Hikers Warned to Be on Lookout for Rattlers

The warm days of spring, along with the mating season, are beckoning snakes, including rattlers, from under woodpiles and out of rodent holes and overgrown vegetation.

An 18-year-old hiker in Calabasas was declared the area’s first victim of the season earlier this month when he inadvertently stepped on a rattlesnake hidden in the brush. The glancing wound was not serious, and the victim was treated at a hospital and released.

But officials are issuing warnings and posting signs in parks alerting people to be wary of where they walk, reach and sit.

Of the 33 species of snakes in California that help control the rodent population, only six are venomous--all of them rattlesnakes, according to the U.S. Geological Survey’s Western Ecological Research Center.

The southern Pacific rattlesnake is the region’s most common, wildlife experts say. The Antelope Valley and some areas of the Santa Clarita Valley are also home to the Mojave rattler, the most dangerous snake in the United States, according to the agency.

Russ Smith, curator of reptiles at the Los Angeles Zoo, recommends that residents renew their knowledge, and respect, for the serpents whose territory we have invaded.

“They might not be cruising around the neighborhood just yet, but they are out getting some sun,” Smith said. “We’re getting longer periods of daylight, and that gets them active.”

Smith predicts “an above-average year, as far as reptiles are concerned,” because El Nino rains two years ago resulted in the growth of lush vegetation and fueled an increased rodent population. In turn, the ample food supply supports more reptiles, he said.

In the event of a close encounter, Smith recommends, “Stop. Let it do what it is doing. The snake will be retreating as he is rattling.”

Most people are bitten while trying to catch a rattlesnake, he said.

Darrell Wanner, natural areas supervisor at Placerita Canyon Nature Center, Newhall, can attest to that.

Just after noon July 3, 1997, a brush fire erupted across the street from the nature center, forcing evacuation. Wanner rushed to save the center’s menagerie of wild birds, reptiles and amphibians.

Hillary, a 3-year-old rattlesnake, was highly agitated by her instinct to flee the heat and smoke when Wanner snatched her just behind the head. Instantly, he felt the pinprick of a retractable hollow fang as it sank into his right index finger.

“I knew she got me,” said Wanner, remembering the incident that landed him in Henry Mayo Newhall Memorial Hospital for six days. “She was upset and I was rushing too fast.”

Wanner knew he had to stay calm, that panicking would make his heart race and speed the spread of the venom, a protein enzyme that ruptures the blood cells and paralyzes the victim.

“I know about snakebites,” Wanner said, as Hillary slithered up to the glass of her aquarium. “Your worst enemy is yourself.”

Wanner said he didn’t know how much venom the snake had injected.

Hatchlings let loose with all they’ve got, which makes them particularly dangerous, even before they develop the telltale rattles on their tails. “Road kills,” too, can pack a wallop, even though dead. But an adult rattler--like most viperids or pit vipers--can administer a varying dose, depending on its intentions.

Hillary and Wanner have been at the nature center since just after the 1994 Northridge earthquake. Hillary was 14 inches long--slightly larger than a hatchling--when she arrived, a refugee from an area resident’s backyard. Now about 6 years old and 3 feet long, she’s bigger than most southern Pacific rattlesnakes her age, “a chow hound” as Wanner calls her, fed a steady diet of small rats every three weeks.

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Hillary had a mate for a while, a rattler Wanner named Bill. But Bill refused to eat in captivity, so Wanner released him deep into the Angeles National Forest, as he has done with about 50 other snakes that intruded into populated areas of the nature center or were brought in by residents.

Many times, residents capture or kill snakes they mistakenly believe are rattlers, Wanner said. Displayed next to Hillary is a southern Pacific gopher snake, named Al Gore. That one struggles a bit with eating because of a crooked lower jaw, believed to be the permanent result of a collision with a spade.

Next to him is a California king snake, called Clarence Thomas. A rattler will cringe at the sight of a king, which is impervious to venom and eagerly preys on rattlers within its domain.

Despite the bite, Hillary is Wanner’s favorite.

“She’s a good specimen,” he said. “Most snakes [on display] just hide under a rock or something. But she’s always showing off, posing for the camera. She likes to be seen.

“She drapes across the rocks very seductively,” he added as Hillary moved sinuously onto a ledge, flicking a forked tongue to sense the odor of her onlookers.

The snake’s antics obviously impress Wanner more than the memory of her bite does. When it happened, he said, he wasn’t worried but knew he needed to get medical aid and the first doses of antivenin within three or four hours. He also knew not to lance the wound or attempt to draw out venom. Such steps can cause further damage and introduce bacteria into the wound.

Applying a tourniquet, too, is risky. When a tourniquet is loosened, the trapped toxins are suddenly released throughout the body, which could kill the victim.

After Hillary was evacuated from the fire zone in a portable aquarium, a sheriff’s deputy volunteered to take Wanner to a hospital.

By that time he was feeling a tingling, followed by a numbness in his right arm. But halfway to the hospital, the deputy was ordered back to the fire scene and Wanner was deposited with a paramedic crew and its ambulance. There he sat, for what “seemed like half an hour,” he said, while the crew filled out paperwork and awaited orders to transport him.

“My arm started to throb, to ache real bad. I could see it swelling bigger and bigger. I felt nauseated.”

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It was nearly four hours before Wanner received any antivenin, made from antibodies developed by horses injected with small amounts of venom. The patient must first be tested for any allergic reaction to horses, Wanner said.

The naturalist said the hospital stay was the worst part of the ordeal.

He felt cooped up, and the medications used to counter pain and the venom made him feel sicker. He finally pestered the doctors into releasing him.

As Wanner was admiring Hillary recently, two Canyon Country women asked his advice in dealing with rattlesnakes.

“Never hike alone,” he said.

And if bitten?

“Stay put and stay calm while someone else goes for help.”