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This is a true story. In 1989 I was backpacking up near the headwaters of the Chattahoochee river. When backpacking, I carry a small, fold up fi shing pole and reel. After I had fi nished setting up my tent, I walked down to the river to fi sh. Sitting on the bank was an old mountain man with a long string of trout fi sh he had caught. I walked over and in my best non-city accent I said, “Hoo wee that’s sure one fi ne mess of fi sh.” “Why thank ye young feller. I use little green frogs for bait. Here watch, see how I tie the hook to one leg? I do not stick no hook through the frog, no siree. After tying the hook to one leg I loop the fi shing line and tie the line to the other leg. That a way, the frog is hobbled like a prisoner and can’t swim fast. That’s my way of fi shing. Would you like to try? Here’s a little green frog.” “Yes sir! Thank you very much.” I almost lost my accent I was that surprised. We introduced ourselves. His name was Lightning Giles. Lightning, he related later after we talked for a bit, was his nickname. He handed me this little green Frog. Well, I went down stream to fi sh, far enough so I would not disturb his fi shing. I tied that frog on my hook just like he had showed me. I cast over toward the far bank. The river is not very wide that far into the mountains. I had just started slowly reeling that frog in when I noticed a ripple in the water over against some reeds on the left. The ripple was moving toward the frog. I thought wow! This is my lucky day! Here comes a fi sh. Then I saw that it was not a fi sh making that ripple in the water but a poisonous cotton mouth water moccasin snake. I quickly started reeling in my little green frog as fast as I could with that snake gaining on him. Just as I pulled my little green frog out of the water that snake reached up and grabbed hold of his hind quarters and he would not let go. There I stood, leaning over, holding that teeny, tiny, little, peewee, pocket-sized, 18 inch fi shing pole, stretching out as far as I could, jiggling that pole, trying to shake that poisonous cotton mouth water moccasin snake lose. I will tell you the truth. I do not care much for snakes. I could maybe like them a little bit, if they had legs, but they don’t. Luckily, I had some mosquito repellent with me. The kind you take a swallow of and as you cough you blow obnoxious fumes around to get rid of the mosquitoes. We call it Black Jack Daniel’s Mosquito Repellent. Well I fl at out tossed in a mouth full with my free hand. Leaning down, I lined her up and blew a mouthful of that Black Jack Daniel’s Mosquito Repellent straight into that snake’s mouth. Ha wee, she sure enough spit out my little green frog, spun around on her tail and dove down, out of sight, I guessed she needed a water chaser. That was an interesting experience. Well anyway, what I wanted to tell you about was this. On the second cast I caught an enormous 5 pound, 4 ounce, wild native mountain trout fi sh. I missed the World’s record by 1.8 ounces. I was excited because at the time I knew I was close to a record catch. I was unhooking that trout fi sh when I felt a bump, bump, bump on my ankle. I looked down and there was that poisonous, cotton mouth, water moccasin snake at my feet. She was holding two little green frogs in her mouth. She wanted to trade up for some more of that Black Jack Daniel’s’ Mosquito Repellent. I had never bartered with a snake. I took a good sized mouth full, leaned over and blew two driblets into her mouth. That was just what she wanted. She set the two little green frogs down, already hog-tied with vines so they couldn’t get away. The snake reared up on her tail and she licked me right on the lips. Now don’t be surprised. If you use enough of that mosquito repellent you too can kiss a snake. Well she and I fi shed the rest of the day. That venomous, reptilian, cotton mouth, water moccasin snake, what could I do? I started calling her Wiggly Sidney. I do not know why, other then I always did prefer to be on a fi rst name basis with fi shing partners. Wiggly Sidney snared and supplied the trussed up bait in exchange for the mosquito repellent. I went back to camp about dusk with a fi ne mess of cleaned and fl ayed fresh fi sh for supper and they tasted just like chicken. Not the big one I caught fi rst. I had him mounted. If you come by my place, you can see him on the wall. Next to a picture I took of Wiggly Sidney swimming in with a couple of little green frogs tied to seven inch leashes. She’s swimming and there dangling one on each side of her mouth. I wish I had a picture of Wiggly Sidney trying to swim home that day. That poor old snake was lurching and straining to swim home sideways as drunk as a skunk. If I hadn’t of been there to see it with my own two eyes I would never have believed what I saw that day, but I was there. Friends have asked how I knew she was a lady snake. Well that’s easy I only kiss ladies.
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