Avoid Gettin' Snake Bit! A Chronicles' Classic

© 2008, 2009, 2010 Albert A Rasch and
The Rasch Outdoor Chronicles
$g&m f9bd 45kd q!?5.

Charlie and I where just finishing up our morning jog. Charlie doesn't seem phased at all, with his four legs and all, but you know the point, where your lungs are burning a bit, and your legs are getting that leaden feeling? I was there. But I hadn't reached my marker from two days ago. I had thrown down a palm frond where I had stopped the last time. I try to get a few yards further every day.

There it is, just a few more paces.

As I am ready to drop my victory stomp on the frond, what do I see, but a coiled up, venomous serpent that has taken up residence on my frond! Through a magnificent and supreme display of physical prowess, that would hav emade Hercules green with envy, I heroically lengthened my stride, and my Vibram soled and booted foot, fortuitously for our poison toothed friend Mr. Cottonmouth, landed a couple of feet beyond his pointy little head.

Pygmy Rattler... Beats me what I did with the cotton mouth photos!

Ornery little boogers!
Should be in the woods away from civilized folk!

"This just won't do!" I thought to myself. Lots of folks walk their dogs around the ponds and children fish and play around them. More than likely it would find itself being beaten to death with a stick. Pulling the ever curious Charlie back a bit, I searched for a small branch I could pin him down with. Finding a suitable one, I wrestled his uncooperative and fiesty body down and put a head lock on him.

Mr Cottonmouth moments before I felt the sharp end of a fang.

As I mentioned in my previous article Cracks in the Sidewalk, Theses smaller cottonmouths are squirmy little bastards. This one was no different and just grazed my finger with the tip of his fang. Fortunately there was no penetration whatsoever. But that sure put my heart into overdrive!

I don't know how many of my readers are youngsters. For you kids reading this, remember a couple of things:

• Mr Albert has been doing this a long time.
• I have a great respect for the danger involved.
• Parents, and especially Moms, will make your life miserable if you do stupid stuff.
• Just because Mr Albert cusses occasionally and while under duress, doesn't mean you can.

For you older readers:

• Take your kids out more often. I know as well as you that you're busy, but make the time.
• Don't do stupid things unless you know the consequences and are willing to accept them.
• Don't blame me if you get snake bit!

I did a little research when I got back in the house. The anti-venom for a Cottonmouth bite is called Crofab Crotalidae Polyvalent Immune Fab (Ovine). It is critical to get anti-venom in the patient as soon as possible to minimize necrotic damage to the tissue and coagulopathy. Coagulopathy is a fancy word for bleeding like Hell from every orifice in your body. The anti-venom works by binding to the venom toxin and neutralizing it, so the sooner its in you, the sooner it gets to neutralizing. Now it has mercury in it, so I'm not convinced that the venom is any worse than the cure. But if I were bit, I probably wouldn't worry about the potential for mercury poisoning! If you are allergic to pineapples or papaya you could be in it deep too! You can read all about it here on the Drug Sheet.

I also bumped into this: Snake Bite News. I don't know why, but it is very dated; the last entry is May 2004. I'll see if I can track the owners down and get an update on it.

While we are at it, lets go over the basic steps to take if you or anyone you know has been bit.

• Call 911.
• Get everyone away from the snake. No sense getting someone else bit!
• Try to identify the snake. No, don't ask for it's name, just try to figure out what kind it was.
• Keep the victim calm. Nothing speeds up envenomation like a wildly beating heart.
• Keep the struck section lower than the heart.
• Do not give the victim anything to eat or drink. Period.
• If the victim has been consuming alcohol, and this was caused by stupidity, assist the victim to a standing position, and ask the victim to bend over. While bent over have him kiss his own ass goodbye.
• Get them to a hospital immediately. Try to call ahead so they are ready!
• DO NOTs: Do not ice the injury down, do not use a tourniquet, do not cut the victim up like in the westerns, and above all, DO NOT PANIC!!!

