It was time for a new adventure. And I wanted to see firsthand, for the first time in my life, The Cahaba Lily.

It’s a famed flower in our area, being very rare, quite endangered, and living in sparse, hard-to-access clumps along the Cahaba River, which is a relatively tiny waterway that winds itself through nearly every suburb of south Birmingham.

So I needed to experience the Lilies for myself. And with my camera. And why not – with my children. So I asked my group of adventurous friends if anyone would like to join us, warning them that this adventure would be in completely uncharted territory and so it was not for the faint of heart or diaper.

The only takers, out of the 20 or so in the group, were my sister-in-law Lindsay with her three kids and Not-Crazy-Renee – but only with her oldest kid this time.

I had a friend, Leigh, who regularly visited these elusive Lilies, who gave me directions on how to get there, including such fantastic advice like “Wear good shoes and watch for snakes…you’ll have to jump over a creek bed…go UNDER the train trestle.”

Sound words.

So we parked in the lot behind the Bar-B-Q place, as prescribed, and set off for adventure.

The first challenge was the “jump over the creek bed.” Either Leigh has Amazonian legs or the last time she went out there it had been during a drought. There was no way us adult ladies were jumping over, let alone our six small companions.

So most of us decided to de-shoe to cross, with a couple others opted for the risk of wet shoes. We got over, re-shoed, and continued our journey. Up the hill,


under the trestle,


up a little further,

Hiking-to-Lilies2and there they were.

The magnificent Cahaba Lilies.


They were bigger than I expected and there were more of them than my companions expected. We were all breathless in wonder of their bright, shining beauty.

It took no time for us to find a way down to the creek, and the kids began re-de-shoeing (in order of bravery) and wading into the creek rapids while I took pictures.

And while Renee found another rock to sit on and said,

“Um. Hey Rachel? There’s a BOOB on my rock.”

I looked over. She was messing with something.


She moved out of the way and I grabbed my zoom lens and focused on the…boob?



The kids noticed the commotion.

Ali asked, “What’s that?”

I asked, “Is it hollow or solid?”

Noah asked, “Hey miss Renee will you go get me that big shell on that rock? IT’S GIGANTIC!!”

Renee said, “Ummmm Rachel? What do you want me to do here?”

I didn’t know what the right thing to be done was but I had to examine the misplaced prosthetic. Lindsay and I scrambled over.


“How did it get lost?”

“My guess is a capsized kayak incident. The cutlet just slipped out.”

“That poor lady!”

“I wonder why it’s so wrinkly…”

“I think it’s just because it’s laying down. I bet if we pick it up…”

Lindsay and Renee both grabbed that breast at once. I grabbed my camera.


This was a bonding moment between the two of them that could never be forgotten. But the hypothesis was right. What a perfect (albeit a bit muddy) boob, when held aright.

So we let the boob live its life and sat around it to take pictures of our children.


And they were fully photogenic, exploring the waters, looking at the flowers but NEVER touching (thank goodness for Wild Kratts drilling into their heads the severity of “endangered”), smelling the flowers, looking for real shells, and in general living The Good Life.






A  train even went by, loudly making the day even grander.


I took plenty of pictures of the Lilies from a distance, but I was aching to get out there. I spent half an hour weighing the risk of tip-toeing out with my massively pricy camera, and finally decided that with Eli’s agility on my team, I could do it. So I called in our most in-tune-with-nature cousin and asked him to hold my hand out to the lilies.

Every rock was covered with tiny shell creatures that felt like I was walking on a bed of nails. And I have terrible balance. But I made it out to the stream to get the pictures I’d craved.



While I was shooting, Lindsay took a picture of me and sent it to my husband. It took his second look to notice the artistically endowed foreground.


Meanwhile, some of our children had ventured fairly far upstream and out of earshot. Renee was worried about them, so she’d gone back up trail to check. After I managed to wade back to shore, I joined her.

Four kids were out on a rock in the stream, and Renee and our youngest cousin, Andi, were on the shore.

Andi had just quite nonchalantly said to the other kids, “We found a snake, guys.”

Renee assumed she was trying to freak the other kids out because she was standing next to Andi and had certainly not found a snake. “Andi, we didn’t find a snake!”

“Well. We found a snake BODY, anyway!” She pointed right where Renee was standing.

There was a fairly large adult snake wrapped in piles over a patch of brush.

Renee came and got me. “Hey Rachel? Andi just found a snake down here. I think it’s a Copperhead. Can you come see?”

“Sure! I follow a snake guy on Twitter. I should be able to tell!”

I went down and examined. “Oh. I think that’s a banded watersnake. Definitely not a copperhead. Harmless! But I’ll take a picture and ask my snake guy.”

