Making love in bamboo

I was heading down our unpaved road on the way to town.  It's a bumpy road. I was going slow. To my right is an 80-acre forest slated to become a subdivision. To my left are a few of our rental homes on large lots surrounded by bamboo. Something in one stand of Bambusa multiplex caught my eye.  I slowed to a stop then backed up for a closer view.

Two snakes were entwined in the 'boo.  At least I thought that's what I saw.  It was hard to tell from inside the car so I grabbed my camera and got out for a closer look.

Yes!  Definitely snakes! (I love snakes) Two black racer snakes were entwined in a tangle of love.  Reptilian whoopee in a clump of bamboo.

Snakes watching me watch them

Although this was the first time I spotted two black racers mating, I've seen racers many times before. Southern black racers (Coluber constrictor) are the snakes I see most often in the garden and around the house. Harmless to people but deadly to rodents, birds, lizards, other snakes, frogs, toads and insects, I consider black racers to be an essential part of nature's arsenal.  Pest control at its most basic level.

Black racers in an amorous embrace

This slender reptile can grown up to 6 feet long with a solid black upper side, a dark gray to black belly, white chin, white throat and brown eyes.

Entwined in the 'boo

Male racers become sexually mature on or slightly before their second year but females take a year or two longer to reach sexual maturity. After mating, a female may lay up to 30 eggs that hatch about 3 months later. When they do, the 6-inch-long babies are fully prepared to hunt and live on their own. That's good because after a week or so of guarding their newly laid eggs, the parents leave their future offspring to fend for themselves.

This is the view that caught my eye as I was driving down the road

Encountering two snakes mating was a completely new wildlife experience for me. While some people may shudder at the very thought of encountering two snakes mating (or, sadly, at seeing snakes at all), I reveled in the moment. The snakes obviously loved what they were doing.  I did too!

Snapshots from the beach

Looking back through photos I took last week makes me realize how many wildlife encounters can happen without doing much more than biking, rowing and walking back and forth from the house to the car.

My bike rides either took me along the ocean at low tide or through nearby beachside neighborhoods. At the beach, the waves were wild this past week.

Crash!

And sunrises were as different as they were beautiful!

And while birds at the beach were plentiful, I didn't take many pictures of them this time.

A sandpiper seeking an early morning snack

A flock of brown pelicans flying overhead

I may not have taken many pictures of birds by the ocean but I snapped off quite a few shots of herons and ibises when I rowed down the canal on the west end of our property.

 

 

Biking through residential neighborhoods also yielded some exciting surprises. On several mornings I found myself frequently stopping to photograph interesting things along the way.

In the backyard of one house in Silver Sands I saw a hawk perched on the tip of a topless palm tree.
 

Another day I pulled over to photograph a pileated woodpecker hammering away on a utility pole.

But not all my pictures were of wildlife.  On the same street where I saw the woodpecker I noticed a creative entry display that I just had to photograph.

As well a stone wall punctuated by bromeliads and aloes

And then there was there was the encounter I had with a snake as I was walking down the pathway from our house to the car.

If you've been reading my posts for a while you probably know that I'm a fan of snakes and so I was delighted to notice this slender rat snake basking in a ray of sun in my 'chair' garden.

Despite the cool, windy weather, the beach once again rewarded us with gifts aplenty. Wildlife, flora, beautiful sunrises and sunsets over the lagoon. Happy days.

A rattlesnake encounter

So exciting!  

A snake - and not just any snake but a really big Eastern Diamondback Rattlesnake - was stretched across the driveway when I came home.  

Of course, as soon as I saw it I stopped the car, reached for my camera and began taking pictures.

The rattlesnake turned toward me and took a good look....

...before deciding to turn around and slither back through the bamboo hedge into the woods.  

Below is a short video I took of the snake just before it disappeared back into the forest. 

In the 23 years we have lived on our property, this is only the third time a huge rattler has made an appearance.  Many might find such an encounter terrifying but to me it was thrilling. What a privilege and treat it was to see such a beautiful and large creature.  