You can make a judgment call. If the hospital is close enough that you know you can get there before an ambulance can get to you and then back to the hospital, and you know you can do it safely, then do it! Every minute counts in treatment. Remember coagulopathy!

Well, we got back without any more incidents. The rest is anti-climatic, I took him to my shop, put him in a bucket, and later today I'll take him to a preserve somewhere where he can hopefully pass the rest of his days in peace and tranquility.

It is late in the evening now, and I have had the opportunity to educate some more of my neighbors. Two little ones were playing on the playground, so I thought I would give one of my impromptu nature talks. I cleared it with their mom and using all my skill and smarts, was able to allow these kids an opportunity to see and touch a real live snake. I really need to catch a good sized red or yellow rat snake. Far safer and less nerve wracking than a cottonmouth. Now both of them can identify a cottonmouth and they know it's very dangerous! We also talked about alligators, and about not playing near the ponds.

And cattle egrets,
     American goldfinches,
          St. Augustine grass,
                pine bark nuggets,
                    concrete...

Best Regards,
Albert A Rasch™
Member: Shindand Tent Club
Member: Hunting Sportsmen of the United States HSUS (Let 'em sue me.)
The Hunt Continues...

Though he spends most of his time writing and keeping the world safe for democracy, Albert was actually a student of biology. Really. But after a stint as a lab tech performing repetitious and mind-numbing processes that a trained capuchin monkey could do better, he never returned to the field. Rather he became a bartender. As he once said, "Hell, I was feeding mice all sorts of concoctions. At the club I did the same thing; except I got paid a lot better, and the rats where bigger." He has followed the science of QDM for many years, and fancies himself an aficionado. If you have any questions, or just want to get more information, reach him via TheRaschOutdoorChronicles(at)MSN(dot)com.

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Brady Campaign: You May Have to Put on That Red Dress Afterall...

Brady Campaign Sells its Membership List

Crap, and I'm on its email list too!

Brady Campaign Membership Numbers

Turns out they are so broke, that they are selling their membership lists. Interesting thing is that the oft quoted figure of one hundred thousand members, is really about 28 thou...

Check it out at Joe Huffman's Blog

Quick post from Ali Al Saleem

Albert

It's Hotter Than You Can Imagine!

© 2010 Albert A Rasch and
The Rasch Outdoor Chronicles
$g&m f9bd 45kd q!?5. trochronicles.blogspot.com

Hello my faithful friends!

Well I'm in Kuwait transporting an individual who will ultimately go to the United States. (If he's lucky!) I'll be here for a couple of days, and luckily they have internet that actually works regularly, unlike Bagram where it is so oversubscribed that it crawls like sea cucumber in the Arctic Sea.

But that's not why I'm touching base with you, the big news is how freaking hot it is here!

Can you believe 115 deg in the shade? How about 130 out in the open! The breeze makes it feel like a convection oven, and I kid you not, while I walk, the sun hurts on the palms of your hand. And it's not like I walk with my palms up or out or whatever. No, I'm talking normal, fingers slightly curled, swinging the arms, normal!

Click on the picture for a bigger view!

Poor little sparrows looking for some shade and water!

Under all the A/C units, the condensate makes little pools that last for a few hours in the morning, and disappear as the heat builds up. Seriously, the water evaporates before it hits the ground. The birds also spend quite a bit of time under the buildings, in the shade.

So far I haven't bumped into any of the cool desert denizens, like the scorpions and vipers, but there is still a chance if I look hard enough. My luck I'll find a land mine via the Braille method. Not conducive to good health!

Speaking of land mines, I've made friends with some Mine Clearing Specialists from Mozambique. These guys are the cat's meow in mine clearing. They can enter a mine field, spot a twenty-five year old mine by the way vegetation is or isn't growing, or by the way the soil lies, or by some voodoo witch doctor magik, and then tell you if it is double stacked, (Real nasty Soviet trick,) and whether it will rain later. Anyhow, I'm going to tag along and see if I can learn something, it should be a blast!

