A Minor Thrasher 3: Nest of Consequences

 

In my first writing in this series, I expressed doubt that I would be privileged to witness any further developments. Now I know, I am not only blessed to bear witness but have been chosen to play some role this years’ brooding attempts. I am humbled and excited.

 Last year, I bonded with some Carolina Wrens (Thryothorus ludovicianus) who chose to nest close to our campsite. Watching the babies hatch and grow, then one day, we found the nest empty. Hoping they had fledged, we decided to clean out and move the cabinet they had inconveniently chosen for the nest site. That's when we discovered a very full yellow rat snake (Pantherophis alleghaniensis) resting after his big meal.

 I definitely had the full spectrum of emotions there. I grieved for the babies that had been lost, and the parents that saw their efforts so brutally undone.

 At the same time, I'm always ecstatic to meet and interact with a snake. I don't want to fault them for a meal, and I don't wish them to go hungry.

I never planned the events of this series—nature delivers the content. My job is to document and process it in a way you might want to consume. I've already committed to the metaphor of tying the thrashers behavior into my interpretation and connection to Robert Frost’s poem 'a minor bird'.  As events unfold, will this metaphor be stretched too thin to hold up, or can I make it stronger and more profound with each new interpretation?  I'm gonna try. Hold my beer.

But first—science!  Since a new character is entering our little nature telenovela today, let's take a moment for a brief biological profile of this majestic reptile.

 

 

  

The Eastern Black Racer

Their scientific name, Coluber constrictor, is a misnomer as this Colubur does not practice true constriction. They use their impressive speed to chase down prey, which they pin and swallow alive. I can't decide if this is more or less brutal than constriction or envenomation.

The species is thriving in most parts of the southeastern united states. They are valued, if not beloved by wise farmers and homesteaders. Not only for their rodent control, but also their habit of predation on venomous species. Chicken keepers know that the occasional egg is a small price to pay for this quiet protection.

Adults have shiny, smooth black scales that contrast sharply with the stark white scales on their chin. This distinguishing mark can often be spotted with their habit of periscoping to get a view over the grass.

They can live up to ten years in the wild and reach a full size of about 3–6 feet (90–180 cm)

Having a serious talk about road safety.

I received my first confirmation that the species was present here a couple weeks ago. We were heading out to run errands and I startled both Bobby Mcgee and the dogs by breaking hard and skidding to a stop on the loose gravel road that borders camp. What I assumed was a dark stick in the road only became obviously a snake to my eyes interpretation when I was nearly beside him.

He was stretched out long and straight, holding perfectly still. Charging up his energy for the day's racing in the warm morning sun.

Man-made roads are an unintentional but effective trap for ectotherms. They are drawn like a moth to the flame to a clear, flat, heat absorbing and radiating surface. It has a wide vantage to make them feel safe at the most vulnerable part of their day. When they are slow and sluggish, still preparing their physical systems for the exertion their daily (or nightly) activities will demand.

 

Juvenile Eastern box tortoise (Terrapene carolina carolina)
Who also needed relocation out of the road

The animal lacks the contextual knowledge we possess. This seemingly perfect basking site contains a powerful and unpredictable threat that is newer than the animals long adapted evasive and defensive techniques. Fast, massive, heavy beasts operated by clumsy, imperfect apes. Often thoughtless, sometimes malicious.

There is an overall sorrowful element to reptile road rescues, but I have to admit, there is a certain rapture to it as well. That is, as long as it's a happy ending and everyone walks (or slithers) away in generally the same good health they arrived. Its exciting for me, because I feel entitled to a closer and more intimate interaction with an animal than I could ethically expect in other encounters. 

In this case, the snake was still cold to the touch. I lifted him gently and slowly by the thicker part of his body. I allowed him to coil around my hand and wrist for stability. He faced me with a striking pose but had little energy for much more movement than that. I've always loved the sensuous feeling of handling a snake. The texture of their scales amplifies the textile experience of the slow deliberate movement of many impressively strong muscles. Such a powerful body in such a simple and utilitarian shape.

