The Opp Rattlesnake Rodeo

by T-Bone

Get a small-town high school football stadium, fill it with lots of people and thousands of rattlesnakes, toss in a few country and rock bands, a greased pig, a half-naked man in a pit of vipers and a Rattlesnake Queen - and you have a yearly event that will pull folks in from hundreds, maybe thousands, of miles.

Several Southern towns have rattlesnake rodeos. The one I know and love happened in Opp, Alabama. This bizarre event started in 1959 and is still going on, but I think its popularity has waned a bit. Not sure why. With reality TV, “Jackass”, Simon Cowell, Jerry Springer, Steve Irwin (RIP) and Jeff Corwin, seems like this kind of thing would be bigger than The Risque Cafe on I-95 South.

For many years in my youth, The Opp Rattlesnake Rodeo was a watermark for entertainment in South Alabama. This herpetological exhibition was a huge cultural event for people who didn't get to see much culture and even fewer events.

Imagine Six Flags with snakes. Imagine Snakes on a Plane, in a car, in your grocery store, and on your plate. You could wear a snake, race a snake, milk a snake, eat a snake, and watch a woman crowned with a snake. Opp was the Super Bowl of Snakery.

Each year, a local service club collected all the rattlesnakes that were fit to rodeo and kept them fed, fat and happy until the big snakefest. Then it was three days of "Who Let the Rattlers Out?"

They painted a big circle on the concrete at the corner of the stadium, put numbers on the snakes and had a snake race. If your snake won, you got some flaky snaky prize.

To add an athletic angle, there was professional wrestling too, featuring an assortment of beer-engorged rednecks beating each other with folding chairs from the First Baptist Church fellowship hall. One year the pro wrestling ring didn't show up and the bad ol’ boys in tights unhinged their fake wrestling repertories right there on the asphalt. Insurance agents gathered around. Lawyers made their way ringside.

On the same circle where the mean snakes raced, a large and heavily follicled man worked his choreographed moves, not inside traditional wrestling ropes but inside crime scene tape provided by the local police department. His opponent had clearly missed a few practices. It was all grunt and fun until Hairy Bubba body-slammed Slacker Bubba and his head cracked open like a ripe melon. He was okay, though. Just a head injury.

Some fellow called Omar the Snakeman stripped down to his boxers and got into a pit of vipers with a microphone. He proceeded to lecture anyone who'd listen about "snake safety." Wouldn't the first rule seem to be, "Don't get into a pit of rattlers?"

I chased a greased pig at Opp one year. He was not that big, but he was wily and smart. It was not grease either; it was KY Jelly.

That pig was slicker than a runny nose in first grade. Now and then someone made contact with the speedy little runt, but the combination of viscosity and agility thwarted any serious grip and the pig always squirted away. We chased the slippery porker all over the football field, up into the stands, and then the pig found a hole in the fence, heading across Highway 84 toward Florida. Freedom.

The snakes were not so luckily KY'd on their slithery way to snake heaven.

Experts would milk all of the rattlesnakes, filling gallon jugs with yellowish venom to be used for anti-venom. Some snakes were as massive as creosote poles, their girth requiring several men to support while the milker coaxed the wicked fangs into the stretched jar-top fabric and squeezed the thick, poisonous glands. Once milked, the snakes were beheaded and skinned.

The skins were used to make hats, boots and purses. The remainder was cleaned, battered up and deep-fried into a slithery feast. Yes, just like chicken.

Like so many beauty pageants of that era, The Rattlesnake Queen competition attracted many of the area's lovely young ladies. I always wondered why any pretty woman would want to be crowned with a Rattlesnake Rodeo tiara, but they lined up and sang and danced and played the piano for this dubious honor year after year. Nothing like a beautiful girl with a rattler draped over her shoulders to make you want to drive an F-150 about 100 mph.

The strangest thing about the Opp Rattlesnake Rodeo was that there was no rodeo at all - just a bunch of extreme redneckery amid snakes being eaten and bad rips of Allman Brothers and Lynyrd Skynyrd. Freeeeeebirrrrrd.

The best line I ever heard there: “You gonna eat that viper, bro?”

Comments

[Karen Copeland]

Love this! See, I'm one of those crazy rednecks from Opp whose father was very involved with that "local service club" that helped start that event. Heck, around here the "Rattlesnake Rodeo" was 'bout as big as Christmas!

I was doin' a little research because I was getting ready to blog about this wonderful event and found this! Believe me, I'll be back to read again!

[Joe]

I went to the rodeo in 1985 and really enjoyed watching the greased-pole climbing and bug stomping (great for a belly laugh). Do they still have events like these? Thanks

[honymoninopp]

getting married friday and heading to opp al for the rattlesnake rodeo.

[Mike]

I remember Omar the Snakeman from my childhood! We would see him at the fair in Nashville in the late 60s / early 70s!

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