On another note, the boys in uniform have been whipping the daylights out of the Talibannanas regardless of whatever the damn papers and news say. Yes it is going to take some time, they are crafty, wicked, and cruel, but we have the better people, the greater minds, the high moral ground, and by Thor's Hammer-

I'm here!

I really miss the lot of you, and wish you were here so I wouldn't feel like I'm hogging all the dust and grime. If anyone wants any, I'll be happy to send you all some.

Remember your friends and loved ones that are here.  Send them a letter, a small parcel of their favorite goodies, and your prayers and love!



Best Regards,
Albert Rasch
Member: Bagram Tent Club
Member: Hunting Sportsmen of the United States HSUS (Let 'em sue me.)
The Hunt Continues...

An American Combat Classic: A Chronicles' Classic

© 2009-2010 Albert A Rasch and
The Rasch Outdoor Chronicles
$g&m f9bd 45kd q!?5. trochronicles.blogspot.com Randall Model 18, collecting Randall knives

"It was a terrible thing at close range. Your knife, would cut a man's head nearly off with a quick swing.. I also used that knife to open cans, cut wood, dress water buffalo... and it stayed sharp. I was offered all kinds of trades, but I wouldn't part with it."

A letter to Bo Randall

"The only thing between me and certain death was my Randall Model 18."

One of Albert's wished for stories...

Randalls have always held a certain mystique with the American fighting man. I remember distinctly the Randall on the hip of the 10th Group Special Forces A-Team medic we were training with at Ft Devons. Of all the items hung on or about his person, the Randall drew the most admiring glances and whispered commentaries. I don't think there was any one of us, who dreamed of being a professional soldier, that didn't want a Randall of his own. Grenades were dime a dozen, but a Randall... the man must have been an artist.

More years ago than I care to remember, my good friend and fellow Norwich Cadet, GoGo,presented me with what many would call the ultimate soldier's gift: a Randall Model 18 Attack and Survival knife.

There was little ceremony when he handed the package to me, as is fitting between men, professionals, and with the proper respect for an artisan's tool. He had it wrapped in a worn piece of cloth. I knew by the weight that it was metal, but I had no idea what was in store for me.

I'm big on the whole gift giving and receiving thing. Rule number one: Don't rush me. I'm usually the last one to unwrap gifts at Christmas. The experience has to be savored, enjoyed, drawn out. Not just for your own personal enjoyment, but for the spectators too. Once its unwrapped the wonder is gone.

I raised an eyebrow when he handed it to me. I felt the heft of the object in my hand. I had a feeling that there was more to this, that I would be pleasantly surprised.I carefully pulled one fold over, and then the next. I paused to savor the suspense that was building.

I love the suspense.
Well, maybe not when I'm standing in the door at 3500 feet, watching the world drift by at 125 mph, or worse yet, while waiting for the reassuring slam of you rig against your nether regions that lets you know the static-line pulled your chute out of the bag. But otherwise, I do like the suspense.
As I pulled the third corner, I got my first glimpse of tanned leather. I lifted the final piece of fabric up and out of the way, and the whole of the gift was there for me to experience. A Randall. And not just any Randall, but a Model 18.

I knew what it was right away. I looked at Homeslice in wonderment. He had that smug look of someone who knew that he could hit a homerun whenever he wanted to. He's good, really good.

I've taken that knife with me every time I've needed the cold comfort of a soldier's knife. I can get the Randall in places that my Gov't 1911 can't go. And at less than 21 feet, its even money which is faster... Or deadlier. It has been a constant companion for well on twenty years.

A Florida orange grower, Bo Randall started his knife making career in the late '30s. His hand forged knives sold as quickly as he made them. As they were very popular and he enjoyed making them, he decided to go into the business so-to-speak, selling them out of his Father-in -law's clothing store. But it was World War II that catapulted him to knife maker extraordinaire. A journalist's news item, picked up by the wire, spread his name throughout the United States, and the American fighting men throughout the world. Orders poured in and Bo had his hands full making the knives that helped to finally overthrow the Fascist tyranny engulfing the world. They skewered Nazis and Imperials with equal gusto and aplomb.

