For many species of terrestrial vertebrates living in the lower Susquehanna valley, it’s time to take refuge in a safe place below ground to enter a winter-long slumber. The numerous frosty nights of the past two weeks have expedited the stragglers’ efforts to find a suitable place to pass our coldest months.
Aside from the Eastern Box Turtle (Terrapene carolina carolina), the Wood Turtle (Glyptemys insculpta) is our most terrestrial species of testudine, however it is seldom found far from wet bottomlands. Last week, we found this pair preparing to burrow into alluvial soils along the edge of a floodplain wetland where they will spend the winter. In recent years, Wood Turtle numbers have plummeted due to habitat fragmentation and loss, and due to collecting by short-sighted petkeepers and profiteers.A sluggish Wood Turtle catching a few last rays of sunshine before digging in for the winter. If you encounter these or any turtles now or at any time of year, it’s important that they not be disturbed. Look and leave them be.
And now, just in time for Halloween, a look at some hibernating species that some of our more squeamish readers consider to be “scary”.
In the mountainous forests of the Ridge and Valley Province, there lives a seldom seen little mouse which, unlike the more familiar species found in the fields, farms, and homes of our valleys and Piedmont, spends almost half the year in true hibernation.
The Woodland Jumping Mouse (Napaeozapus insignis) is a nocturnal species of rodent found primarily on rocky forest slopes, particularly those with growths of Eastern White Pine and Eastern Hemlock. Unlike the similar White-footed Mouse, a species that sometimes enters homes in the fall and remains active year-round, the Woodland Jumping Mouse builds a small subterranean nest among rocks and boulders where it will enter a long winter slumber, often not emerging until the milder days of April. During the long hibernation, these mice sometimes fatally diminish the energy stored in their body fat; up to 75% may perish before spring arrives (Merritt, 1987).
In spring and fall, Eastern (Black) Ratsnakes are frequently seen basking in the sun as they absorb heat and get their metabolism going. During the hottest days of summer, when ambient air temperature is sufficient for their needs, they become nocturnal, hunting mice and other creatures that are also active at night. During October, they make their way back to a winter den where they will remain until March or April.
A last-minute Eastern (Black) Ratsnake makes a slow late-October trek across a mountain road toward a winter den on the south slope of the ridge.This Eastern Ratsnake is on its way to a cold-season hideout where it may spend the darker months in the company of other communal hibernators including……Eastern Copperheads……and Timber Rattlesnakes.
That’s right, all three of these snakes are known to cohabitate, not just during hibernation, but at other times of the year as well. And you thought they were mean and nasty to anything and everything in their path, didn’t you?
Here in the northeastern United States, fear of indigenous wild snakes is a totally irrational anxiety. It’s a figment of our indoctrination. Their wicked reputation is almost exclusively the result of a never-ending stream of demonizing propaganda from the pulpit, press, parents, panicked, and picture shows. All they want from you and I is to be left alone. Want something to really be afraid of this Halloween? Try domestic dogs. That’s right—the “friendly” pooch. In the United States, they’ll land hundreds of people in the emergency room today. Don’t like that one. How ’bout cars and trucks. They’ll kill and maim people all day long. And don’t forget about sugar. Yes friends, that sweet treat is pure poison that kills all day long. Happy Halloween!
SOURCES
Merritt, Joseph F. 1987. Guide to the Mammals of Pennsylvania. University of Pittsburgh Press. Pittsburgh, PA. pp.230-233.
Shaffer, Larry L. 1991. Pennsylvania Amphibians and Reptiles. Pennsylvania Fish Commission. Harrisburg, PA.
Back in late May of 1983, four members of the Lancaster County Bird Club—Russ Markert, Harold Morrrin, Steve Santner, and your editor—embarked on an energetic trip to find, observe, and photograph birds in the Lower Rio Grande Valley of Texas. What follows is a daily account of that two-week-long expedition. Notes logged by Markert some four decades ago are quoted in italics. The images are scans of 35 mm color slide photographs taken along the way by your editor.
DAY TWELVE—June 1, 1983
“KOA Hammond, LA”
“We stopped early today — About 2:30 P.M. Cleaned the interior of the camper, washed the windows, and put everything where it belonged. The windshield was a buggy mess. Had supper according to the menu. Took pictures of the place. Had a shower. Loafed all evening.”
After being on the go for twelve to sixteen hours a day for more than a week, it was nice to catch up on our “housekeeping”, field notes, and rest. The campground, which was yet another nearly empty one, had an in-ground pool, so I decided to go for a swim. As I went through the gate, I noticed that the water was a little bit dull, not sparkling clear as if treated by the usual dose of chemicals. Upon getting closer, I could see what looked like a layer of mulm at the bottom of the pool, similar to the detritus and waste that accumulates atop the substrate in an otherwise clear aquarium tank. Needless to say, I postponed the swim. Later, when we happened to be in the office, I asked the owners about the pool and was momentarily puzzled when they told us that the entire campground had been flooded last month. This was at first surprising because no stream, creek, or river was in sight, but the land is so flat and the elevation so uniform in southwestern Louisiana that a couple of feet of water can inundate miles and miles of these lowlands. As on a beach or on a delta, building anything of value in a floodplain is risky business.
On June 2, we resumed our drive, then spent the night at the KOA campground in Sweetwater, Tennessee, at the same accommodations we visited while southbound on May 21. There, I finally had my refreshing swim. By the following evening, June 3, we had arrived back in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. During the trip from the Brownsville Airport to Lititz, Pennsylvania, the odometer had registered 1,945 miles.
