I can’t wait to look death square in the eyes and nervously ask for my snake-catching stick.

            On Saturday I will accompany Sun Post outdoors columnist Don Moyer on one of his routine trips into snake country for a chance to battle the rattlers of the Central Valley.

            Every time I think of catching rattlesnakes I picture Aladdin trapped in the embrace of Cobra Jafar.

“Perhaps you would like to see how sssssnakelike I can be!”

            Maybe my rattlesnakes won't be as tall as the Sultan’s palace, but these are no de-venomized reptiles we are talking about, and I am no Steve Irwin.

            I’m not exactly the most accident free person (that’s not a restroom comment), and I am sure most of my friends and relatives are taking bets on whether I return alive. I think there is still a pool going for how long until I total my car — again.

            But I will handle these predators with the utmost care, and don’t plan on making any mistakes that could turn fatal. When I see a rattlesnake slithering in the tall grass or basking in the glow of the sun on a rock, I am going to approach with the same “stealthyness” of when I am approaching that last piece of pizza in the box.

            I’ve handled snakes before, and as a kid, did my best to chase down the gopher or water snakes I could find roaming somewhere around the wilderness of Ripon.

            I’m sure Mr. Moyer will do his best to educate me on the best way to avoid a rattlesnake bite, but if I don’t make that scheduled interview next week, you can probably guess why.