So exciting! 

Bad rat. Good snake.

We were recently away for a few days. When we got back, I did my usual slow stroll around the gardens. I was pleased to see how well my flowering plants fared in our absence. The only plant in need of water was a container of porterweed. 

Zebra longwing butterfly on porterweed plant

After giving it a good drink, I poured the remainder of the not-quite-empty watering can into a begonia on a plant shelf next to the house.

Surprise! There was something moving in the begonia pot! A rat – yes, a rat – was in the container and it didn’t look pleased to have water poured on its back.

Okay. I’m a country girl. I’m used to critters of all kind. That doesn’t mean I have to like each and every one. I accept rats as part of nature. As long as they live outside and don’t gnaw through any wires or walls, I can accept their presence. But they don’t belong next to the house living – or at least resting comfortably – inside a potted plant in my garden.

What did I do? Well, I didn’t scream. I give myself credit for that. I did back away and call for help.

“Ralph!” I shouted for my husband. “Come see what’s living in my potted begonia.”

“What is it?” he asked before he even got there.

“It’s a rat,” I said, too excited to wait any longer. “See its tail hanging over the outside of the container?”

He did. The rat’s naked pink tail was a good seven inches long. He also saw its body - a large body (this was no cute little mousey) about the size of a squirrel, minus the fluffy tail.

“Do you want me to get rid of it?” he asked as he reached for a stick and as I backed farther and farther away.

Before I had a chance to answer (what could I say except an emphatic YES!?) he poked the rat with the stick.

Whoosh! It ran. And where did it run? Out of the pot, down the plant stand, across the walkway and directly toward where I was standing.

Once again, I was proud of myself for not screaming. It all happened so fast. I simply stood there watching as the rat ran toward my bare feet until it abruptly changed course, veering off into the foliage.

That was good. It was gone. That was bad. It was living somewhere very close to our house. And it probably wasn’t living alone. Like all rodents, rats are prolific breeders. There’s never just one.

So I have a problem. A rat problem. What should I do? I considered my options.

A) I could get a cat. An outdoor cat might solve the rodent problem but it would also kill birds, anoles and frogs. Plus, an outside cat would itself be vulnerable to predators. Been there. Done that. Really don’t want to do it again.

B) I could put down poison. Poison would be an effective control. It works. But it works on other animals too. Animals I don’t want to kill might also eat the poison as might predators that prey upon rats. I don’t really want to use poison unless I absolutely have to.

C) I could cut back plants and clean up the area around the house so there are fewer hiding places for unwanted critters. I’m not sure that will solve the problem but it’s worth doing anyway.

D) I could do nothing and wait to see what happens.

I opted for ‘D.’

A few days have gone by and I haven’t seen any rats. That doesn’t mean they’re gone, but it is a comfort.

However, today, something happened that buoyed my spirits. A fifth option appeared outside the bathroom window. Once again, it began with a shout out to Ralph, “Come see what’s just outside the bathroom window!” 

 

As my husband entered the room, the snake – a yellow rat snake – slithered over the windowpane and down into the garden.

  “Do you think it’s after the rat?” Ralph asked.

“I don’t know but it sure hope it is,” I replied. I meant it.

Option E) Control the rat population with natural predators. Snakes, owls, hawks and coyotes are among the many animals that hunt rodents. If the rat snake didn’t find our begonia-loving rat, maybe one of the other predators will. This country girl has hope.

Garter snake show-and-tell provides surprising lesson

When I spotted a harmless garter snake during a recent visit with our daughter and twin grandchildren, my husband (literally) seized the opportunity to do a little hands-on educating. Lessons were definitely learned, but maybe not quite the ones he intended.

A garden surprise

A Simply Extra
Ralph went out to the garden last night with his flashlight to do one of his late-night checks for caterpillars, snails and other garden beasties. What he found instead surprised him...

Wrapped around a sad looking Brussels sprout plant was a long, thin yellow-and-brown-striped rat snake.

