Yesterday (April 30, 2012) we ate the first of the blackberries.
I have no images to share of eye-shutting, throat-humming, head-wagging blogkeepers eating luscious-black berries, nor of the purple-stained saucer left in the sink, but here is a completely unrelated photo I snapped with my smartphone as we drove up the county road to the Creek yesterday afternoon.
Earlier in the week I saw my first mated pair of Lesser Goldfinches (Carduelis psaltria) going about their high-pitched whining and dashing in and out of the upper branches of a tall cedar elm to feed the equally high-pitched whining mouths of a nest of chicks. Our male is the black-backed variety shown below. This version typically inhabits the eastern portion of the species' range.
And last week I saw what may have been my first Central Texas Whipsnake (Masticophis taeniatus girardi) racing across the yard under the great Oak and scaring the hallowed bejesus out of me. I was standing and talking to two other people within the cool shade of the Oak when I heard a rustling on grass. I looked across the mowed yard area about forty feet to see what appeared to be a four-foot long shiny black snake, racing our (my) way at the greatest speed that any animal has ever come after me (as fast as the skinny dog that bit me in Guatemala). As soon as I could register what was happening, I jumped up and yelled. That must have been when the snake took at a right angle to pass under the picnic table beside us and disappear into the high weeds at the edge of the yard and stone field. Of my two friends, one caught a glimpse of it, and the other never saw it at all. I did not see it again.
No photo here, but a video clip of a re-enactment.
Appropriately, we read that "This whipsnake is seldom encountered in the open, probably because it is alert, has good vision, and darts out of sight before being discovered" (Texas Snakes: Identification, Distribution, and Natural History By John E. Werler, James Ray Dixon). These authors specifically mentioned the area of Lake Marble Falls (about four miles away) when reporting on sightings of this snake.
The Central Texas Whipsnake, "if approached too closely, may bite its tormentor, often maintaining a firm grip with its needle-sharp teeth as it chews. If picked up, it will savagely defend itself biting viciously until released or its head is restrained. Should it be seized by the tail, the whipsnake employees a more drastic escape technique. If it cannot quickly pull itself free, it suddenly rotates the body on its long axis so vigorously that the caught portion of its tail twists free from the rest, leaving the snake with a shortened caudal member but a good chance to escape" (191).
And, from the same source, this for late night meditation while sleeping under oaks or poking around tall grasses for pretty little creekside flowers: "Quick to defend itself [speaking of the Ruthven's whipsnake, a relative to the one that wanted to kill me] when cornered or handled, it shows no hesitation before lashing out at its antagonist, repeatedly and vigorously. Often during a strike, it will increase the damage to its foe by momentarily relaxing its forebody to form a single sagging loop, which when suddenly straightened pulls the head back violently. This causes the embedded teeth to rake across the victim's skin and even deeper, lacerating as they go." Perhaps at some family reunion the two cousins shared street-fight tales with one another.
"Although habituated to dry environments," we continue to read, "it ordinarily does not stray far from moisture; most specimens are found near some source of surface water such as rivers, streams, or springs. It likewise shows a clear predilection for rock-encumbered canyons, especially those containing streambeds, either dry or water-filled" (189). Anybody who has spent even five minutes at The Creek will recognize this place.
And this bit of folklore reminder: "The primary myth concerning coachwhips, that they chase people, likely arises from the snake and the person both being frightened, and both just happen to be going the same way to escape. Coachwhips are fast snakes, often moving faster than a human, and thus give an impression of aggression should they move toward the person. Another myth of the rural southeastern United States is of a snake that, when disturbed, would chase a person down, wrap him up in its coils, whip him to death with its tail, and then make sure he is dead by sticking its tail up the victim's nose to see if he is still breathing. In actuality, coachwhips are nowhere near strong enough to overpower a person, and they do not whip with their tails, even though it is long and looks very much like a whip. Their bites can be painful, but generally are harmless unless they become infected." http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Masticophis_flagellum
May is the mating season for the Central Texas Whipsnake.