 Trying to balance my enthusiasm of the encounter with respect for the animal's comfort and needs, I kept the interaction relatively brief. I had Bobby Mcgee snap a few pics of us before I handed the snake off to him for safe relocation. Bobby wanted to handle the snake as well and understood to choose a spot that suited what the animal was seeking so he wouldn't be tempted to return to the road to meet those needs.

 

 

 

 

 

The next encounter was the one I documented in this video. 

I was alone at camp with the dogs. The 3 of us were returning up the hill from doing some trail cam maintenance when the dogs bounded ahead of me. Displaying mannerisms, I've come to recognize as they've got a bead on some wildlife they want to harass.

When I saw Cleatus pause and focus on a particular spot in the grass, I called out the 'leave it' command. Thankfully both dogs responded appropriately. They gave the point of interest a little distance and waited for me to catch up slowly with my broken legs. I gave them their well-deserved praise and pets as I scanned the ground for what caught their attention. I spotted the Racer in striking position, perfectly still, sternly focused on the creatures that had disturbed him.

I secured the dogs in the trailer with a treat and more praise and returned to assess the condition of the snake. The snake remained unmoving, eyes sharply trained on my approach. Ready to choose a swift course of action dependent upon what this unpredictable presence may choose to inflict upon him. I got close enough to accurately observe but kept enough distance so as not to distress him further.

Of course I wanted to handle him, but knew in this instance, I had no right. This time it was midday. The snake was warm and fully charged. He was tense, coils primed to spring out in a strike or flee in a flash with his trademark speed.

I don't fear a bite. The small, non-venomous teeth are unlikely to register any real pain or damage. My primary concern is for his comfort and safety, but I still desire whatever interaction I'm reasonably allowed.

I slowly lowered myself to sit on the ground at a respectful distance.  I spoke to him softly as I captured his majestic beauty with my phone camera. He lacks external ears and can't hear my voice the way we understand hearing and obviously wouldn't understand the meaning of my words if he could. However, the minute vibrations my speech causes- imperceptible to many other species- travel the points my body touches the ground, to the points his coils touch the ground. They resonate through his body to the columella at the base of his jawbone. These vibrations give him information about my location, movement and behavior.

I hope that by moving slowly and talking softly, I can communicate to him that I am not a threat, and I can be privileged to observe as he relaxes and goes on with his intended activities.

It had the desired effect. He slowly and deliberately turned his back on me and moved away from the unwanted attention. Or so we thought. What transpired next complicated my ethical understanding of my role as ecologist and neighbor.

If he had continued on in that direction, he would've been back in the road. The road is low traffic this time of day, but I would have followed from a non-threatening distance and played crossing guard. Encouraging him to keep moving across if he seemed to be pausing to bask.

Instead, his retreat was interrupted by an attack from above. The snake's subtle sounds and movements as he glided through the pine litter had alert a species with a keen perception and violent paranoia for exactly these cues. A skill hard earned over at least 100 million years of evolutionary conflict.

The thrasher couple first perched on the branches above him but quickly came down with a crashing thump on the forest floor. They delivered blow after blow with wings, beaks and talons. The display made their name ring as true as it does when they noisily toss around leaf litter hunting for bugs.

I should have expected nest defense behavior from this species. I did not at this point have confirmation of the nest location but have observed obvious signs they were settling in for brooding close to camp.

In the weeks since I wrote 'A Minor Thrasher 2: Love in the Leaf Litter', we have observed them daily foraging and flitting about very near, and well within camp. Even visiting the feeding station I have set up on the van.

I hadn't yet seen nest defense behavior though and assumed I would have towards the dogs or humans if they were settled that close by. I guess they had observed us and determined we were a non-threatening feature of the landscape they had deemed safe in their vulnerable parenthood.

I was medicated with cannabis (aka stoned, toasted, high af) so it took me embarrassingly long to understand what was happening before me. A bit less time from that to decide to intervene. Not as easy of a decision as gently relocating a snake who is basking in the road, but one I hope benefitted both species.