FullSizeRender 33

I was feeling just swell about myself, diffusing danger and fear like that, and I began taking pictures of the two kids remaining on the rock, Tessa and Loulie. (Ali and Eli had wandered in the water in front of it looking for neon crawfish.)


They were staring at the clear waters, when one of them yelled, “A snake!!!”

Renee, clearly tired of snake calls, said, “Where? Are you SURE?”

I lowered my camera and looked out in the water. There was a tiny bright orange snake swiftly swimming toward Ali and Eli – with its back arched and its head out of the water and its mouth wide open, angrily showing the white insides of its mouth.

“Oh now THAT is a cottonmouth. Ali and Eli!! GET OUT OF THE WATER!!”

The girls on the rock began freaking the freak out, and Ali and Eli began trying to run on the shelly bottom. Chaos ensued. As Ali scrambled out first, Eli yelled, “We’re supposed to stay together!!!”, and the girls on the rock were LOSING THEIR MINDS.

At one point in our attempt to calm them, I remember yelling over at Loulie, “YOU HAVE A PET SNAKE! Why are YOU freaking out?!” Because I believe in child-shaming, apparently.

The two in-the-water kids were safe, and now it was time to address the two marooned children. Or we could leave them. I mean, they were relatively safe up on the ROCK THE VENOMOUS SNAKE CAME OUT FROM UNDER, as I discovered later when I was editing photos.

SnakeRockLook below the rock right between the two girls.


This is when it’s good to have a Not-Crazy-Renee in your life.

She looked at me with a determined expression and said, “I’m going to get Loulie. You watch my path and let me know if you see the snake again.”

“So you’re just gonna LEAVE Tessa?” (I’m such an encouraging friend.)

“No. But I can only get one girl at a time. I’ll go back for her.”

(Meanwhile, Lindsay was staying very quiet on the trail with the four children we had left. She would be happy to pray for Renee while she rescued their children. Prayer is powerful, y’all.)

Renee got in the water.

Eli yelled from the trail, “A SNAAAAAAKE!”

Renee yelled up at him, “NOBODY say ANYTHING about a SNAKE unless you SEE one at my FEET!!!!

She was in full yoga pants and tennishoes. Surely that would help her rescue the children. Yoga pants are powerful, y’all.

Right as she stepped on a large, flat rock, I remembered that was the very rock I’d see the cottonmouth swim under when it disappeared from view.

I felt this wasn’t the best time to tell her that, and just watched her feet even harder.

She got to Loulie and commanded, “Okay. I am going to GET YOU OFF of this ROCK, and then I am going to PUT YOU IN THE WATER, and we are going to WALK BACK and you are NOT GOING TO FREAK OUT. GOT IT?!!?”

Her voice was impressive – she could lead infantries with it. Loulie obeyed perfectly. They scampered back to shore.

Then she went back for Tessa.

This time I had the forethought to warn her before she stepped on the snake rock.

She looked at me icily. “You let me step on that rock the first time!”

“It was too late. I didn’t want to tell you while you were already there.”

“Good choice.”

She grabbed Tessa and hurried back to shore.


I said goodbye to my beautiful banded watersnake with one last close-up picture, then I scampered up to the trail.


Oh – and later when I checked Twitter…I found out that sleepy, docile, large banded watersnake I’d gotten so up close and personal with? Was also a cottonmouth.

Thankfully, my snake expert @AlongsideWild also sent me a blog post he’d written discounting everything else we read on the internet that day about the extreme aggressiveness of Cottonmouths. They act aggressive, but they really don’t want to bite us.

They’re just a sorely misunderstood snake with anger issues. That’s all.

We emerged from our adventure, amazed that we’d only traversed a third of a mile from civilization – we were sure we’d slipped through a wormhole or out the back of a wardrobe or into a tardis.

As we sat at the playground reminiscing about our day while listening to our children speaking in excited tones to every other kid they could find, we marveled at how the books were actually right. Having an actual adventure is FANTASTIC. And exhilarating and every bit as good as reading a well-written piece of literature. Even with the peril that must also be present to make it an adventure.

We, as well as our children, were over the moon about our travels.

But this post isn’t about snakes. Or lilies or children or even grand adventure.

This post is about The Boob.

And there is nothing more that I want right now in the whole entire world than to see that lonely boob reunited with its rightful chest.


So please, spread the word. Spread it far and wide. Spread it until we find the prosthetic totin’ kayak rowin’ adventurous women that just happened to capsize somewhere near the Cahaba Lilies on Buck Creek so that we can let her know that her boob is there waiting on her. And that it is enjoying the flowers until they return.

Editor’s Bonus: A research collaboration piece from later that afternoon:

Cottonmouth breast

22 thoughts on “The Lilies, the Snakes, and the Misplaced Boob.

