I've had a recurring memory from when I was 12. We were camping--me, my dad, my older cousin and his family, and small group of environmental activists. My cousin went off hiking and returned a half hour later carrying the limp body of a rattle snake. He claimed to have killed it and buried its head. I've always had my doubts. One of the more experienced campers offered to cook the thing. If you're wondering what rattlesnake tastes like, the answer is butter and garlic. It wasn't great. Anyway, this memory has never left me, So I'm using it as a theme.