He snapped some pictures of it while I was inside fast asleep.

This morning, just before breakfast, he went out to check the garden again.  Another surprise!  The snake was still there, still wrapped around the Brussels sprout stalk!

This time I was the one with the camera and the rat snake cooperated by stretching out so I could see more of its pretty body.

When you're a gardener, you have to be ready for all sorts of surprises.

And what did you have for breakfast?

A Simply Extra

I got sidetracked on my way to breakfast this morning when I noticed a flutter of broad dark wings down by the lake.  I grabbed my camera and rushed outside certain of an imminent wildlife encounter.  

Sure enough, that's what I got.  A great blue heron had just caught and was struggling to swallow a thin, black water snake.  Rather than risk scaring the heron, I stayed back and zoomed in so as not to disturb the heron's breakfast even as mine own meal sat cooling on the kitchen table.

Click, click, click went the camera as I watched the large bird lift and turn its head this way and that to better maneuver its meal down its throat.

Lucky me for being in the right spot at the right time.  Lucky bird for scoring such a filling meal.  By the way, my own meal of hot oatmeal was still warm when I finally came back inside and was ready to sit down.  

What a great way to start the day!

A millipede invasion

Although harmless to people, the many-legged millipede can be intimidating if you are scared of creatures that resemble worms and snakes.

Simply Living
October 15, 2012

On Orchard Way, the dead-end street where I grew up in Yardley, PA, my mother’s fear of worms and snakes was common knowledge.  The neighbors all knew the sight of any slithering or slimy looking creature would send my normally composed parent into wild banshee mode, screaming uncontrollably.

It would have been a stretch to call my mother popular with the kids on our street.  Her no-nonsense nature and quick-to-criticize manner earned few points among adolescent boys, who responded to her complaints about their behavior by taking advantage of her fears.  

Their most memorable prank involved placing a knot of squiggly worms into our mailbox knowing full well my mother was the one who usually got the mail.  Mom’s reaction to their squirmy surprise far exceeded the expectations of all involved, earning its own page in Orchard Way history.

The other day as I hand-picked millipedes off the tiled floor, I thought of my mother who died in August 2010.  As I picked up one millipede after another, I wondered how my mother would have reacted.  If she saw as many cylindrical crawlers inside the house as I did, her level of hysteria might have surpassed the infamous mailbox incident. 

Although millipedes are not reptiles, they look enough like small snakes to trigger terror among ophidiophobiacs like my mother, people who are scared of snakes.  Belonging to a class of animals known as diplopoda, millipedes are multi-segmented arthropods with two pair of legs per segment.  These harmless-to-people invertebrates are often confused with centipedes, which have one pair of legs per segment.  While both have dozens of short appendages, the legs on centipedes are quite visible, protruding sideways from their bodies while less obvious millipede legs extend downward. 

Other differences include the color (centipedes are blackish-red while millipedes are grayish-brown), body shape (centipedes are flat, millipedes round) and speed of movement (centipedes are fast, millipedes slow).  Centipedes and millipedes also have dietary differences.  Centipedes are carnivores, which makes them beneficial to gardeners because they eat bugs that eat plants.  Millipedes, on the other hand, are vegetarians dining on decomposing organic matter as well as tender young leaves.  Centipedes are good for the garden because they consume bugs.  Millipedes… not so much.  Millipedes are beneficial in that they help break down organic material but not welcome when they nibble on newly sprouted broccoli leaves. 

At some point every year, millipedes seem to wander indoors.  They could be venturing inside to escape the heat or in search of dry ground during rainy periods.  For whatever reason, their move into interior spaces is an unfortunate choice.  Even the messiest home is not usually a depository for either decaying matter or tasty green sprouts so millipedes that seek indoor refuge rarely live long. 

The simplest way to deal with multi-legged millipedes that find their way through cracks into home is to pick them up and throw them outside.  Since they don’t bite or sting, handling them holds no danger.  For a more permanent solution, millipedes can be dropped into a pail of soapy water or doused by any number of home-defense type sprays.  Be forewarned that when touched, millipedes curl into a spiral in the hope that their pursuer will think they are already dead and leave them alone.  Centipedes won’t do that, which is another way to tell them apart.

