My brother Ron and
I were in I could tell it
was some kind of Natrix, so I
carefully snuck up on it and pounced (you know how skittish water snakes can
be, diving at the drop of a footfall).
Nothing. It just sat there in
my hand, making no attempt to strike or even get away. Guess he was cold, but it seemed awful
risky to me to be out in the sun fully exposed with storks about and not even
have the reflexes to drop and roll.
But I wasn't complaining, I had just caught a snake where and when I
least expected it!
I called
to Ron to come quick so he could appreciate this rare catch. As he ran over he shouted, "There's
another one!". He reached down
and now we had two.
We then noticed
that absolutely no one else on the pier was paying any attention to two
giggling Americans holding a pair of snakes.
Old ladies, little kids, young couples were all strolling by,
completely ignoring the strangers with snakes right in the middle of them. I don't know about you, but whenever I've
caught something in the company of spectators somebody always stops to stare
(or run). We assumed they were just
being polite. We took pictures and
congratulated ourselves for making such good spots, when my wife Karyn says,
"Hey, guys, here's a bunch more." She pointed to a crevice and
there was a mess of wriggling bodies, squirming like worms caught in a vice.
Then Ron sees
another, then I see one, then Karyn sees more. Some are crawling, some are basking, some
are massed with bunkmates. Going in
holes, coming out of holes. We walk
the length of the pier and declare ourselves bored when the count got
somewhere over 30 in the space of 100 yards.
Now we understood why no one paid attention; with snakes as common as
sparrows, what's to look at? P.S. The snakes were indeed a European species
of water snake, commonly known in English as the Dice Snake (Natrix tessellata).
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