This Place Is Crawling With Snakes

Yesterday, my dog Huckleberry stepped blithely over this coiled up scrap of rope on our front walkway and...?!...it reared up at her. Closer inspection revealed that the rope was in fact, duh, a snake.

A skinny little squiggle of a snake. Like a scaly shoelace. Just a wisp of a thing. So cartoonishly cute that I wanted to tickle it under the chin. And this is why people think I'm a freak. Yes, when I find a snake in my yard, I am over the moon with the thrill of it all. When a snake visits my yard, I know my yard has something it wants: food, water, shelter, a place to lay eggs, or all of the above. This guy's mama laid as many as 25 (!) eggs last July. They hatched from late August through September, but most of his baby brothers and sisters didn't survive their first winter. This is typical, nature's way. I wonder if this plucky little survivor was born nearby.

I lie flat on the ground and snap pictures from every angle, trying to remember what I've been told about identifying copperheads, cottonmouths, and timber rattlesnakes--Virginia's only venomous snakes. Wasn't there something about the pupils? I sort of want my new pal to be of the venomous persuasion, because I'd like to tell everyone how intrepid and swashbuckling I'd been during my encounter. But my expert witnesses at Huntley Meadows pronounce him a harmless juvenile eastern ratsnake. The round pupils should've been a dead giveaway; his venomous kin typically have vertical, slit-like pupils. Besides, check out the widening of his head behind his eyes. This is a defensive posture; he's probably afraid of me.

Now let's be clear: Any snake can bite, so "harmless" is sort of in the eye of the beholder. And although I relish finding snakes in my yard, I keep my distance and count on my zoom lens to get up close and personal when my slithery friend is less shoelace and more garden hose. When I spotted this beauty this morning, I was inside at my desk talking to my mom on the phone, so these shots are all through a thick window.



This is an adult eastern ratsnake, quite transformed from the mottled coloration of its youth. I'm not sure why they undergo this color shift but it probably has to do with the need for camouflage; maybe the patchy pattern helps young ones hide from predators like raccoons, foxes, owls and hawks. Adults are typically all black by the time they reach two and a half feet or so, and they're the only snakes in Virginia that can reach lengths in excess of 6 feet! I watched it wind itself around the trunk, swing down into the bushes, and slip out of sight, probably in search of a snack: a little rodent, bird, or egg. Snakes help keep rodent and bird populations in check. Without them, I'd have even more mice in my house, and even more bird poop on my car.

       

You've Got Mail

Even in the suburbs, even in the most densely populated county in Virginia, even right outside your front door--literally--you just never know what wonders of nature you might be lucky enough to find. This amphibious leprechaun is an American green tree frog, which are pretty common in marshy areas (like the one in my backyard). They spend a lot of time loafing on lily pads, but they'll also hang out wherever there's food. Since their food is insects, and insects are attracted to light, it's no surprise that this guy picked a spot on our mailbox right underneath an outdoor lamp.

I like a cute, fuzzy mammal at least as much as the next person, but most wild mammals won't let you get right up in their face to snap a picture. They're much more wary and furtive. Little critters, like bugs and frogs, tend to be more obliging. Still, I was surprised by my visitor's willingness to let me get as close as I did, and to hang around as long as he did. My best guess is that since his main predators include fish and snakes, my form and movements just didn't trigger his instinctive flight response.

Eventually he did decide to get out of Dodge, but he didn't go very far--just to the railing by the front steps. Check out those ET-like fingers--that's some grip. A lot of research has gone into explaining the mechanics of these silicone-like toe pads and how they enable frogs to cling to and hang from the darnedest places. Apparently it has to do with mucous secretions and the unique structure of protrusions on the "soles" of the frogs' feet. According to Scientific American, "understanding the adhesive properties of tree frog feet could lead to better tire design, and perhaps even a nonslip shoe." I don't think all scientific research needs commercial applications to justify itself, but this is undeniably a pretty cool reason to study frog feet.

Apparently these hoppers have become popular pets, and I can sort of see the appeal. You're not going to scratch him under the chin, play fetch, or take him for a walk, but you'd have a chance to watch a fascinating creature in action--provided you like to stay up late, since American green tree frogs are nocturnal. Luckily the pet trade hasn't become a threat to this species' survival. Deforestation, drainage of marshes, and pollution are a fact of life across the species' range but for now anyway, populations appear stable.

I'm not tempted to catch this guy and coop him up in a terrarium, no matter how cute and cool I think he is. I like him just where he is, hopefully eating mosquitoes in my yard. I may never see him again, but I'll think of him every time I get the mail. I wonder who will visit next.