Got an invite from a new
herping buddy to visit his favorite Timber Rattlesnake site in We met up early in the morning and hiked our way through a beautiful park-like forest, circling round a wooded slope till we faced a massive outcropping, the horridus hibernacula where Timbers overwinter deep inside their den.
But right now it was the beginning of summer and the snakes had dispersed. At this time of year females are likely to be gravid and would seek out spots to incubate the embryos developing inside them. Rather than laying eggs, rattlesnakes give live birth, maintaining the proper temperature for gestation by finding the right place for thermoregulation. In this case, that meant moving from the cool shade of the den site to a warmer, more exposed location. We climbed higher towards the top of the ridge, to an open spot where Dave had seen a group of basking females the week before (no, not the beach . . . we’re still talking snakes here).
Apparently the long, flat
boulders and overgrown grass offer just the right combination of temperature
and cover at these elevations. In the
early morning rattlers will rest next to the rocks, soaking up the warmth as
the stone heats up, staying close to crevices that run under the slabs of
granite. When it becomes too hot, the
snakes move out of the direct sun, retreating beneath boulders or hiding in
the tall, thick grass.
Dave and I moved
carefully as we explored the talus slope, looking along the edges for any
sign of snakes. Suddenly, Dave sees
one --- a black-phase female coiled in a space between two boulders. She’s only partially emerged from her
hiding place, and as we approach she begins to withdraw.
Dave springs into
action and manages to prevent her escape.
It’s then that we notice the snake is opaque, but with a color that
simply amazed us. When snakes are
getting ready to shed their skin, it’s normal for them to become slightly
bluish, especially around the eye caps, but the intense blue of the labial
scales on this snake’s face was the most stunning either of us had ever seen
on a snake in shed.
After photos we
returned the rattler to her hiding place and continued to poke around. Dave moves up higher to inspect a fallen
tree by a mossy area when I hear him cry out and lunge for something on the
ground. “Milksnake!” he shouts. We’re very pleased, not only because it’s a
pretty one, but also because it’s unusual to find them at such elevations in
this area.
Eventually we make our way to the place where Timbers were seen last week, all found around the same boulder. We get closer, then Dave yells, “Copperhead!” and dashes for the rock as the snake disappears underneath. He crouches down with his snakehook and tries to probe the crevice while I come up from behind. As I take a step towards Dave, something big
and heavy moves by my foot, sweeping through the dense grass with a sudden swoosh. “
At that moment I pause to think about how glad I am that just yesterday I purchased a pair of snake-proof boots, which I’m wearing today for the first time. We peel back the grass with our hooks, watching our step and listening for a rattle. A few false glances, then the snake comes into view, staying silent until we lift it from hiding and place it in the open for photos. This time it was a beautiful yellow-phase Timber with pale creamy eyes.
I was thrilled to see my first Timbers in the wild, and particularly pleased to have found one of each phase. Dave tells me there’s lots more, plus Black Rat Snakes, especially near the den in Fall and Spring. I understand why he considers it such a special place, and I’m grateful he shared it with me. Thanks, Dave.
P.S. Dave and I returned to the den in Spring
and found these scattered on the forest floor.
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