As you drive north on the county road west of the Knudson farmhouse, you will see a mountain on the right that comprises much of the old George Knudson acreage. There are two geological features that readily catch the eye; these features are limestone caves that were fashioned by wave action when this region was an inland Cretaceous sea. The dominant rock formation into which these caves are carved is the Edwards Limestone formation that was formed, according to science, 135 million years ago (during the Cretaceous Geological Period). The shale and clay around the lower flanks of the mountain (underlying the Edwards Limestone) is the Walnut Clay Formation. Throughout the Mustang valley, smaller white limestone rocks dominate the landscape. These smaller rocks are probably also from the Edwards Formation. The mountains in this area are erosional features carved and sculptured by seas during the Jurassic and Triassic Periods. The slopes of the mountains are the results of weathering and gravity erosion long after the seas subsided.

      The cave commonly called the goat den, or bluff, is approximately twenty feet wide and about six feet deep and is large enough to shelter goats (or early natives) from the cold north wind. The bluff toward the south, (the snake den) is not as large, but it, too, has served as a natural shelter from the elements. The deep cracks and crevices in the rock provide shelter for many smaller varmints and snakes. The dominant tenant in the far reaches of this cave is the Western Diamondback rattlesnake (Crotalis atrox). For as long as I can remember, I have heard stories about the snake den. I have personally captured many rattlers from this den, as have other snake hunters. I remember in 1963, catching 28 rattlers. They ranged in size from twelve inches to five feet three inches. I also remember one Easter morning my brother, Bob, and I killed two rattlers measuring over five feet in length.

      Grandpa also told stories that involved the snake den. Once I was sitting up on top of the den with Grandpa looking over the beautiful valley below. From this vantage point you can see all the way to the Gap. It was on that particular day I asked him who first discovered the snake den? The story he told is as follows: 

One Sunday afternoon when I was a small boy, we had a bunch of people over to the house for dinner. The Hastings, I know, were there along probably with Uncle Hans (Hanson) and probably another family or two. There were three or four kids there my age, so we decided to go hunting up here on the mountain. We got my .22 rifle and headed toward the mountain. We climbed up the east side because it was easier to climb. We wandered around on the southeast point of the mountain...then worked our way toward the west slope of the mountain. Over on the south edge of the den there used to be natural rock ledges just like steps. The steps made climbing very easy. You could not see the snake den from down below as it was covered up with trees and underbrush. It looked a lot different back then. Well, we were just standing around looking out over the valley, when all of a sudden I just started running down the steps toward the bottom. As I ran, Molden, Tilden, and the others followed. As I stepped on one of the ledges, I saw snakes sunning themselves on the rock ledge. I stepped right in the middle of them and instinctively yelled, “snakes!” I jumped to the side, but my momentum did not allow me to stop. When I finally stopped, I saw that the others who were following me had successfully detoured around the snakes. By the time I got back up to where the rattlers were, they had already begun to crawl back into the cracks and openings behind the stone steps. I don't know how many there were, but I guess the only reason I wasn't bitten was because it was early spring and the snakes were not very active. Boy! That was really a scare. I did manage to shoot two or three, but they soon disappeared into the rocks.

We ran back to the house and told Pa what we had discovered. I guess up until that day no one knew there was a rattlesnake den up here. Some time later, Pa had a man come over with some dynamite to blast the den. I remember the man setting the charges in several places over there where the rock steps were. There were several holes and cracks back in there where a snake could den up. We were all excited as we waited for the man to set off the dynamite. The shot blasted large rocks high into the air...there was a tremendous amount of dust that filled the den, and a dust cloud marked the sky above the den...those large boulders at the bottom of the mountain ended up down there because of the blast. The blast destroyed the rock steps where I discovered the snakes. After the dust cleared, Pa and the rest of the men looked for snakes. They found only one or two rattlers, a couple of chicken snakes, a prairie runner, and I believe one copperhead. I didn't know until that day that different kinds of snakes would den up together. I guess most of the snakes had crawled deeper into the rocks and the blast didn't hurt them.

I remember a fellow everyone called "Mountain Goat." I found out the reason for his name that day. Before the blast he crawled all over the snake den inspecting every little nook and cranny, looking for snakes. He crawled around on all fours just like a mountain goat. He spent more time crawling than being on his feet. After the blast, he continued crawling and inspecting the den. I'll never forget how comical it was seeing that fellow crawling all over the place. I thought he looked like a hound hot on the trail. 

      One winter back during the 1940s, Grandpa and his boys chopped much of the cedars and brush from the slope beneath the den. When many of the Spanish oaks died out during the drought in the 1950s, that also helped clear the view.

      When I was a kid I used to make a stop by the snake den when I was out hunting. I thought this was really "wild and woolly" country up on top of the mountain, especially around the snake den. I have many memories of sitting on top of the snake den (under the Spanish oak) waiting to get a close shot at an unsuspecting buzzard.

                                JMW/March 1983

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