As time went by, new models and adaptations were produced. The Model 18 came about during the Viet Nam era when an army doctor designed a variation of the Model 14. Instead of the solid handle and extra heavy tang, he wanted a hollow handle with a cap and sawteeth along the top of the spine. Randall worked the design over, improved it, and came up with the Model 18, probably the first survival knife to feature those adaptations. The earliest models had a crutch tip as the butt cap, but that was quickly changed to the threaded brass butt cap.

The Current Model 18 is available in two blade lengths: 5.5″ and 7.5″ with a choice of either O-1 tool steel or stainless. It has the dual-edged blade, with the sawtooth edge covering three-quarter of the length on top. The handle is made of stainless steel, measures 4.75 inches, and has a removable brass butt cap as mentioned previously, with a neoprene O-ring to keep the handle waterproof. The hilt is an elliptical piece of quarter-inch brass, carefully hard soldered in place, with holes for a wrist strap. Mine has the additional feature of a compass under the butt cap.



The sheath is a wonderful piece of craftsmanship. Heavy, supple, but not too supple, it is welt stitch. Strategically placed holes allow parachute cord to be used to secure the sheath and the knife.


I wrapped the handle of my Model 18 with parachute cord. All I did was half hitch it each turn. This gives it a nonslip grip and adds about ten percent more cord to the wrap. Useful when you need every inch of it. Underneath the paracord is a single layer of copper wire. Quite necessary for snares. A small wooden bobbin in the handle holds 30 feet of twelve pound test monofilament, a couple of splitshot weights, and several #8 hooks. Matches should be replaced by a magnesium striker, and I suppose a small piece of fire starting material should be in there too.

I have been fortunate that I have never had to call upon the Randall. Knowing what I do about the care and craftsmanship that goes into each and every Randall knife, I have no doubts that when called upon to perform as needed, it will be ready.

Randall Knives
Albert A Rasch
The Hunt Continues...

It's Tuesday at the Mess Hall, That Must Mean...

They're serving the same crap, just a different day! LOL

Hello everyone!

Well, what an eventful week we've had.

The Talibannanas have just up and gone suicidal!

Hold on, they do that all the time anyway. Let's just say they upped the loony quotient ten-fold this time around. Remember that whatever you're reading in the papers is nothing close to what's on the ground. They are not sufficiently organized, they lack the firepower, nor do they have the ability get enough loons together to "over run" a base regardless what the NY Times says. Most of the time they end up causing us to expend several thousand dollars of small arms munitions and showing them an early release from their mortal coils and a one way ticket to hell.

Having said that, sometimes they get lucky and ram a car full of explosives into a bus full of their own people, and blow up the one or two Westerners that happen to be on it. But the damned fools will never, not ever, win going toe to toe with the brave and resourceful young men and women of the United States.

Well my idea of having a post all done up and ready for publishing fell afoul of yet another military security measure. No thumbdrives allowed. All the ports are disabled so you can't plug anything in! Seems some mellon headed Colonel left a thumbdrive lying around, a local national stole it, it ended up at a bazaar where a private bought it, and much to his surprise he found it full of unencrypted secret squirrel stuff! Surprise! What else is new...

Well friends, I'm off to the flight line to check things out and make sure we are keeping everything safe and secure! Sometimes it's just a matter of keeping ourselves from doing harm to ourselves. Remember the Soviets left this place just chock full of party favors! In some cases they have even double stacked their exploding parting gifts! Clever fellows... But my Mozambiquans are cleverer.

I miss the day to day reparte we've had over the last few years, but soon enough I'll be back again for more fun and frolic!

Remember stay vigilant, stay safe!
Best regards!
Albert

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