I tried to handle the snake as respectfully and gently as the circumstances allowed. The thrashers retreated when I approached, and I lifted him once more by the thickest part of his body. This time he flailed in panic, so I stood still and used a hand over hand approach to keeping a grip on him while allowing his body to arrange to once again grasp my wrist for stability so I could carry him one handed while using my cane without risking him injuring himself.

Of course, once he achieved his stability and felt his flight attempt had failed, he switched into fight mode. Launching continuous and indiscriminate strikes and gnawing attempts at every part of my limb he could reach, and often his own coiled body. The bites were well deserved, and I accepted them as I spoke softly and moved slowly and smoothly, hoping to calm him somewhat from such an unfortunate and stressful series of events.

As soon as I reached the other side of camp, I lowered him onto the ground at the top of the gully and released him. Pointing him towards the dense and rugged cover of the old growth deciduous and eroded landscape. Away from the flat, shrubby terrain thrashers prefer to nest in.

He retreated as slowly and deliberately as he had before the assault.  I was a bit impatient, worried the situation might arise anew. I tried to encourage some haste with heavy footsteps behind him, and then a gentle poke to his hind body. I regret that last move, he didn't need the extra stress. He quickly coiled back into striking pose to face me, so I backed off and apologized and attempted to explain myself as if he understood, cause I'm a weirdo like that.

 ***

I found the nest the next day, when a scolding bird vocalization arose from a dense cedar Cleatus was sniffing around. I called the dog back and went to investigate. Sure enough, a Thrasher sat in a nest carefully crafted against the trunk, protected by the dense, spiney foliage. The other parent stood on the outer branches nearby, both birds watching me unmoving with their piercing yellow eyes.

The Juniperus virginiana they had chosen for their nursery was not only near camp, but pretty much in camp. Right behind the chair where I frequently rested in the afternoon shade. Far enough from the fire to avoid the heat, but close enough to regularly tend it.

These intelligent birds had perhaps not only deemed their observations of our behavior as non-threatening, but protective and beneficial. I am quite flattered and hope I can live up to their expectations.

 

An attempt at poetic sociological parallel

 

A Minor Bird

By Robert Frost

 

"I have wished a bird would fly away,

And not sing by my house all day;

 

Have clapped my hands at him from the door

When it seemed as if I could bear no more.

 

The fault must partly have been in me.

The bird was not to blame for his key.

 

And of course there must be something wrong

In wanting to silence any song."

 

This series began with a very literal comparison of the thrashers behavior to the bird frost writes about. The poem also calls upon the nuance of interrogating compulsive intervention. The poet sought to silence or shoo the bird with claps from his door.

The human was motivated by annoyance, inconvenience, while the bird from his perspective, was performing the most important and challenging task of his life so far. Practicing and performing a hard learned song in hopes of impressing a mate and gaining the right to pass on his genes.

As ecologist and naturalists, our default position should always be observation without interference.  The take only photos and leave only footsteps philosophy.

There can occur, however, instances of accidental interference by us or other members of our species, that might compel us to act in order to mitigate or correct damage.  Hindsight is always 20/20 and potential consequences cannot always be anticipated or predicted.

I remove reptiles from the road, because I possess a knowledge of a clear and present danger that they lack.  I would be ill equipped to violate their autonomy in such a way if I did not make every possible effort to understand their needs and motivations.

The snake knows he must raise his body temperature at the right time of day to have enough energy to feed and protect himself.  He inhabits his body, and lives his life, and in so doing gathers a greater wealth of information than I could ever hope to possess, no matter how geeky I get about herpetology.  He is the best and only true authority on his individual needs and desires.  As are we all.

When the thrashers attacked the snake, they were acting out of fear and obligation the snake had no understanding of.  In fact, it took my stoned ass a hot minute to catch up.

In our roles individual humans as well-as parents, as partners, as leaders and teachers-respect for induvial autonomy should be the default.  Non interference and respectful curiosity.  Where interference may be called for, it should be weighed against the evidence we can gather, and with consideration for the factors it’s quite possible we will never fully understand.