Of Baby Snakes and Of Baby Plural Of Moose.

During the very wet Summer Of 2005 we had more than our share of rain, more than our share and someone else’s share, and then we got a special bonus collection of rain at half price and then we got some more rain. The dried up pond beside my house became a lake, and the lake moved into the back yard.

 Bert was ecstatic.

Bert loves water and he went the better part of a year without being dry for more than a few hours at the time. The Spring of 2006 was interesting because of all the water. But the water also had its drawbacks, and one of those drawbacks was that we had a lot more of everything that comes with water......

Because there was more water, there were more frogs and fish. Because there were more frogs and fish there were more predators that ate frogs and fish. The predators were namely large wading birds, which I really like, and small venomous snakes, which I have no problem with but there were so damn many of them. Finding a small cottonmouth a day in the backyard became a little weird to say the least. Weird because ( I mean other than there were venomous snakes hangin' out with the dogs) Spring is not when Cottonmouths are born, they are usually born in late Augst oe so.

They don’t hatch out of eggs like many snakes do: they are ovoviviparous, which is to say that the female Cottonmouth gives birth to the babies in a very thin casing, not a true egg and the baby snakes are ready to fend for themselves at birth. But these, and there were a lot of them, looked to be from the Summer of 2005 litter. They were all about a foot to eighteen inches long, they were actually of the Eastern Cottonmouth subspecies, which are lighter in color, but strikingly similar in temperament, no pun intended.

 I do not want to give anyone the wrong impression about the Cottonmouth. Some people claim they are mean spirited evil creatures bent on killing anyone who crosses their path. The truth is that give an opportunity to kill you they are more likely to take a shot at it more than any other species of venomous reptile I’ve ever known. The Peterson Field Guide for Reptiles and Amphibians has this to say about the Cottonmouth “never handle a live one”. The book covers all four different species and two dozen or so subspecies of venomous snakes in eastern and Central North America, and the phrase “never handle a live one” shows up just one time, in regard to just one snake. Honestly, it’s not as if ever single one Cottonmouth is amped up and looking for a fight. However, I have met certain members of this species who seem to be amped up and looking for a fight. They can reach lengths of over five feet long and get as thick as a man’s arm. The little ones I wouldn’t worry too much about. Anything over three feet and you might want to reconsider doing lunch with it. Do not ever let one of these critters get inside strike range on you for any reason regardless of how big it is. It is the only species of snake that I do not trust.

 So when little ones started popping up like mushrooms in my yard I became concerned. The first one I caught and relocated. The next day I found another and wondered if it was the same one, who had migrated back. I transferred him to a river twenty miles away. The next day I found one who looked just like the first two. Now the mutts usually disregard anything so small as to not be fun killing. I did find a very dead two foot long Cottonmouth in the back yard one day, and I assumed that something other than a dog had killed it. A week deep into the invasion and I was running out of places to take small venomous snakes to run free. It was about this time an armadillo got tangled up in my gate, the dogs went over the deep end barking at it. ( at 2am) I was outside in my bare feet trying to referee. To make a long story short, a small Cottonmouth was there, I tried to kick him to death, Bert got upset and charged the snake while I was holding by his collar, he flipped on the ground, I lost the flashlight, the snake got away, and the armadillo was saved, eventually.

After that, as far as the dogs were concerned, it was on.

I started finding dead Cottonmouths in the yard, not live ones. The dogs, having discovered that I was actively seeking the destruction of these critters went after them with a will. After they killed a dozen or so, the population was either thinned, or they decided that being shook to death by a dog wasn’t the way to go.

Here’s the whole point of all of this, really; I think the Cottonmouths came into the yard to begin with to get away from the wading birds. Think about it. There isn’t any food inside the backyard. These are immature snakes ill suited for suitors. The only explanation left is they thought being close to mutts and me were the lesser of evils. I came up with this theory and everyone else thought I was nuts. Maybe, but I think nature as whole runs a very orderly ship, and if you can figure out the rigging you can tell where She sails.

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Take Care,

 Mike