The rattlesnake eggs are packaged in a small white packet. On the packet in bold black letters it tells me; 'Rattlesnake Eggs, $1.75'. I shake the packet. I hear the dry rasping of the eggs inside. Were I in the woods of South Carolina I would stop. Listen. Look. Shiver.

But I am not in South Carolina. I am in Georgia at a road side truck stop. Tourists stop here too. JL and I are not tourists. We are shrimper men on our way to Saint Augustine where the trawler sets tied to the dock waiting to go to sea.

Styrofoam cup full of hot bitter coffee in hand I wander out side the large building still thinking about rattlesnake eggs. Rattlesnakes birth their young live. The little sqirmies are loaded with venom and ready to hunt. I would be mighty disappointed waiting for my rattlesnake eggs to hatch. That is if I were a tourist and I bought some.

A short distance from the truck stop building is what appears to be a green house. It is built very close to the ground for a green house I think. On closer inspection I see it is in fact a large array of solar panels. The panels look like glass and are shiny black. The sun reflects blinding rays from the black panels. I think how neat for the truck stop to be solar powered.

Back in the car JL and I continue our journey to Saint Augustine. Arriving there we meet JL's father at the seafood dock. JL's father also owns the trawler. We go to the grocery store to buy food for our journey down to the sea.

I am disappointed with the skimpy quantity and quality of supplies they purchase. I have a bad feeling about this trip. I am beginning to wish I had stayed in South Carolina building a house for five dollars an hour. At least that was sure money and relatively safe.

But maybe we will make a lucky strike out in the ocean. Maybe we will be high liners dragging nets sunrise to sunset. And and then again maybe not. It is the way of shrimping.

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