© 2002-2008 |
2004 Dogpatch Field TripWritten and compiled by Torry Chapman.
Special Thanks to the Following Wonderful People!--
Species AccountsThe following is a completed species list of herps and other interesting critters we encountered on the trip. We didn't see that many snakes but the list is quite long, regardless. Newton and Boone Counties, Arkansas, June 11-12, 2004
* This specimen was originally identified as a Cave Salamander. "In search of the Shmoo"--- a first hand account by Brad Birchfield......As we topped a hill, coming out of a real curvy section of road, a mixture of the Derek Trucks band in my cd player and Jody reading aloud, the story of Dogpatch USA's financial demise filled my ears. We passed the city limits sign for Deer Arkansas, and as we drove by a Kingdom Hall of Jehovah's Witnesses (there is a kingdom hall in Deer?), we noticed five, yes FIVE cop cars with blue lights-a-blarin, basically blocking the road. It looked like the crime of the century (at least for Deer) had taken place and we were privy to a show. But, as I approached, THE MAN (who was tippn the scales at about 400, by my guestimation) was waving me on, and when I got up to him, he sorta freaked out and was like "WHOAH, WHOAH!" Then, he proceeds to tell us that they are having a "compliance check" and needs to see my license, registration, and proof of insurance. Well, beins that we are in Deer, Arkansas at 10:30 on a Saturday night, I thought it in my best interest to cooperate fully. While I was diggin for my information, two other Newton County's finest said another car was approaching and turned around. They quickly jumped into their cruiser(s) and were off like Roscoe P Coltrane after the Duke boys. The other officers at my truck, asked "You boys been.....uh,.......hiking?" as he examined the contents of the back of my truck with his mag light.(at this point, I had played out a scenario where officer "A" strolls around to the back of the truck, takes out his nightstick and bashes the breaklight out of my truck and says "Earl, look here, looks like we got us a broken tail light back here...) I said "Nope. Been to Dogpatch looking for snakes...." "Did you kill 'em?" "NO!" I said. I guess I needed that little jolt back into the real world to remind me that the Dogpatch trip was officially over. But what a weekend it was. Now, I don't know about you, but Dogpatch was not something I loved as a kid. It was fun, but not like Six Flags or even Silver Dollar City. I remember being excited when mom and dad told us we were going to Dogpatch, but I also remember thinking when we got there "this is it? Where is the roller coaster, the dolphin show, the pirate ship?" Nothin but a bunch of hillbillies. We could see all we wanted of that at home in Mountainburg. Still, it was fun and we have a lot of good memories there. I suppose I should set the stage for this weekends adventure. My brother Jody and I left Mountainburg at about 6:30. That's a little late if you are trying to get to Jasper Arkansas, but it was Friday and I knew those in attendance would still be awake when we got there. Besides, I had all the beer. We took what I call the "scenic" route, basically a diagonal line across the Ozark National forest from Mountainburg to Jasper. It took us through such metropoliti as Dutton, Nail, St Paul, Pettigrew and about 15 other one-horse towns. Needless to say the discussion of "what do these people do? Was the subject of many conversations, although the countryside is quite breathtaking in some places. We arrived at the willow creek campground around 9 pm. Since it was dark and I was unfamiliar with the location, we came close to becoming intimately familiar with Willow Creek, but after a tense 4G turn in the 'ol ford, I regained control and glided into a gentle meadow bordered by a creek. Near the creek, we saw a group of tents and after seeing a "Snake Lover Parking Only" sign, we decided we were at the right place. When we got out, I recognized one Mr. Glen "aka copperheadman" Chapman approaching with a welcoming outstretched hand. After a short introduction of my brother, we were accosted by one Mr. Tyler Chapman, eldest son of Glen and Torry. Tyler already new my name and gave me a big high five as we walked over to the campfire and picnic tables. Glen's wife Torry Chapman had prepared a big stockpot full of some dang good chili, complete with cornbread and cheese. I must say, I am not used to such fine qui-zine at a campground, as I would normally be eatin some saltines or some lukewarm lunchmeat. A big thanks for the chili, it hit the spot. Next we met (although at the time I didn't know it) Tom "aka tommyboy" and his brother, Mike. They came up from the little rock area. Then we met Justin, who is from Fayetteville, and "classic" Robert, also from Fayetteville. . After giving an exciting blow by blow of the now infamous Ozark