Don't always take a stick for granted

I rode the entire Lower Trail from Hollidaysburg to Alfarata today.

As far as sights were concerned, it was the norm -- lots of trees, water and birds. That's about all I see every time I ride this trail.

In the last quarter mile of the trip, however, I was more focused on making it back to the car without my legs buckling or my back giving out.

That's when I noticed a black stick lying both on the trail and in the grass.

"Weird," I thought. "Sticks don't tend to be that dark."

That's when I remembered the last time I saw a "black stick" like that. It was at Trough Creek State Park, and it looked something like this:

Who knew sticks could be so terrifying.

I realized it was a 4-foot-long black snake.

I'm not sure of the exact name, but I'm assuming it's a black snake, or "one of those things from your nightmares."

This is only the second time I've ever encountered one of these without the security of a glass case between it and me. When I crossed paths with the one at Trough Creek, however, it seemed passive. As long as I kept my distance, it didn't move much. I figured I'd have similar luck with this one.

What I failed to recognize was the Schwinn bicycle is the natural predator of the black snake. When I got within feet of it, the snake lunged up and twisted in midair in an attempt to make a 180-degree turn to get out of the way. But when a snake gets airborne, I take it as a sign of "It's time to die."

I swerved a bit, thankfully in the opposite direction, and the snake slithered off.

Both of us came out of the ordeal unharmed, and I learned two valuable lessons from the experience.

1. Don't always take a stick for granted.
2. Bike shorts are very absorbent, in respect to urine.