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The dark shades of the heavy forests were seldom brightened by a ray of sun. The stream was full of alligators, that lay lazily on the banks all day, and bellowed dismally all night. The chirp of a bird was rarely heard. In its place were the discordant screams of cranes, or hisses of the moccasins or cotton-mouths.
And finally I never found a snake or snakelet that I would turn my heel upon to flee, and for the very good reason that the animal in question always runs first. So, ye manufacturers of snake stories horrific, amusive, or instructive, put that against your tales of blacksnakes, copperheads, cotton-mouths, horn-tails, water-mocassins, and the whole tribe else.
"Nothing but yellow-bellies and once in a while a brown moccasin. I used to worry myself half sick over them, but after seeing Chris Meyer wade through bunches of them in the Big Cypress without paying any attention to them, I got ashamed of being afraid, and now I don't mind moccasins much unless they are cotton-mouths."
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