Atrox story, Justin, Mike and his brother Tom decided to go road cruising on a stretch of road south of Harrison. They returned in about an hour with a dead copperhead that looked to be about 24 inches in length. Sadly, it was freshly ran over, and really not even expired. After getting a consensus from those in attendance, Justin decided to skin it out, so into a Ziploc bag and into the cooler it went. About 10 or 10:30 (the beer starts to goof with my time awareness) Robert "snakeman1982" Jadin pulls up with a woman named Brenda. Brenda is a biology girl, with primates as here specialty. Ironically, as Robert introduced her as such, I noticed Tyler Chapman jumping from limb to limb of a short willow tree nearby and I thought it odd. From that point, it was good 'ol campfire talk. Lots of subjects were discussed. I must say I count myself lucky to have run onto others with similar interests (namely snakes). I learn a lot every time we get together and I appreciate how nice everyone is. Never have I felt any kind of condescending attitude and that is rare among a group of people with such vast knowledge of a subject. As the evening dwindled and the pile of aluminum cans at my side grew, one by one, people started turning in. I guess part good conversation and part being fired up about herping, I felt like I could go on all night talking, but at 0200, me and Mr. Jadin, the last of the campfire conversationalists, called it a night. The next morning, we woke up to a brilliant sunrise and a good cup of coffee perked on the campfire. Not sure why, but it just makes stuff taste better. About 0900, after bathing in 'off' and other repellents we were all ready to go. In a way, it might have been good that Chance, or anyone else for that matter, did not try to "find us". The entrance road is obscured from the main highway by lots of vegetation and unless you knew what it was, you would drive right by. Since we had permission from the landowner, we drove in through a dark, double canopy forest and were stopped by a makeshift outhouse that someone had left in the middle of the road. Justin, the Little Rock crew and Glenn made short work of it by flipping it off the road. Underneath it, they found a scorpion, and a toad. From there, we parked the cars and started wading into the overgrown jungle that used to be Dogpatch USA. It was pretty neat looking at the links we found online about Dogpatch. I was not that aware of my surroundings as a child, so I couldn't depend on my memories for directions. The pictures online however, gave us some ideas on where stuff was in relation to other stuff. I have to say; it was one of the most surreal feelings in the world to be walking down a paved road among signs advertising fudge, rainbow trout, and "computer pictures" strewn on the ground. The closer you looked at things, the more you realized this was not a typical closing. I would assume, most bankrupt properties try to sell off a bunch of stuff to recover whatever money they can when they shut down. Not the case at Dogpatch. It was as if, on a Friday, the boss got on the intercom at 5 pm and said, "ok guys, we're closed, don't come back tomorrow..." and they locked the gates and left and never returned. I would have been interested to see what it looked like in the fall of 93, soon after it closed. Nowadays, I would say that there is nary a piece of unbroken glass in the park. Every building/structure on the grounds has been heavily vandalized. I was cautious, but very curious, so I soon found myself inside the administrative offices building sifting through mountains of papers. Among those of interest, a memorandum dated Sept 9 1984. It was to all employees from the VP of operations...basically it said "Due to the recent accident on the scrambler, it has become apparent that we need to pay more attention to detail in our jobs....anyone caught performing their job incompetently will be terminated immediately." Needless to say, I kept it. Other interesting finds: W2 forms, un-cashed payroll checks, feminine hygiene products, I could go on for hours. An inspection of what used to be the trout hatchery revealed empty tanks where the baby fish used to be kept until they were large enough to release. The water still flows freely out of the spring. And it is still COLD. From the looks of the bodies of water though, I think it has long been fished out. At this point, Robert Jadin and I broke off from the main group and hiked to the top of the hill(more like mountain) on the east side of the park. Let me say, I think Robert thought I was gonna have a coronary, and at times, I did too, but eventually, we made it to what used to be the entrance/visitor center. Still on the tracks, sat the 'ol tram that took you up and down the mountain, to and from the park. There was still a sign touting that the whole mechanism came from Switzerland, which I am sure