I’ll never forget the time a friend and I, in our teen-age years, put a stuffed, coiled rattlesnake next to the back door.
As she was going into the house, my mama didn’t see it until she was about a foot away. My friend and I knew we were in big trouble when we saw her reaction, heard her yell, and scram from the house.
Whew, did I catch hell over that one!
I think I’ll skip the Sweetwater roundup. It would bring back that bad memory. My mother’s bite was worse than any rattlesnake’s.