Red Touch Yellow Kill a Fellow ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡⁱᶻᵉᵈ

The other night my girlfriend and I were having a conversation about old sayings that have been around for hundreds of years or so, and it made me think of one that I actually use.

“Red touch yellow, kill a fellow. Red touch black, friend of Jack.”

This is an adage that some in the U.S. use, especially in Florida. It’s one way you can tell the difference between a harmless Scarlet King Snake and America’s cobra, the deadly Coral Snake.

I’ve always loved snakes. Growing up as an outdoorsy kid in Georgia and living in Florida for many years, I’ve had many encounters, mainly because I went looking for them lol.

As a boy and young teen, my friends and I would spend countless hours in the woods looking for snakes. If anyone in my neighborhood had a snake issue, they would call me. Venomous or not, it didn’t matter. I would take care of it.

I’ve been bitten many times by harmless ones, and I’ve had some close calls handling dangerous ones. One memory I can still see clear as day in my mind.

I was around 10 years old. My friends and I had been back in the woods fishing this particular creek, and there was like a little swampy area with a trickle of a waterfall about 10 feet high. So I started climbing up it.

There was this one small ledge. As I pulled my head up over it, I came face to face with one of the largest Water Moccasins I’ve ever seen, aka the Cottonmouth. Its head was about the size of a tennis ball, and it was all coiled up, just inches from my nose.

We were staring at each other there for a second, both of us surprised. Lucky for me, it was just relaxing and sunning itself.

I slowly lowered myself back below the ledge, and that was it. End of story.

Later in the evening, after talking with my girlfriend, I still had snakes on my mind, so I decided to go on Wikipedia and read about all the documented snakebite deaths in American history. It was just fascinating.

So many people were bitten while in church and later died. How effin crazy is that? Snakes in church is a whole nother subject for another time.

One story was especially sad. The pastor of this one church was letting his young pregnant wife handle a rattlesnake, I believe it was, and she was bitten. Both she and the baby died, and he had charges brought against him.

Another story was from the 1970s. A woman in Florida was driving one evening and had to pee, so she pulled over on the side of the road and went behind some bushes. She didn’t even know she had been bitten. She thought it was a thorn bush that poked her in the butt.

She was dead the next morning.

It wasn’t a thorn. It was rattlesnake fangs.

Many of the stories are interesting. I’ll post the Wikipedia link below in case anyone wants to check it out.

So let’s get back to the Coral Snake. It’s different from America’s other deadly snakes. Its venom is a neurotoxin, which means it targets the nervous system instead of destroying tissue. There may not be much pain or swelling, but it will totally shut you down and paralyze the diaphragm. The cause of death is respiratory failure. Without proper treatment, you don’t stand much of a chance.

Coral Snakes are Elapids, the same family as cobras, mambas, kraits, sea snakes, and like the brown snake and others found in Australia.

We have 3 species of Coral Snakes here in the U.S. The Eastern Coral, Texas Coral, and Sonoran or Arizona Coral.

I’ve handled some of the Eastern ones from my years living in Florida. From my experience with them, they have been pretty chill for the most part, but not always. I have seen them bite.

At times I would hold them freely without securing the head if I felt that particular one was calm enough. Don’t ever do this yourself. It’s best to not even handle them.

Here’s 2 lil quick stories.

One evening I was sitting out on my enclosed back patio and one slithered close to my feet. I ended up handling that one freely and took it to the woods on the edge of my backyard and released it.

Another time, I was standing in my backyard one morning having coffee and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a fairly large one. I didn’t hold him loosely because he tried to open his mouth and bite a few times, and he showed me his 2 tiny needle teeth.

Elapids have different fangs from vipers or rear fanged snakes. They don’t fold back. They are just lil short, sharp, fixed, hollow needles.

I have so many stories I could tell you regarding my snake encounters, maybe some other time. I’m tired of writing now, and I want to go get some caffeine.