impressed folks back in the mid 60's. Outside to the south, across the massive parking lot is a fence (which had a no trespassing sign on a tree that was not visible until you had already trespassed) that we crossed. Behind it sat another abandoned building that looks like someone is trying to repair and a large, vacant swimming pool. Make that vacant to swimmers, but home to about a hundred bull frogs, chorus frogs and no telling what else. Down in the pool, Robert found a pristine unoccupied box turtle shell. I picked it up and was gonna give it to Tyler, but when I noticed it was missing back at the bottom of the hill, there was no way I was goin back up to get it! Sorry, Tyler. Once at the bottom, we had a short rendezvous on the walkway overlooking the "grits mill". The waterfall is still running and below in the lagoon, you can see the half sunk remnants of a boat ride. After some home video review we discovered, the "log" boats where chained together and drug behind a powered boat for a trip up this section of the creek. At the other end, marbles falls; the 85 ft deep (my guess) canyon where the overflow water empties. A short walk from there, you come to the old foot bridge across the lagoon I mentioned above. It was almost wide enough for 2 cars to pass side by side. Now, it is quite dilapidated. After a stress test by Justin, and we did appreciate that first trip across, brother, we decided it was safe to pass, but safer if we went one at a time. Nothing more calming than being about 40 off the water on boards that move about 4 inches up and down when you put your weight on them. It keeps you humble. On around from the bridge were the infamous kissing rocks. Two 10ft high busts of a male and a female (I think) head with lips puckered, preparing to kiss. They seem to have weathered the dilapidation pretty well, but someone, probably in our party, had placed a nice pair of blue panties on the nose of one of the sculptures. Speakin of panties...Glenn and Torry had spied a nice frilly pair of red one a couple of weeks ago on their reconnaissance of the area, so they had picked them up. With tongs. I was presented with these panties in an impromptu ceremony on the bridge overlooking the grits meal. It was touching. After we had a picnic lunch at the vehicles, we decided to go back to camp because the sky was starting to darken with the afternoon storms that are so typical this time of year. Once at camp, the lady that owned the campground came by and told us she would give us a ride to where she GUARANTEED we'd find a cottonmouth. So, Robert Jadin, Justin and myself decided to accept her offer. I must say, you really get to know someone when your are crammed in the back seat of a jeep with 2 other adult males. A short ride down a rough road through a field and we had arrived downstream on the same creek that bordered our campground. All three of us "experts" were unsuccessful at finding anything more interesting than a tadpole. Other than the refreshing water, it was pretty much a waste of time. Back at camp, we were sad to see Mike and his brother Tom head back to Little Rock early. After we sat down to rest and the sky got real dark. Torry and Glenn had thought ahead and had a canopy ready to set up in case of rain, so we quickly assembled it. Underneath it, the remaining 9 huddled together as what could best be described as a monsoon unleashed its fury on us for about an hour. But again, typical to the Ozarks, after about an hour, the sky cleared and the day finished with a beautiful sunset. After a short discussion, we decided to head back to Dogpatch. We figured at least the rain might bring out some herps, and besides, we were right there. Back in the park, we commenced to retracing the same tracks we made in the morning, remembering where a good piece of board or tin was and where not to waste time looking. Also, by this point, we were pretty much moving as a group as opposed to everyone doing their own thing like in the morning. This freed up everyone to do a little more inspecting of the sloped roof "cabins" that litter the Dogpatch landscape. In one, the remnants of the "old timey" photo studio, complete with a muslin background that had long since fallen on the floor. In another, a fudge shop I think, colorful booths, one with a napkin dispenser still on it was eternally waiting for a customer to eat a funnel cake on it. Behind the counter, still posted on the wall were the "codes" for various emergency situations. Justin listed them off methodically, but I was laughing so hard, I don't recall any specifics. Wait.....I think there was one, like a "code 4" that was "emergency, non-life threatening," Or some such. Next, we invaded some small theatre where we were entertained by a clogging Justin (folks, you really need to see the pics of Justin to appreciate this) and a saucy snake dance by Brenda. From there, I