When it feels threatened, a millipede curls into a spiral and stays still.

I don’t mind millipedes.  I don’t even get upset if they meander into my house.  I do regret, however, that I never took the time to ask my mother what made her so terrified of any creature that bore even the slightest resembled to a snake or worm.  There are some questions, I suppose, that can never be answered and there are some questions too late to ask.  

The tale of a giant rattler

Coiled and ready to strike, an Eastern Diamondback Rattlesnakes warns its enemies with a loud persistent rattle

Simply Living
September 10, 2012

I’ve encountered quite a few snakes during the 25 years I’ve lived in Florida.  The vast majority has been harmless black racers, corn snakes, king snakes, garter snakes and rat snakes but occasionally I’ve chanced upon a venomous water moccasin along the lakeside in the tall grasses.  Although rattlesnakes live in Central Florida too, I’ve seldom seen them. 

Until last week.

I was walking down the dirt road that leads to our driveway when I noticed the distinctive track a snake makes in sandy soil.  The track, which looks like a series of elongated attached S's, stretched from one side of the road to the other.

“Hmm,” I thought to myself, “I wonder what type of snake made that track and where it is now.”

I followed the serpentine trail with my eyes into the bamboo thicket at road’s edge and suddenly realized the snake was still there.  And it was HUGE!

I was looking at the tail end of what appeared at first glance to be monster reptile.  The part of its body that I could see was thicker than my arm.  

My first thought was “Ball python.”  Then I heard the rattle.

“Oh my gosh!” I said to myself as I rapidly backed away.  “It’s a rattlesnake.  An immense rattlesnake with an incredibly loud rattle!”

I had my camera with me and began to take pictures, albeit from a safe distance (thank you, zoom lens!).  I also had my cell phone and immediately called Ralph.

“Get into the car and come out here now,” I commanded.  “There’s a gigantic rattlesnake just outside the entry!”

Moments later, my husband appeared with the car, which I gratefully got into.  We opened the windows, drove alongside the spot where the snake - an Eastern diamondback - posed coiled and rattling with intensity.

“Can you believe it,” I said.  “All these years we’ve lived here and never seen a rattlesnake and now we come upon the mother of all rattlers.  If this snake stretched out, I bet it would be at least six feet long.  Do you see how thick around it is?”

My husband shared my amazement not only of the animal’s girth but also of the sound emanating from its nether region.  Until that day, neither of us had ever heard a rattlesnake rattle in the wild.

“It sounds like cicadas,” Ralph said and I agreed.

A rattlesnake’s rattle is composed of hollow, interlocked segments of a tough protein called keratin, the same material that forms human fingernails and animal hooves.  When the viper senses danger its muscles contract – around 50 times a second – causing the tan-colored keratin segments to knock against each other.  The resulting noise is a loud rattle that can last up to three hours.

Ralph and I didn’t wait three hours but the sound lasted far longer than we expected.

The Eastern diamondback rattlesnake is the largest and heaviest rattlesnake species in North America.  With a lifespan of 10 to 20 years, it can achieve an average length of 3.5 to 5.5 feet but the rare specimen measures in at 7.5 feet and weigh up to 15 pounds.  The preferred habitat of these predatory creatures is dry upland, pine forests, palmetto flatwoods as well as marshy lowlands.  They often frequent the same territory as gopher tortoises.  They even use gopher tortoise burrows for shelter. 

Unless threatened, rattlesnakes are surprising non-aggressive toward people.  The person who foolishly prods, pokes, or otherwise provokes a rattler sets himself up for attack while individuals wise enough to heed warning signals can, like Ralph and I did, walk away unharmed.

