Wednesday, May 23, 2007, 21:27
Adrenalin Rush
There I was, walking along the path around the hayfield this morning. Minding my own business. Then a movement to my right caught my eye. I looked down in time to see a coiled snake about a foot away strike out at my leg.
The snake hissed as it struck.
I let out a shriek and jumped back.
Charlie was trotting along the path behind me. If he saw the snake, there would be trouble for sure. Like most dogs, Charlie does not like snakes.
"Come on, Charlie," I said, heading out into the field, "let's go this way."
Charlie was happy to go in another direction, and when he was sniffing happily, following his nose out into the field, I turned back toward the snake.
It was coiled, standing up about a foot, glaring at me. The top part of the snake was tightly coiled back and forth so that at the top, it looked like a cobra hood. I didn't want to step too close and take the chance of it striking at me again, but from where I stood, I could see maybe four or five feet of snake all together. The head looked somewhat flat and was a chocolate brown color. The rest of the snake was a dirty yellow with blackish brown spots.
The glittering black eyes followed my every movement.
Slowly I backed away and continued around the hayfield.
Now what in the world kind of snake could that be? We have bull snakes around here. And grass snakes. And the occasional blue racer. The bull snakes, sometimes very large, are more placid. On occasion we have seen them stretched out in the road, sunning themselves. At other times I have seen them in the yard or around the barn. When prodded, the bull snakes will slowly slither away.
The grass snakes, yellow and black striped or red and black striped, will usually go in the opposite direction as fast as they can. We've got a small bright green type of snake, too, but the only time I've seen them is after they are dead. Our little tabby cat Bobby Cat has caught many of the bright green snakes over the years and then brought them to the yard.
But this snake -- instead of either slowly or quickly slithering away -- had coiled, hissed and struck out.
When I arrived in the house, I called Randy to tell him about the snake. He got on the Internet, found the DNR website, and began reading snake descriptions to me. By the time he was finished, I was pretty well convinced that it had been a fox snake. I turned on the computer and opened the web based e-mail to find the URL that Randy had sent to me. When I opened the fox snake web page, it became more apparent that it had, indeed, been a fox snake.
The DNR website says fox snakes are nonpoisonous and that they eat rodents. It also says they are a type of constrictor that coils around their prey to smother it before they swallow it whole.
All I can say is, I'm glad that fox snakes aren't any bigger than what they are. And I would really appreciate it, too, if they didn't coil, hiss and strike.
If you'd like to see a picture of fox snake and read more about them, here's the link on the Wisconsin DNR website.
It's been cloudy today with a few thunder showers. Since Tuesday afternoon, we have managed to get 7/10ths of an inch of rain. That's more rain than we've had in months and months.
LeAnn R. Ralph
Tuesday, May 22, 2007, 20:46
Rescue Mission
I was just headed out the back door to get Charlie's dog food dish this morning when I heard it -- thud.
Only moments before I had heard a male Baltimore oriole singing by the dish of jelly on top of the bird feeder.
And sure enough. When I opened the door, I saw him. The Baltimore oriole had flown into the dining room window and was lying on the ground.
"Are you all right?" I said.
The bright orange and black Baltimore oriole was not moving. His eyes were open and his eyes were blinking. But he was not moving.
I knew I had to do something to help him. If I left the bird lying there until he came to his senses, Charlie or one of the cats was sure to find him, and that would be the end of the Baltimore oriole.
I looked around for something to help him with and spied the hummingbird-feeder-hanger-upper up few feet away.
The the hummingbird-feeder-hanger-upper is a narrow piece of board with two nails hammered into the end so I can hook the hummingbird feeder string over it and lift the feeder up to the hook by the kitchen window.
I grabbed the the hummingbird-feeder-hanger-upper and nudged the oriole with it.
He was still dazed, but to my complete amazement, he grabbed hold of the two nails and inched into the board.
Slowly and carefully I stood up. The wind is blowing out of the east/southeast today at 20 to 30 mph, and I didn't want the wind to blow the poor bird off his perch.
Inch by inch, I lifted the oriole toward the bird feeder. When I got as high as the bird feeder platform, I slowly pushed the board onto the platform. I was able to push it far enough forward so that it balanced on the bird feeder. The oriole sat there, not moving.
I picked up Charlie's dog dish and went into the house to mix up his breakfast.
"I hope the oriole is going to be okay," I said to my Shetland sheepdog Pixie, who had stationed herself beside my feet. She knew it was time for breakfast, and she didn't want to miss a single moment of the preparations.
As I mixed up Charlie's breakfast, I watched the oriole through the kitchen window. He was still sitting in the bird feeder, not moving. I continued to watch him, until all of a sudden he shook himself. Then he began to preen his feathers.
I waited a few minutes before taking Charlie's food out to him. When I opened the door, the Baltimore oriole flew off. He was wobbly. But he was able to fly. And he was able to make it to the lilac bush.
"Here Charlie!" I called.
Charlie trotted up from around the east side of the house, ready for his breakfast.
I was late getting out to feed the horses this morning and to take care of the dogs because I had two sizable newspaper articles to finish and submit to the newspaper.
On my way up from the barn, Charlie had followed me to the basement where I had gotten some water to water my volunteer tomatoes. I had gone up through the basement, and fortunately, Charlie had stayed down by the basement door. If I had come up around the outside of the house, Charlie would have followed me, and the Baltimore oriole probably would have been history as soon as he hit the window.
There are people who believe that "everything happens for a reason." I'm not sure if they believe that it applies to every little thing that happens every moment of every day, but if I needed a "reason" to be late feeding the horses and the dogs this morning, the Baltimore oriole certainly was a very good reason.
With any luck at all, the Baltimore oriole will be all right and will be able to raise his young ones with Mrs. Oriole. I watched a male Baltimore oriole a few years back as he brought his youngsters to the bird feeder to show them where to find jelly. It was fascinating to watch the male oriole feeding jelly to the young orioles.
Hang Onto Your Hat -- and Everything Else That's Not Nailed Down -- As for the weather, Monday -- after being so cold on Sunday -- turned out to be hot and humid. It is hot and humid today, too, with practically gale-force winds out of the south. I had to go to a boat landing not far from here today for a DNR fieldtrip, of sorts.
DNR officials were touring various parts of Dunn County, and the lake, which turns pea-soup paint-green in the summer with algae was one of their stops. When I was a kid, you could swim in the lake when it was green.
Nowadays, the blue-green algae is so thick, it is toxic, and warnings are posted at the boat landings not to swim in the water or to let your pets drink the water. The DNR has done a good job of reducing phosphorus from point sources (wastewater treatment plants) upstream, but the non-point sources (run-off from fields and the natural phosphorus in the soil) are harder to control.
The wind is so strong today that when I was standing at the boat landing, the air looked like fog was moving in. It wasn't fog. It was dirt from farm fields that have just been planted. The soil is so dry that it is easy for the wind to pick it up.
LeAnn R. Ralph