This then, prompted and fortified by the notes kept by Russ Markert, have been your editor’s recollections from his ever-evaporating river of memories of an adventure forty years gone. I hope you’ve enjoyed this modern-style slide show describing our journey to the Lower Rio Grande Valley. I’m grateful to each of my traveling companions for inviting me to share this experience with them and am equally glad to have had the opportunity to share the story of our trip with you.
If traveling to see the wildlife and plant communities of south Texas seems like something that might interest you, I strongly urge you to go. Many more tropical species, including native parrots, are now found north of the border and the opportunity to see vagrants is still better there than anywhere else in the country. The hundreds of species of butterflies and the spectacular migrations of the Neotropical birds that nest here in the the higher latitudes make it a place you need to visit at least once in a lifetime. The cooler months of the year can be a comfortable time to make the trip. You’ll see wintering birds from both eastern and western portions of the United States and Canada, some in numbers that might amaze you.
If the Lower Rio Grande Valley is something outside your means, then may I suggest a visit to ZooAmerica in Hershey, Pennsylvania. The theme of the collection is North American wildlife and the self-guided tour is organized by regional habitat types including the southern swamps and the southwestern deserts and scrubland. Some of the animals we saw on our expedition, and some that we missed, are among the species under their care.
The Western Diamondback Rattlesnake (Crotalus atrox) is a resident of the Texas scrublands and deserts. Unless you’re looking for trouble by recklessly wading through the thornscrub, the only time you might get lucky enough to find one in the Lower Rio Grande Valley is late in the day when they emerge from hiding to enjoy the warmth of a quiet road or other sun-drenched surface. We weren’t that fortunate, so I photographed this one in the desert southwest exhibit at ZooAmerica in Hershey, Pennsylvania. (A modern digital image)You can see these Burrowing Owls (Athene cunicularia), a rare but regular wintering species in the Lower Rio Grande Valley, among the cacti in the desert southwest exhibit at ZooAmerica. (Another modern digital image)
And now, a few words from the old watersnake who happens to live down along the creek where last spring’s Earth Day events were held.
Northern Watersnake (Nerodia sipedon sipedon)
Hey! You! Yeah You! I heard that there won’t be an Earth Day celebration down here this week. What a ssshame!
Remember how much fun we had last year. All those kids ssscrambling down along the creek bank throwing ssstones and ssscreaming and yelling like they’re gonna sssack a city. I ssshould have had the sssense to ssslither away. But no, I just curled up and played it cool. But sssure enough, one of the little brats found me and bellowed out loud enough for the whole countryside to hear, “SSSNAAAAKE!”
Ah nuts. That’s all it took. Here they come. Poking me with a ssstick. Taunting and ssstabbing. Don’t you know that hurts? What did I ever do to you, you rotten little apes? I’m telling ya, I get no respect.
Think that’s bad? It got worse. Don’t you remember? After a dozen of the runny-nosed monsters had me sssurrounded, one of the brain-dead adults yelled, “…it might be poisonous!”
That’s all it took. The ssstones got hurled my way and the poking with a ssstick became beatings. Those rats tried to kill me! On Earth Day! I ssslid into deep water and barely escaped with my life.
Now I want to tell you a few things—let’s get ’em ssstraight right now. I’m not, nor is any other watersnake in the SSSusquehanna valley, poisonous. Ssso don’t go villainizing me and those like me just because you have a monkey-like fear of us and need a sssocially acceptable reason to exercise your murderous instincts. Yeah, we know all about your manly tall tales of conquest that you ssshamelessly tell your friends and family after you kill a sssnake. Wanna be a hero? Then leave us alone! We and all of the native sssnakes of the SSSusquehanna valley, including the venomous copperheads and Timber Rattlesnakes, are minding our own business and just want to be left alone. Get it? Leave us alone! Don’t beat us with a ssshovel, mow over us, drive your car or truck over us, or ssshoot us. We have it bad enough as it is. You already buggered up most of our homes building your roads, houses, and lawns you know—so have a little respect. And one more thing, we don’t want be part of your pet menagerie. There’s no way we’ll “love you” or want anything to do with you, even if you do imprison us and make us sssubmissive to you for food, you sssick fascists. And that goes for you obsessive collector types too. We know you’re hoarding animals like us and calling your cruel little pet penitentiary a “rescue”. Yeah, we’re wise to that con too.
What’s left of a Timber Rattlesnake (Crotalus horidus) in a wild area of the Susquehanna valley. It made the fatal mistake of trying to cross the road when a simple-minded sociopath driving an oversize pickup truck was coming by. As you may have guessed, the conscientious driver braked and swerved to hit the snake.
Ssso we’ve heard you won’t be coming down to the creek to terrorize us this year. No Earth Day event, huh. Well good, because I can’t take another Earth Day. Let the sssquirrels and the birds plant the trees, they do a better job than you anyway. Ssstay at home where you belong—watching television or twit-facing your B.F.F. on that magic box you carry around. And if you absolutely feel the urge to be upset by a sssnake in your midst, go visit that neighbor with the “reptile rescue”, I’m sssure he has a cobra or some other non-native sssnake in his collection that really ought to give you worry—especially when it finally escapes that prison.
The snakes of the lower Susquehanna valley, including the Eastern Copperhead (Agkistrodon contortix), are very docile and just want to be left alone. That goes for the turtles and other wildlife too. How ’bout showing them all a little respect.