Not so lucky are rats, mice, birds, rabbits and squirrels.  Eastern diamondbacks masterfully practice the art of ambush.  Using highly sensitive glands, these stealthy stalkers detect scents, perceive body heat and respond to vibration.  After finding and trailing potential prey, the well-camouflaged snake waits patiently for the animal to appear before striking.  Diamondbacks can strike one-third of their body length injecting venom lethal to small animals.  Once bitten, prey wanders off to die.  The snake follows to consume its meal.

Although I was only vaguely aware of pit vipers when I encountered the rattlesnake, I immediately knew I had stumbled upon an amazing survivor.  Ralph and I observed an animal that has managed to avoid human interaction long enough to grow to a most impressive size.  The first thought of many would be to kill it before it hurts someone but I simply felt honored to have witnessed such an amazing creature in the wild. 

Knowing that a snake of such awe-inspiring girth, length and potentially lethal powers is living nearby has caused me to be more aware but not to feel cowed.  The way I see it, snakes have as much right as we do to live on the land.  Some neighbors just want to be left alone.  I understand that because I feel that way too.

PUTTING THE DANGER OF SNAKEBITE IN PERSPECTIVE...

There are approximately 311 million people living in the United States today and every year venomous snakes bite about 7,000 of us resulting in an average of 5 deaths.

By comparison, dogs bite 4.7 million people annually resulting in 800,000 hospitalizations and an average of 15 deaths.

It's not easy being a bird

Mama wren sits on her eggs

Baby birds have it tough. Raccoons, snakes, squirrels, opossums, dogs, cats and even other birds are among the many predators eager to devour tiny hatchlings.

Humans are also drawn to these dainty dollops of feather and flesh but for a different reason. People simply find baby birds adorable. Anybody who has watched bird eggs develop into fluffy fledglings can't help but feel a sense of delighted attachment to the tiny chirpers.

That's how Ralph and I felt about the Carolina wren babies that nested in our garage this spring. Their woven cave of bamboo leaves and small twigs was wedged in between a messy scattering of boxes and other detritus that should have been tidied away well before bird-nesting season.

Carolina wrens have a propensity to build nests in close proximity to their human neighbors. The small cinnamon-colored birds with a white stripe above their eyes are quick workers. Both partners can build a nest in about the same time it takes two people to, say…pick up supplies at Home Depot, stop at the grocery store, go to the bank and enjoy a leisurely lunch out. In other words, the wily birds took advantage of the one time we forgot to close the garage doors when out running errands.

When we came back from town, we were too preoccupied to notice the nest. By the time we did, it was too late.

"There are eggs in it!" Ralph reported after illuminating the cavernous clutch with a flashlight.

"We can't get rid of the nest now," I proclaimed, despite knowing the consequences their feathery presence would bring.

The two reasons we don't want birds nesting in the garage involve messes and wasps.

A family of birds may be adorable but they can also be quite untidy. We learned that the hard way the year a pair of mourning doves built their nest atop the garage-door opener. As it turns out, dove droppings are far from inconsequential, especially when multiplied by a family of five.

The doves also taught us how readily mud daubers take advantage of a sheltered area with easy access. When garage doors remain open so nesting birds can fly in and out, wasps zoom inside as well. The resulting dried-mud structures dot the garage ceiling and walls. Although we have rarely been stung, it's unsettling to have so many wasps living in a space we frequent on a daily basis.

Thanks to the industrious wrens, however, thwarting wasps and avoiding messes became a non-issue. Captivated by feathery cuteness, we refocused our attention on the baby birds' development and welfare.
From eggs to hatchlings, Ralph and I checked their progress daily.

"Come look!" became our morning mantra followed by such statemens as, "They're getting so fluffy" and "Watch how they open their beaks when I make a kissy sound."

Day-old wrens open wide in anticipation of food

As the babies grew bigger, so did our attachment. For about two weeks, I snapped photos while Ralph peered more frequently into the nest of the almost-ready-to-fledge birds. Then one day, as we drove into the garage after another trip to town, we found mama and papa wren in a frenzy.

