It was only recently I realized that copperhead snakes swim in the Nolichucky River in East Tennessee, my home.

Even though I grew up not far from its winding, omnipotent current, I didn't want to admit that, like me, copperheads need to cool off now and then.

After years of basking in the sun and swimming in the river, I finally saw a copperhead last summer. It was coiled on the sandy beach like a useless, rusty hose suddenly sprung to life; its small head greeting the air, kissing it. My friend Debby asked me to hold onto her dog, Sammy.  "It's a copperhead,"  she said.

I don't remember what happened next except that, now, I live in Washington, DC.