I have no images to share of eye-shutting, throat-humming, head-wagging blogkeepers eating luscious-black berries, nor of the purple-stained saucer left in the sink, but here is a completely unrelated photo I snapped with my smartphone as we drove up the county road to the Creek yesterday afternoon.
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| Wild turkey hen (Meleagris gallopavo) on the county road |
Earlier in the week I saw my first mated pair of Lesser Goldfinches (Carduelis psaltria) going about their high-pitched whining and dashing in and out of the upper branches of a tall cedar elm to feed the equally high-pitched whining mouths of a nest of chicks. Our male is the black-backed variety shown below. This version typically inhabits the eastern portion of the species' range.
 |
| http://animals.nationalgeographic.com/animals/birding/lesser-goldfinch/ |
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| Blue represents the year-round range, red the breeding range. |
And last week I saw what may have been my first Central Texas Whipsnake (Masticophis taeniatus girardi) racing across the yard under the great Oak and scaring the hallowed bejesus out of me. I was standing and talking to two other people within the cool shade of the Oak when I heard a rustling on grass. I looked across the mowed yard area about forty feet to see what appeared to be a four-foot long shiny black snake, racing our (my) way at the greatest speed that any animal has ever come after me (as fast as the skinny dog that bit me in Guatemala). As soon as I could register what was happening, I jumped up and yelled. That must have been when the snake took at a right angle to pass under the picnic table beside us and disappear into the high weeds at the edge of the yard and stone field. Of my two friends, one caught a glimpse of it, and the other never saw it at all. I did not see it again.
No photo here, but a video clip of a re-enactment.
The Central Texas Whipsnake, "if approached too closely, may bite its tormentor, often maintaining a firm grip with its needle-sharp teeth as it chews. If picked up, it will savagely defend itself biting viciously until released or its head is restrained. Should it be seized by the tail, the whipsnake employees a more drastic escape technique. If it cannot quickly pull itself free, it suddenly rotates the body on its long axis so vigorously that the caught portion of its tail twists free from the rest, leaving the snake with a shortened caudal member but a good chance to escape" (191).
And, from the same source, this for late night meditation while sleeping under oaks or poking around tall grasses for pretty little creekside flowers: "Quick to defend itself [speaking of the Ruthven's whipsnake, a relative to the one that wanted to kill me] when cornered or handled, it shows no hesitation before lashing out at its antagonist, repeatedly and vigorously. Often during a strike, it will increase the damage to its foe by momentarily relaxing its forebody to form a single sagging loop, which when suddenly straightened pulls the head back violently. This causes the embedded teeth to rake across the victim's skin and even deeper, lacerating as they go." Perhaps at some family reunion the two cousins shared street-fight tales with one another.
"Although habituated to dry environments," we continue to read, "it ordinarily does not stray far from moisture; most specimens are found near some source of surface water such as rivers, streams, or springs. It likewise shows a clear predilection for rock-encumbered canyons, especially those containing streambeds, either dry or water-filled" (189). Anybody who has spent even five minutes at The Creek will recognize this place.
And this bit of folklore reminder: "The primary myth concerning coachwhips, that they chase people, likely arises from the snake and the person both being frightened, and both just happen to be going the same way to escape. Coachwhips are fast snakes, often moving faster than a human, and thus give an impression of aggression should they move toward the person. Another myth of the rural southeastern United States is of a snake that, when disturbed, would chase a person down, wrap him up in its coils, whip him to death with its tail, and then make sure he is dead by sticking its tail up the victim's nose to see if he is still breathing. In actuality, coachwhips are nowhere near strong enough to overpower a person, and they do not whip with their tails, even though it is long and looks very much like a whip. Their bites can be painful, but generally are harmless unless they become infected." http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Masticophis_flagellum
May is the mating season for the Central Texas Whipsnake.