"Maybe I parked the car too close to the shelf," I suggested, backing out. "I bet the babies left the nest while we were in town and are somewhere in the garage or the shed."

While we searched the garage and connecting shed for the fledglings, the parents continued to flit about and scold incessantly.

"Something's wrong," I said. "I can't find the babies anywhere."

I was right. Something was wrong but we didn't find out exactly how bad things were until the next day when Ralph called, "Come quick!"

There behind the nest — the empty nest — wedged between the wall and the back of the boxes was one sluggish rat snake with a telling bulge in its midsection.

A thin rat snake with a telltale bulge

 
"Oh no!" I exclaimed. "A snake got them! All of them! No wonder the parents were frantic. That's so sad."

"But it's good for the snake," Ralph reminded.

I know he's right.

In order to survive, wild animals must find food and that means one critter's meal is another's loss. Baby birds have it tough, but so do rat snakes and every other creature whose next meal depends upon what they catch today.

Losing the baby wrens was upsetting, but life goes on. The parent birds will try again in another location and perhaps this time their babies will survive. As for us, we've added one more reason to keep the garage doors closed: Prevent messes, thwart mud daubers and avoid the sadness that comes with watching baby birds die to nourish another animal's life.

In snake v frog there's only one winner

Hungry snake...doomed frog

Simply Living
January 23, 2012

People have it easy. If we're hungry, we go to the store, select food, go home and prepare a meal. If we're pressed for time, feeling lazy or indulgent, we eat at a restaurant.

That's not how it works for wild animals.

My husband called me away from the dinner I was preparing on a recent evening to come out to the porch.

"You've got to hear this sound," he said. "Some animal is screaming but I can't figure out what kind of animal or where it is."

We sat on the porch for about 15 minutes but didn't hear a thing.

"I guess it stopped," I said standing up, anxious to go back inside to check the vegetables roasting in the oven.

Just as I was about to leave, Ralph opened the porch door for one last look. That's when we heard it. Outside the door, a tiny young black racer snake had its mouth clenched around a green treefrog that was about 4 inches long. The snake, thinner than a pencil and less than a foot long, had a firm grasp on the frog's rear end. Despite the fact that all four of the frog's feet were free, its stance on life was fragile. Aware of the mortal danger it was in, the frog let out a mournful cry.

I had never before heard a frog screech. I didn't even know they could. Apparently, the situation triggered a primordial instinct. The clutch of a reptilian mouth caused the frog to emit a high-pitched scream. Black runner snakes overpower their victims by pressing their prey against the ground while holding them tightly within their jaws. It was a terrifying, life-threatening predicament for the frog.

For the snake, it meant dinner. No store-bought snack for this reptile. No drive-through dining or oven-roasted meal. Black racers eat rodents, lizards, frogs, birds and other snakes. They eat what they catch or they don't eat at all. For a snake — for any wild animal — dinner is not about preparation, presentation, mood or hour. It's all about survival, a do-or-die effort. It's not a pretty picture.

The snake, intent and patient, bit down on the frog, absorbing the amphibian's vital fluids.

Throughout it all, the frog was aware. Its eyes bulged, its legs twitched in frantic but fruitless attempts to flee. But the snake's hold was steadfast. I watched with horrified fascination, my camera tracking the frog's increasingly futile efforts to disengage and escape.

Tiny snake....big meal

In less than an hour, the snake had devoured the entire frog.

"Unbelievable," Ralph said as we watched the snake's muscles push the swallowed treefrog — now reduced to a large lump — down the narrow channel of its body.

"I never would have thought such a large frog could fit inside such a small snake," I responded as I pondered the frog's demise.

The snake remained on the concrete walkway silently digesting its meal. I returned to the kitchen, my own culinary efforts to check.

Digesting dinner

The snake and I had both spent about the same amount of time readying a meal that would provide us with sustenance. I cut up vegetables. The snake captured prey.

"People sure have it easy," I said to myself as I opened the oven door, the vegetables roasted to perfection.

I called to Ralph, "Dinner's ready!"