  1. “Because I believe in child-shaming, apparently.” Nearly cried laughing at that one :)

    “They’re just a sorely misunderstood snake with anger issues. That’s all.” – I hate snakes (and I try not to use that word lightly, so I really do mean it)…. So glad we don’t have any cottonmouths where I live!

  2. Just today I went on this same “jump the creek bed and under the train trestle” path (after being advised by a certain councilman’s wife, no less!) and was recalled by a kindly Helena Policeman who told me I was trespassing on private property and must leave at once… and that if I and my progeny wanted to see the Cahaba Lilies I could get a canoe or inner tube. Have a nice day. I guess I will just have to order a fake boob online if I wanna see one of those too. Life just isn’t fair.

  3. I like snakes, and I’ll catch them while my hubby gets mad and yells that we should just kill them all and freaks out. But not cottonmouths. Perhaps they are misunderstood, but I’ve had many chase me. One while I was in a car! I am convinced that if I’d rolled the window down further he’d have launched himself in with me. He chased my car down a dirt road. Misunderstood, anger issues, or crazy, I’d rather not find out.
    We use to go canoeing in the Coosa quite a lot before kids. There’s one rapid called moccasin gap. Its not named for the pretty flowers.. :/

  4. What a day! We encountered a snake up-close-and-personal at Veterans Park a couple of weeks ago. I took lots of pictures of it but I only had my phone and none of them came out well. I was so excited, though!

  5. I barely do my backyard, let alone actual outdoors, so I love living vicariously through yours. And the boob! That’s the breast. Er, best. ;)

  6. Being deathly afraid of snakes, even fake ones, I will never venture to the Cahaba River to see the flowers, even though they are beautiful! So, thank you for these adventures and lovely photos! :)

  7. They’re just a sorely misunderstood snake with anger issues. That’s all.

    Best sentence (two) ever. My Grannie (great grandma) saw a cottonmouth while in a boat fishing. She reached in her purse and grabbed her gun and shot it. She didn’t miss. This was when my dad was a kid so I didn’t see it but it’s probably my favorite story of her.

    I’m not sure about the boob though. Is there a boob lost and found?

  8. Freaking the freak out! I’m adding that phrase to my vocabulary immediately!
    And I trust that if by some crazy chance you find the story behind the boob, you will share.

  9. You would have had to give me a Xanax after an experience like that. I would be a terrible hiking companion in Alabama. LOL

  10. I’m an kayak rowing adventurous woman, thankfully boobs intact. Have mercy! I thought I’d read it wrong when I saw the title. Nope. Wow. There really aren’t words, other to say, you certainly DID have an adventure!
    Lillies and snakes and boobs-oh my!
    Glad you were able to find them! I so enjoyed reading. And yes! Probably was a drought last time I walked up that way was Novemberish? I need to go back. The lillies bloom Mother’s Day to Father’s Day. Times a wasting!
    I’ll be on the lookout for snakes and boobs!

  11. Lilies, boobs and snakes oh my! This post had me rolling; and I had to show my girls the Boob which made them laugh, then I read the last paragraph about spreading the word aloud and they were rolling too. How do you mange to have such great adventures? Doesn’t matter so long as you keep writing about them.

  12. Oh goodness this is the best thing I have read in a long time! So so funny. Can’t believe you found a boob just sitting there. I mean wouldn’t you notice if you lost your boob?? Apparently not. You, Renee, and Lindsey are quite the trio! I hope you go on many future adventures to entertain the rest of us!

  13. We ran into Renee and her family at Chick-Fil-A last night, and as soon as we saw Loukie she told us all about the poisonous snake she saw! This story is a classic for sure!

  14. That is amazing! I have lived in Birmingham most of my life and had never even heard of these lilies, but I’m not an outdoorsy person, so perhaps that’s why. Still, the first half or so of your post had me thinking, I should take my kids looking for these. Oh but the snakes. Nope. Not a chance. We will enjoy your pictures, but sadly will miss out on seeing the flowers and the boob in person, lol.

  15. I’m so glad you got pictures of those beautiful lilies b/c I will never EVER set foot near that snake infested creek!!!

  16. We may have cold and snow for almost 6 months a year, but I will take that over the chance of encountering poisonous snakes while out on a hike any day.

    Kudos to “Totally Brave Renee” for going back for the children.

  17. I was gonna say that boob seems more fit for a drag queen, but I can’t say I know a drag queen that would be caught dead in the woods so…

  18. I feel sorry for the lady that lost her prosthesis! Those are EXPENSIVE! I should know, I have two in my closet that I (thankfully) don’t need anymore. Not something you can really donate to Goodwill. I wish I knew the woman who lost hers, I’d send her one of mine!

  19. I’ve never seen the lilies. Probably won’t because snakes and the Cahaba River scare me. There’s a reason it’s called ‘Dookey Creek’ ya know….

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