think the exhaustion of the day was really getting to us as Glenn and I decided to climb the 50 ft tower that held a big water slide. Now, this is one of them slides like at "big splash" or "whitewater" that is at about a 65 degree angle (mucho steep)and you basically skip across the water like a stone because you are going so fast. I like to refer to them as "the big splash enema" if you get my meaning. Well, Brenda and Justin had joined Glenn and I at the top. Getting up there was half the battle- some of that treated lumber is getting a little too soft and creaky. But it did not deter the push for the summit. On top, we enjoyed a magnificent view of the park. Justin had mentioned that he was going to ride the slide down, but I think we all thought he was just joking. After I had arrived safely back on the ground, I heard the sound of Justin ripping up some OLD astro-turf off the top of the tower and before I knew it, he was perched at the mouth of the chute leading to the ground. It all happened so fast, but I do remember telling my brother Jody, "and this is where the sound of laughter is replaced with screams, and panic." Next thing we know, Justin, who is wearing a pair of overalls with no shirt, is clinging tenaciously to a 2'x2' piece of carpet and gravity is taking over. I would say the first 30 or so feet he was in control, but that last 20ft, he was exceeding any hope for a safe stop. Now at the bottom of this ramp was a flat place that emptied you into the "skipping trough". There was about 4 inches of old, stagnant, infested with God knows what water standing in said flat place. At the moment of impact, it looked much like an explosion, and in the soft evening sun, it was beautiful and scary all at once. Shortly after tumbling forward and catching himself before a nasty case of road rash, Justin rose to his feet with his hands above his head. My brother's words said it best: "100% balls ladies and gents, pure balls." This presented somewhat of a problem for Justin as he was soaked now. After a polite request to the ladies, he abandoned those overalls and continued herping in a pair of boxer shorts and boots. Nothing else. Again, I cannot put into words, the way this whole situation would have looked to the casual observer. After this, we all made a pilgrimage to the infamous "kissin rocks" on the bluff that borders the marble falls canyon. The railroad bridge is still there and is in much better condition than some of the other bridges. Crossing it, however, is a little more exciting since there is 12" gaps between the railroad ties and in those gaps, it's a long way to the bottom of the gorge. While several of us were out on the railroad bridge, Glenn, who was perched on a "shelf" on the side of the gorge, started yelling to us. Due to the crash of water from the falls, we could not hear what he was saying. Come to find out there were 3 snapping turtles in the creek below the falls and one of them was an alligator snapper. The bad news is, there is no way to access the pool of water they were in, short or rappelling off the bridge, and no one planned to do that. Justin, the two Roberts and I followed the train tracks on around to the man-made tunnel the train went through. Inside, someone found a salamander, but the type escapes me. As the day wound down, the two Roberts went off on the old "stagecoach road" in lieu of crossing back over the railroad bridge. After I crossed over and took a couple more pictures of the falls, we noticed the two Roberts approaching with a bag. The excitement level, at least among the snake lovers, skyrocketed. When the bag was emptied onto the pavement, it revealed a downright pretty red milk snake...which are fairly common, although this specimen was the largest and prettiest I have ever seen. It measured about 24"-30" and was big around as a cheap cigar. The red coloration on it was brilliant compared to the dull yellow of the bands. For something found native in Arkansas, it was pretty impressive. You would have thought we found the Holy Grail the way the camera flashes were going off, but we wanted to have a good record of this find, which was a first for Newton county. We didn't find "many" snakes, but this find erased all the disappointment. Back at camp, Torry and Glen came through with some hot dogs that were outa sight, then for dessert, Chef Justin cooked up our little copperhead buddy in a skillet with butter, salt and pepper. Now I know some of you are grossed out, but this thing was actually pretty good, just a little tough. Now you would have to kill a mess of them to get a meal, but it was better than a lot of things I have eaten, I'll promise ya. Important to note, my brother pointed out that not only were we eating a copperhead, it was found dead on the road. SO, there you go. Road kill for dinner, a perfect end to a perfect weekend. Thanks to everyone. Brad |
