Rattlesnake Kate: The Colorado Woman Who Fought Off 140 Snakes and Lived to Tell the Tale

Daniel Holland
4 minutes ago
5 min read

Rattlesnake dress on display. Collage of a woman in a striped dress, historic photo with snakes. Text: "Rattlesnake Kate..." and more.

There are stories that seem engineered for tall-tale folklore, the kind that begins with someone leaning back in a chair and saying, “You are not going to believe this, but…” The life of Katherine McHale Slaughterback fits neatly into that category. Yet unlike the campfire myths of the American frontier, her story is not stitched from imagination. It unfolded, quite literally, in the rattlesnake-filled grasslands of Colorado, and Kate herself left behind the photographs, the dress, the interviews and the scars to prove it.

What makes her tale compelling is not only the scale of the ordeal but the woman herself. Tough, self possessed, forthright and unconcerned with social conventions, she felt far more comfortable in trousers than frills, more at home on horseback than indoors, and just as capable with a rifle as with a sewing needle. She trained as a nurse, raised snakes for venom in later life, dabbled confidently in taxidermy and survived six marriages. And on one autumn afternoon in 1925, she stepped into an episode that would forever secure her place in Colorado legend.

This is the story of Rattlesnake Kate.

Early Life on the Colorado Plains

Katherine McHale Slaughterback was born on 25 July 1893 in a log cabin near Longmont, Colorado. Some records suggest 1894, but her own statement and family materials point to the earlier date. She was the daughter of Wallace and Albina McHale, part of a family shaped by frontier life, where practicality mattered more than propriety.

As a young woman she attended St Joseph’s School of Nursing, training in an era when nursing demanded strength and adaptability rather than modern equipment. She would later carry that discipline into both motherhood and her many unconventional pursuits.

Kate moved to Hudson, Colorado, and built a reputation for her skill in taxidermy. Neighbours recalled the ease with which she handled animals, living or dead, and the brisk competence with which she worked. Her preference for trousers rather than skirts raised eyebrows in some quarters. Yet in the agricultural communities of Colorado, a woman who worked hard and dressed for the conditions tended to earn respect, even if she puzzled more traditional observers.

Her personal life was lively. Slaughterback married and divorced six times, one husband being Jack Slaughterback, whose surname she kept. She had one son, Ernie Adamson. Whether Ernie was born out of wedlock or adopted remains disputed, a detail that Kate neither clarified nor appeared concerned about. What mattered was that he was hers, and she protected him fiercely.

October 1925: The Day That Made Her Famous

On 28 October 1925, Kate and her three year old son Ernie set out on horseback toward a lake near their farm. The day before, hunters had passed through the area, and she hoped they might have left a few ducks behind. The simple errand turned into one of the most extraordinary confrontations between human and wildlife ever recorded.

As she approached the lake, the grass around her stirred in waves. Migrating rattlesnakes, more than one hundred of them, coiled and hissed. They had gathered near the water, and Kate and Ernie rode straight into their midst.

The danger was immediate. She later explained that she was terrified not for herself but for the boy and the horse.

She fired the three bullets she carried for her .22 calibre Remington rifle. Three snakes fell, but the rest encircled her. With no ammunition left, she searched for the nearest object she could use as a weapon.

It happened to be a sign. According to her own account and the retelling that followed, it read “No Hunting”.

Armed with the wooden board, she fought.

The battle lasted two hours. In her own words:

“I fought them with a club not more than 3 feet long, whirling constantly for over two hours before I could kill my way out of them and get back to my faithful horse and Ernie, who were staring at me during my terrible battle not more than 60 feet away.”

When the last snake was motionless, she counted them. One hundred and forty.

The Photograph That Travelled the World

After returning to the farm, Kate told a neighbour what had happened. Word spread quickly, and soon a reporter appeared, eager to document the astonishing event.

Kate gathered the snakes, strung them together on a rope, and posed for a photograph. Her face in the picture is calm and unapologetic, her posture firm. The image appeared in the New York Evening Journal and was quickly syndicated abroad. Newspapers in Germany, Belgium, Scotland, France, England, Mexico, and Canada all ran the story of the woman who had survived a swarm of rattlesnakes armed with only three bullets and a warning sign.

It would become one of the most recognised images in early twentieth century Colorado history.

The Dress Made from Snakeskins

The notoriety of the photograph was only the beginning. Kate later skinned many of the snakes, preserving the hides. From fifty three of them she crafted a dress. It was sleeveless, fitted, and surprisingly elegant, if visually dramatic. She also made shoes and a belt to accompany the outfit.

The dress became almost as famous as the encounter itself. Kate claimed the Smithsonian Institution offered her two thousand dollars for it, a considerable sum at the time. She declined, preferring to keep it as a personal trophy.

The dress still exists today, housed in the Greeley History Museum. It is displayed under controlled conditions to prevent deterioration, and remains one of the most visited items in the collection.

Life After the Snakes

Although the snake episode defined her public persona, Kate lived a layered life beyond that moment.

She worked as a nurse during the Second World War, serving in the Pacific Theater. Her medical training, rugged temperament, and field experience made her a valuable asset. After the war she spent several years in El Paso, Texas, before returning to Colorado.

In later years she began raising rattlesnakes intentionally, milking them for venom which she sold to scientists and researchers in California. Her comfort around venomous snakes seemed to puzzle but also impress those who knew her. Kate described them with a mix of respect and matter of fact practicality.

She also continued her craft of turning snakeskins into souvenirs, supplementing her income with skins, small leather goods, and preserved specimens.

Three weeks before her death in 1969, she donated her rattlesnake dress to the museum in Greeley. After her death, her son Ernie added further possessions, including the rifle she used that day in 1925.

She died on 6 October 1969 and was buried in Mizpah Cemetery in Platteville, Colorado. Her headstone carries the name she became proud of.

It reads simply: “Rattlesnake Kate”.

Legacy

Rattlesnake Kate’s story endures because it combines frontier resilience, personal independence, and a single astonishing act of survival. She did not see herself as a hero. She saw herself as a woman protecting her child, her horse and her own life. But the magnitude of what she faced and the sheer physical determination involved placed her in a category entirely her own.

Her life also challenges the usual narratives of early twentieth century womanhood. She dressed as she liked, worked as she pleased, outshot and outrode most men in her community, married and left husbands as necessary, raised a son, fought in a war, tanned hides, sewed dresses from snakes, milked venomous reptiles, and turned a moment of terror into a lifetime identity.

Today, her dress, her photographs, and her story continue to draw curiosity. Visitors to the Greeley History Museum often come expecting a legend. What they find instead is history, documented and undeniably real.

Kate herself might have smiled at that.