Snakes, Bears, and Wildlife on Northwest Arkansas Trails

You will see snakes if you hike here regularly. The overwhelming majority will be harmless species going about their business, and nearly all of them will leave before you’ve finished noticing them.

The single most useful fact about snakebite—most bites happen when a person steps directly on a snake they didn’t see, or—far more often than you’d hope—deliberately tries to kill, move, or handle one. Leave a snake alone and the risk drops close to zero. It has no interest in you; you are much too large to eat and it would rather not spend venom on you.

Researchers have tested this directly. In a study of wild cottonmouths, fewer than 1 in 5 tried to bite even when stepped on with a protective boot. In a 2020 study of 69 eastern copperheads, only two struck at all, even when researchers stepped right next to them, stepped on them, or picked them up.

The habits that matter

• Watch where you put your feet and hands, particularly on rocky outcrops, along bluff lines, and in deep leaf litter—the places a snake is both likely to be and hard to see.
• Step onto logs and rocks, not over them, so you can see the far side before you commit your foot to it.
• Don’t reach where you can’t see—under ledges, into brush piles, into the gap between rocks.
• Give it room and go around. If a snake is on the trail, back off a few steps and wait, or walk a wide arc around it. It will move on.
• Keep dogs leashed in snake country. Dogs investigate with their faces, which is exactly the wrong approach.

Snakes are most active in warm weather, and on very hot days they shift to early morning and evening—the same hours you’ll be hiking to avoid the heat. Worth knowing, not worth avoiding.

Arkansas has six venomous snake species statewide. Three matter for hiking around Bella Vista and Bentonville, and one is a long shot.

Snake photos via Wikimedia Commons. Top photo by Tim Vickers (public domain). Copperhead from the National Park Service and timber rattlesnake from Shenandoah National Park (public domain). Cottonmouth by Greg Schechter, CC BY 2.0.

• Eastern copperhead—the one you’re most likely to encounter. Found statewide. Tan or coppery with dark hourglass-shaped crossbands that are wider on the sides and narrow across the back. Superbly camouflaged in leaf litter, which is exactly the problem. Bites are painful and warrant a hospital visit, but are very rarely fatal.
• Timber rattlesnake—found statewide and at home in Ozark woods and rocky hillsides. Heavy-bodied, with dark chevron crossbands and usually a rust-colored stripe down the spine. Generally mild-mannered for a rattlesnake and inclined to warn you. Treat any bite as a serious emergency.
• Northern cottonmouth—semi-aquatic, so think creeks, sloughs, and lake edges rather than ridgetop trail. Dark and thick-bodied, and named for the startling white mouth it gapes when threatened. Far less common in our part of the state than people assume; the great majority of “cottonmouths” reported around NWA water are harmless watersnakes.
• Western pygmy rattlesnake—small, grey, and easy to overlook, with a rattle so tiny it sounds like an insect. Present in parts of the state; an uncommon encounter on our trails.

The other two—the western diamond-backed rattlesnake and the Texas coralsnake—occur elsewhere in Arkansas and are not a realistic concern on Bella Vista or Bentonville trails.

Arkansas has around three dozen non-venomous snake species, and they vastly outnumber the venomous ones on the trail. Ratsnakes, kingsnakes, watersnakes, racers, and garter snakes are all common here and all completely harmless to you—kingsnakes actively eat other snakes, including venomous ones, which makes them worth being pleased to see.

Several harmless species do a convincing impression of a dangerous one—watersnakes flatten their heads and are constantly mistaken for cottonmouths, and young ratsnakes are blotchy enough to read as copperheads at a glance. Some will vibrate their tails in dry leaves, which sounds alarmingly like a rattle.

Which is a good argument for the simplest possible policy—you don’t need to identify it. Just don’t touch it. Identification is a fun hobby and a poor safety strategy—the people who get bitten are disproportionately the ones who got close enough to be sure. Give every snake the same wide berth and the question never comes up.

It’s also worth saying plainly—killing snakes is both unnecessary and counterproductive. They control the rodent population, most attempted killings are how people get bitten, and several Arkansas species are protected.

Almost everything the movies taught you about this is wrong and actively harmful. The real protocol is short.

Do

• Get to medical care immediately. Call 911 or head for an emergency room. Antivenom exists and works, and time matters.
• Stay as calm and still as you can. A raised heart rate moves venom faster.
• Remove rings, watches, and anything tight near the bite before swelling starts.
• Keep the bite immobilized and, where practical, at or slightly below heart level.
• Wash the area gently with soap and water.
• Note the time and, if you can do it safely from a distance, take a photo of the snake. Never delay leaving in order to catch or kill it.

Do not

• Do not apply a tourniquet or any constricting band.
• Do not cut the wound or try to suck out venom. Suction devices don’t work either.
• Do not apply ice.
• Do not drink alcohol or take painkillers without medical direction—aspirin and ibuprofen affect clotting.

Note that cell service is unreliable in our hollows, which is one more reason to tell someone your route and expected return time before you set out.

Arkansas is home to a healthy black bear population—over 3,000 animals, centered on the Ozark and Ouachita highlands. It’s one of the great American wildlife recovery stories, after the species was very nearly wiped out of the state in the mid-twentieth century.

They are also, for practical purposes, not a threat. Attacks are extraordinarily rare—the University of Arkansas puts it in perspective by noting you are around 180 times more likely to die from a bee sting than from a bear. Bears want to avoid you, and the great majority of hikers here will go years without seeing one.

The actual risk is surprise. A bear that hears you coming leaves. A bear that discovers you at fifteen feet may react badly. So:

• Make noise—talk, clap occasionally—especially in thick brush, on blind corners, and near loud water where your sound doesn’t carry.
• Hike in a group when you can. Groups are noisier and bears avoid them.
• Never approach or feed a bear, and never get between a sow and her cubs. A fed bear becomes a problem bear and usually ends up dead.

If you see one

• Stand your ground or back away slowly. Keep facing it. Speak firmly and make yourself look large.
• Do not run. A black bear can hit 30 mph, and running invites a chase.
• Do not climb a tree. They are better at it than you.
• If a sow has cubs, back away without going anywhere near them.
• In the very rare case of an actual attack by a black bear, fight back—aggressively, aiming for the eyes and snout. Playing dead is advice for grizzlies, and we don’t have those.

• Deer are everywhere and harmless, though a startled one crashing out of the brush next to you will take a year off your life.
• Coyotes and bobcats are present and essentially never a concern for an adult on foot. You’ll hear coyotes far more than you’ll see them. Keep small dogs leashed and close.
• Armadillos are common, comically oblivious, and completely harmless—just don’t handle them.
• Skunks and raccoons are mostly nocturnal. Give any wild mammal that seems unafraid of you, disoriented, or active in broad daylight a very wide berth, and report it—that’s the profile for rabies.
• Spiders and centipedes. Black widow and brown recluse spiders live under rocks, logs, and loose bark, and the Texas red-headed centipede delivers a genuinely painful sting. One habit covers all of them—don’t put your hands where your eyes haven’t been.
• Other people’s dogs. Statistically, the animal most likely to bite you on a trail. Most are fine; if one isn’t, stop, don’t run, and let the owner get control.

And the ones that genuinely deserve your attention—ticks and chiggers. Undramatic, extremely common, and the reason to put permethrin on your socks.

• Route Library—go find a hike.

This guide is general information from a volunteer trail organization, not medical or veterinary advice. In an emergency, call 911. See our Terms of Use and Trail Safety Disclaimer.