Do animals have fun?

</element><element id="paragraph-1" type="body"><![CDATA[Summer has come, just about gone and I still haven't seen the first rattlesnake. This is probably not something most people would complain about.

I love to drive on Oak Road between the Delwood area and Williams Hill. As the sun grows fat and red in the west, copperheads slither out on that road to soak up the last of heat trapped in the pavement.

One evening last October I saw three copperheads in the span of a couple of miles. In July I was remembering those snakes while driving on the road and, sure enough, the thought was no sooner in my head until I saw a copperhead ahead of me on the road.

Some swerve to mash the snakes, but not me. Slither and let slither is my motto.

It is tempting to say I am a guest in the snake's world, but that is not true. The world is as much mine as the snake's. Neither of us asked to be born into it, but here we are, two creatures moving, eating, sleeping, carrying out our respective bodily functions, hoping to live another day and for a bit of joy along the way.

Can a snake experience enjoyment?

Why not?

The copperhead could stay in the dark woods as the day cools and hole up for the night. I could have taken the more direct route home and settle in for the evening.

Neither of us did.

The snake wants to bask on the warm pavement in comfort. I want the lonely country drive for no reason other than to take in the scenery. Who am I to say the snake doesn't experience joy? The snake could well say humans don't experience joy. Who could be looking for fun by driving around in a smelly car when the gas prices are so high?

Some water snakes take dead fish and settle down into the serious work of swallowing them. Other water snakes take dead fish and somersault and cavort in the water in an apparent happy dance at their good fortune.

Some people believe humans seek joy because, unlike the four-legged and feathered creatures, we have knowledge of our own mortality.

"Life is short," we say.

"The summer is slipping away, so today we swim before Pounds Hollow Lake becomes too cold."

The sun kisses the treeline at 6:20 p.m. at Pounds Hollow, now. It will be 6:18 p.m. tomorrow. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may. Make hay while the sun is shining.

Who is to say other creatures don't know about death? Humans are not born with the knowledge of mortality. We learn about it from other members of our species or from observing death.

A cow mourns her calf for a couple of days after its death. Dogs mourn the death of dog friends.

Suppose animals know all about death and that is why cows and horses frolick in the pastures and cats want to go out to enjoy the sun on bright days and copperheads laze around on the pavement.

Vultures have more experience with death than any other bird or mammal. They also seem to enjoy life the most, soaring kite-like on the updrafts over the hollows. No one can tell me they are looking for food because they would not be able to spot it beneath the forest canopy. They soar because they know joy and because they know all about death.

That's my theory, anyway. So I don't run over copperheads in the road and, in turn, I thank them for not crawling into my cabin when I leave the door open.

-- Brian DeNeal is a staff writer for The (Harrisburg, Ill.) Daily Register and The (Eldorado, Ill.) Daily Journal. He may be contacted at 253-7146 ext. 230 or by e-mail at bdeneal@yourclearwave.com.