Don't think of it as losing quantity. Think of it as gaining probability.

I have lived in three states throughout my entire life (accepting that going away to college places your residency, albeit temporarily, in another state): Nebraska, Oklahoma, and Arkansas. Surprisingly, I've turned out relatively normal; even more surprisingly, I've managed to escape being confronted with a (poisonous) snake. Living in a populous area like Oklahoma City doesn't put you up against the likes of five different rattlesnakes, copperheads, and cottonmouths very often. Some sort of spiritual immunity hovering over the boundaries of Searcy, AR has prevented me from ever glimpsing Arkansas' three poisonous rattlesnakes, water moccasins, coral snakes, and copperheads. I've never stepped into the cornfields or onto the western sand dunes of Nebraska, thus avoiding the prairie and timber rattlesnakes, western massasuagas, and (yet again) copperheads. In fact, the only time I've ever glimpsed poisonous snakes was as the family van ran over them in Texas or my (ex)friends dragged me and forced me up against the glass cages at the Henry Doorly Zoo. I've lived a charmed existence so far, never being confronted face-to-fangs, and I hoped I would reap more blessings as I moved north. Surely snakes only live in mild or warmer climates, right? They couldn't survive the hypothermia-inducing winters of the Northeast.
Wrong.

As I tossed and turned in my bed last night, I found myself thinking of the backpacking trip David and I will take in Pennsylvania this Thursday and Friday. We're hiking six miles, camping during the night, and hiking back the next morning. This will probably be fairly commonplace when I move up there, since we both love nature, climbing rocks, and buying cute new hiking accessories (okay, the last one is only me). A passing thought suddenly gripped me with fear: placing myself out in the midst of nature would only make it easier for the snakes to hunt me down and fang me in my sleep. Heart racing, I googled "poisonous snakes of Pennsylvania," hoping for the best. I was blown away by the results.

It turns out that snakes aren't warded away by colder climates. The same three creepers keep slithering back into my life: the timber rattlesnake, the northern copperhead, and this time, the eastern massasuaga rattlesnake. I know there are fewer poisonous varieties than in any other state I've lived in, but that's not all - I'm basically inviting them to strike at me now by adventuring off into the woods instead of staying safe and cosy in my dorm room. And what's worse, you're not allowed to kill the rattlesnakes (those that most frequent the trails), because they're either endangered or well on their way to becoming so.

Using this piece of information, you might twist it and say "Well, if they're endangered, it's not very likely that you'll see one, right?" Wrong. They can smell the fear.

I would post a picture of the sneaky snake that is most likely to bring about my demise, but then I would be too petrified to view my own blog. Instead, I will post this nice picture of the luck dragon from Neverending Story. I'm going to need all the luck I can get.