But yeah, snakes are so cool to me. Heck, ya know what? All living creatures are cool. And it’s funny how this story slithered into my mind from a conversation with someone who is the coolest of cool, my favorite living creature, my amazing girlfriend. ❤️‍🔥🐍❤️‍🔥

Cool Snake Pics

A harmless Scarlet King Snake
Eastern Coral
Baby Eastern
Texas Coral, I think or maybe Eastern
Sonoran or Arizona Coral
Florida Cottonmouth

Cool Girlfriend Henna Pics

Link for snakebite stories

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_fatal_snake_bites_in_the_United_States

© 2026 Bryan Loia Hudson. All rights reserved.

`’.,°~

We Don’t Call It Camping… Where I’m From

Have you ever been camping?

Are you kidding me…

I’m a Gen X kid.

We didn’t call it camping…
that’s what city folks say…
when they do it once in a while.

We called it…

the weekend.

…and sometimes in the summer—
it was just life.

Growing up in Georgia…

I didn’t have to go anywhere—

to find it.

I lived on the edge of thick… deep woods…
the kind full of things
that could hurt you.

We weren’t scared…

didn’t matter—

we were in there anyway.

Kids… by ourselves…
no parents…
just dirt… trees… and whatever moved in the shadows.

Then there were the weekends…

My friend Chris—
his folks had land on Lake Oconee.

Man… we lived out there.

Tents…
or just sleeping by the fire…

Fishing… boating… skiing… swimming…

Great times.

And when I wasn’t there…

I was with my dad… and my uncle…
heading up into the north Georgia mountains…
along the Tallulah River.

We’d drive about 15 miles down a narrow gravel road…
till we hit the river crossing.

Then we’d drive straight through it.

Clear water…
ice cold… even in summer…

on the other side—
was nothing.

No people.

Just us…
and whatever else was out there.

Bears…
Bigfoots…
timber rattlesnakes…

just the locals.

We’d set camp right on the water…

Fish all day.

Rainbow… brown…
beautiful native brook trout…

Trout for breakfast—
fish… grits… eggs…

Lunch—
fish sandwich… chips…

Supper—
we went all out…

Grilled or fried fish…
vegetable kabobs…
baked potatoes in the fire…
salad…

We ate like kings out there.

I’ve caught so many fish in that river…
I couldn’t even guess the number.

Been going since I was about 7…

I’m 52 now.

Haven’t been in a few years…

Life gets busy…

…but that place is down in me.

Some summers…

the riverbanks would glow red—

tiny garnets everywhere.

We’d sift through them…
looking for the bigger ones…

We’d also look for gold…
found some too.

I remember once…
I had a handful of decent-size wild garnets and gold… glistening in my palm

but that place for me—
is more valuable than anything I can hold.

Then came Florida…

Lived there for 12 years.

Different world—
same soul.

Many freshwater fishing trips inland…
spent much time at many of the different springs…

…but also the coast…

I lived on Anna Maria Island…

Had a sea kayak.

Weekends…
I’d load up my truck…
drive to Bishop Harbor…

Drop in…

Paddle 45 minutes out
to these tiny… remote islands.

Set up camp.

Mornings—
I’d paddle and fish…

Afternoons—
back to camp…
eat… rest… chillax…

Evenings—
back out till dark…

Then nights…

just me…

the fire…
the water…
the sounds…
the wildlife…

Alone…

but not really.

Down there…

we call it…

Salt Life.

Had the sticker on my truck and everything.

So yeah man…

I’ve been what yall call camping
a few times 😁

All jokes aside…

I’m about that life.

It’s in me…

just like music.

been singing this in my head and on guitar all day…

Me and my buddy Jonathan… fishing in Florida

Jon and I were fishing when 3 huge wild boars walked behind us

My friend Jimmy holdin’ my fish… this is my pb 9.3 lbs… caught at Lake Istokpoga FL… Feb 2o14
Supper one evening on the remote island

Romans 1:20

“For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.

© 2026 bryanforchrist. All rights reserved.

