Once more to the
South in Spring: Arise! ye Noble
Herper, from to seek in And there, behold thy
destiny --- Coluber constrictor constrictor.
Well, what did you
expect, an Indigo? Actually, this particular snake displayed
behavior I had previously seen in Indigos, but never before in a Racer. It was late March in North Carolina, where my
brother lives, the start of what has become my annual trip to volunteer with
a Rattlesnake research project in South Carolina. Ron was unable to join me this time, so I
stopped off en route for a weekend of NC herping with him. Started off in When I flipped a sheet of tin and the inevitable
occurred, I wasn’t surprised, but then the snake did something I didn’t
expect. Instead of staying still or
streaking away, it began to slowly crawl back and forth, making no attempt to
escape. First it would nose around the
base of the upright tin, as if searching for an opening to the other side,
but when the snake found an opportunity it just pulled back and continued to
move about. Sometimes it would head
away from me and the tin, with nothing to stop it from disappearing into the
open field, but then the Racer would mysteriously double back, cautiously
crawling in circles, never moving more than a few feet from where it had been
disturbed. At first I thought the snake hadn’t noticed me,
and was therefore not startled enough to flee. But if I made a move the tail would vibrate
and the Racer would face me, recoiling into a lateral S, obviously reacting to my presence.
And then it put on the Indigo display.
Raising the upper third of its body, the Racer flared its neck
vertically and presented itself sideways to emphasize its expanded profile,
just I have seen in the past with Drymarchon,
but never before with Racers.
Interestingly enough, after all these years of finding Racers without
observing this behavior, I witnessed the same unhurried crawling in circles
and elevated neck flaring when I flipped another Coluber the following day, this time when the weather was even
cooler. I wonder if this response is
linked to lower temperatures; perhaps the snakes sense they don’t have
sufficient energy to make a quick escape, and so they rely on a defensive
display instead of flight? Whatever
the reason, I was fascinated and extremely gratified to discover something
new about a species I’ve seen so often and frequently taken for granted. My apologies to Racers everywhere. That afternoon Ron and I went to explore the Uwharries, an isolated
range of small mountains in central Mitch took us for a late-day hike along railroad tracks that often
produce Rattlesnakes, Ratsnakes, and Kingsnakes for him, but that afternoon
we found only (can you guess?) Racers, although Ron did spot a Fence Lizard
riding the rails.
We climbed the bluffs beside the tracks, hoping to find a horridus coiled among the boulders on
the steep slope. As Mitch was coming
down he glanced in a crevice and caught a glimpse of pattern, which turned
out to be a juvenile Corn Snake nestled in a bed of leaves. It occurred to me afterwards that this was
the first time I’d seen a Corn Snake in a montane outcropping, hiding in
habitat more associated in my mind with Rat Snakes and Timber Rattlesnakes. Again, a new discovery about a familiar
species, which helped make the outing successful despite the lack of target
species.
While Ron and Mitch
were off climbing the hillside, I was sitting at the base of the rocks when I
heard a rustle in the dry leaves on the ground. Not quite the scurrying sound of a mouse or
a bird or a lizard, it was something smaller and more delicate. I got up to investigate and was treated to
the sight of a Luna Moth emerging from the leaf litter. When Luna Moth larva
are ready to pupate in the Fall, they come down from the trees where they
have been feeding and spin their cocoon in a loose wrapping of leaves on the
forest floor. In Spring the
transformed moths break out of their cocoons, rising from beneath the leaf
litter and crawling towards the closest tree. They climb the trunk, and there they rest
to expand and harden their shriveled wings, long compressed within the
cocoon, until they are ready to fly. I watched the
procession as the moth made its way across the leaves, then climb the trunk
to ornament a tree --- solitary, ephemeral, and exquisite.
OK, back to Racers. The following day was cold, cloudy, and windy, not a chance we’d find a thing. Went down to the NC sand hills, hit a few tin sites, figured it was mostly a reconnaissance mission for future trips. Did manage to flip a few small guys, see some nice birds.
Nevertheless, despite temperatures nearly in the 40s, and me herping in my winter fleece, I felt confident we could still count on Racers to make an appearance. After all, it was the South in Spring.
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