This from guest blogger, Nancy Graham, whose blog, Oswegatchie, is a constant source of  wonder. She recently spent some time at her family’s camp in the Adirondacks, where she wrote this post.

I keep hearing stories about aggressive snakes.

"At the swim hole we were chased out of the water by one. It slithered out of the water onto a rock after us and stared at us."

"They say they stay away from you but if you go in their territory they come after you. They’re not poisonous but they’re biting."

"Are there poisonous snakes down there? Because I was bit on the heel."

"This copperhead bit me three times and wouldn’t let me get to my studio."

Why won’t a copperhead allow an artist into his studio so he can get some good political art finished?

A friend and I discussed it this evening and decided they are out of patience with us. They know we’re the ones ruining the weather. They know it’s us dropping bombs on their sistren and brethren in the drier climes. Dirty bombs, yet. It’s over for your species, they are saying. We’re taking back the planet. Go swim in your toxic chlorinated pools and leave the swimming holes to us. Or else.