`’.,°~

The Day I Held a Wild Vulture…

When Fear Had Feathers

In 2012.. I was running on spiritual fumes.. living and working down in Florida.. driving an 18-wheeler and hauling orange juice concentrate..  Most days I’d head down to the seaports.. wait for the massive container ships from Brazil.. then hook to a bulk tank and run it to one of the orange juice factories scattered across the state..

One day.. I was rolling down a long.. deserted.. country road in the middle of nowhere when something big.. black.. and winged shot across my path and smacked the front of my truck with violent force..

It happened so fast I couldn’t tell what kind of bird it was.. I just prayed it wasn’t a bald eagle—there were plenty of them in that area.. Whatever it was.. I knew it had to be dead.. No way anything could survive the hit I felt.. My anxiety climbed as I pulled over and walked to the front of the truck.. preparing myself for the worst..

But when I looked down.. lodged in an open section near the bottom of the grille.. was a huge black vulture—one of the largest I’d ever seen..
And it was still alive..

For a few moments.. I just stood there.. trying to process what I was seeing.. The bird was incredibly calm and strangely quiet.. It looked right at me with an expression I can only describe as.. “Please help me…”

There was no way I was going to grab this thing bare-handed.. I was certain it would lash out with its beak.. So I found a big stick on the side of the road and tried to pry it loose.. No luck.. The bird was wedged tight.. and part of it was pressed against the radiator—which was extremely hot.. I knew time wasn’t on its side..

I kept trying with one hand on the stick and one on a wing.. but it wasn’t working.. I was starting to make it worse..

Eventually.. I realized the truth..
I was going to have to pick this thing up with both hands..

Fear hit me hard…
But I also knew I didn’t have a choice..

So I took a breath.. Said a small prayer..
Had myself a quiet ellipsis moment haha..
Then reached in..

I put both hands on the bird..
To my surprise.. it stayed gentle—completely calm.. completely trusting.. Its eyes were locked on me.. almost talking.. It knew I was trying to help.. As my fear faded.. a strange confidence grew.. I grabbed all over its body.. trying to find the angle to free it.. At one point.. I even had my hands around its neck and head.. carefully working it loose..

Finally.. with one good pull.. the vulture came free..

I lifted it high in my hands.. expecting it to explode into flight—but it didn’t..
It simply rested there…

It had just survived something that should have killed it.. and it needed a moment to breathe.. The amazing thing was… it wasn’t even injured.. not a broken wing.. not even a wobble.. nothing…

We stood there together for about a minute—me holding it.. it staring at me..
No fear on either side..
Just this strange wild peace…

Then it looked at me one last time.. as if to say thank you.. turned.. and flew…

I climbed back into my truck and drove on.. replaying the moment in my mind.. I still can’t believe it survived the impact.. Not only survived it—walked away completely fine…

And then the old saying hit me..
“Tough as an old buzzard…”

Now I understand where that phrase came from… those birds are built like tanks..
And on that day.. something wild trusted me — enough to rest in my hands… an indelible memory…

…….↓⚡→🛻⇂⇂⇂→🪶😨→🤲†🦅→🤲🤝→↑🦅✨’……….↓~→|⇂⇂⇂→v?→/†^→/↢→↑^*’

Wow… i just googled ‘tough as an old buzzard.’ to see how it came about.. I knew none of this…

(Where it comes from) The phrase “tough as an old buzzard” grew out of american frontier language in the 1800s.. early 1900s.. People on ranches.. homesteads.. and in desert regions watched buzzards (vultures) survive things almost nothing else could survive.. blistering heat.. drought.. storms.. rotten food.. injuries.. and just plain rough living.. Why a buzzard specifically? Because vultures/buzzards are famously hard to kill…………
Cowboys and farmers noticed that even old.. beat-up buzzards still lived incredibly long and stayed sharp.. Their survival was legendary…

It all makes sense to me now 😁

And I relate……….. I’m also famously hard to kill 😁.. but that’s another story for another day… 😎`

© Bryan H. 2025 — All Rights Reserved