Hello. It's Papa Bear. Call me PB. No J. As I mentioned last week, I'm a big fan of berries. I recently noticed what appeared to be a huge thicket of blackberry shrub out in the country here in southern Mississippi. The berries I could see at that time were mostly green, and the few black ones were tiny, about 3/8 inch long on average.

Went back to the site today on my motorcycle, all leathered up, with a straw hat and a bucket in the saddlebags. Got there, put on the hat and a denim jacket -- against the sun and the stickers, respectively -- and got down to business. It's early for blackberries in most places, but it's been over 90 most days for the last few weeks, so I was hopeful.

My hopes were dashed. But it wasn't the weather's fault. Instead, I discovered while slogging my way through the thicket that it was a near marsh. Several inches of water over several more inches of mud in many places. The entire spot is in a cutover swath of land under a massive powerline, always a likely place to look for the berries. SOMETHING had to grow where the utility company cuts out the natural growth while putting in powerlines. Might as well be berries.

The plants were there, as were the stickers and a few berries. I got about two cups by picking for an hour. Hard to get to, they were.

And then the snakes started showing up. Two copperheads in ten minutes.

And that's when I split. Yeah, I was wearing 14-inch leather motorcycle boots. But what if the little slitherers aimed higher than that? Most people don't know that a coiled snake can jump at least 2/3 as high as it is long. Meaning that a 3-foot-long snake (relatively small) can jump two feet in the air before biting.

My boots aren't that tall.

A couple of cups of blackberries just isn't worth it.