sidewinding on sidestreets

Horned Rattlesnake or Sidewinder Rattlesnake

Knowing that most of my recent posts pertain to rattlesnakes, really unnerves me. I would love to write about beautiful sunsets and warm evenings under a clear, starry sky. I can't. I just can't.
Yes, it's true, we do witness some of the most breathtaking sunsets we've ever seen and star gazing doesn't get any better than this...but...yes, there's a but.

But I am sick of the snakes. Maybe the desert is trying desperately to warn us against any prolonged visits or maybe our bad luck has reared it's ugly head once again. I don't know, I don't want to know. I know I don't want to see anymore snakes.

The sky was clear tonight and the weather is a little more mild after the sun goes down (now that we're adjusted to the desert temperatures) so we opted for sandals on our evening walk. Dolly has her favorite spot in the campground where she takes care of her business, so we made our way towards the back of the campground under the streetlights.
I have to admit that while we walk I'm constantly in "hawk eye mode". I see and hear everything even if it's just a golf cart whizzing by. Tonight my keen sense of sight paid off, I spotted a horned rattlesnake (or sidewinder) about twenty feet ahead of us under one of the streetlights. Heith saw it just before it hit the gravel where it almost but disappeared. I didn't think, I yelled something and then ran. After catching my breath at one of the park model driveways, I stopped and watched him from a safe distance. He started throwing stones at the snake while Dolly investigated from behind. I'm thinking (once again) "He's crazy! Flipflops, what an idiot!" Finally I saw them walking back to my direction.
The snake had sidewinded (is this a word?) underneath an adjacent camper and conveniently hid himself beneath their sewer hose. A nice surprise next time they dump the black tank.
Heith felt horrible that the snake chose a camper to hide under and decided that we had to go back and kill it.

We knocked on the door, no answer. Armed with a rake and several long wooden stakes (along with proper footwear) we faced our truck headlights toward the back of the camper. Heith took a flashlight and poked and prodded around the sewer hose. He heard the snake rattling from a distance but never found it. Campground security rode by (of course) and seemed amused that the roadrunners hadn't killed the snake.

I thought, after speaking to Arizona natives who swear they've NEVER seen a snake here muchless in the campground, that I would never have to worry about seeing one either. Since our arrival in JULY, we've encountered (not seen but actually encountered) two deadly rattlesnakes. What is the meaning? Is there a meaning? Do I attract these scaly beasts?
Why me?

Maybe I'm overreacting again, I usually do. I just thought I'd warn any potential visitors of my own before they get their hopes up of seeing the Sonoran. They may have to see it alone, I think that's the last time I step outside until December.