywhere Larry spotted a piece of tin, usually near an old shed or tobacco barn with its roof coming apart, he pulled the red Ford off on the road shoulder, whereupon we would hop out to Larry\u2019s battle-cry of \u201cLet\u2019s turn some tin<\/em>!” <\/p>\n\n\n\n