Boy!
And I thought I was lucky!
It
was a warm, summer day when we left the rural parkland after an afternoon even.
We were tired, but happy as we settled into the mini-van and pulled away down
the gravel driveway on our way home.
I
was just settled in my seat, thinking we were done for the day and could relax,
when Auntie set everyone’s pulses racing again when she cried out and swerved
the van to a sudden stop!
“A
snake!” She said!
We
all craned our necks for a look. What did she mean a snake? We’d all been
coming out here for years – for some of us, a lifetime – and had never seen a
single snake. The nature books all say they’re here, but no one had seen one.
At least not for a long, long time.
Now
here was a snake in the middle of the road?
But
there he was! When I leapt out of the vehicle I could see him immediately,
lying in the gravel like the letter “S”. He lay there squirming and sticking
his wee tongue out at me as Auntie assured us he was harmless. Just your
regular, everyday garter. Not a drop of venom to his name. He was dark, I
noticed, with gold colored diamonds along his small, skinny form. He had a
little oblong head, the only thing that separated his front from his back. He
was, otherwise, a continuous line. I don’t remember hearing a sound from him.
He lay there just long enough for me to grab a snapshot before he slithered off
into the ditch towards the forest and disappeared somewhere in the tall, cool
grass, somehow managing to retain his "S" shape as he went.
I
thought I was pretty lucky, getting a snake sighting like that. Pretty great!
As
it turns out, that was absolutely nothing compared to the sightings some folks
are treated to.
That
is, IF you consider a snake sighting to be a treat.
If
not, there are at least two places you might want to avoid.
The
first one is in Southern Illinois. In just a couple
of weeks in mid-March until May, they’ll actually completely shut down a 2 ½
mile (4 km) road, just for the snakes. Around 35 species of the
slithering creatures will perform their spring migration from the caves where
they wait out the cold months, to the ponds and sloughs where they spend the
summer. They’ll take the same trip in reverse in the fall.
And
they’re not the only ones. They’ll be joined by the turtles, newts, salamanders
and other critters of those particular woods for what sounds like a really
interesting commute.
But
it’s not the stampede you’re picturing. At least, not anymore.
Once
upon a time, they say, at the right time during migration, that road could look
like a big, plate of spaghetti because of the huge load of travelers moving
across all at once. But passing motorists killed way too many of them, even
sometimes making a kind of sport or game of trying to flatten them. Other
people would try to “collect” them, capturing snakes for – what? – pets, study,
curiosity? Who knows what reason. But either way, it meant quickly depleting
numbers for the creatures.
So,
a little more than 40 years ago, a clever forest ranger came up with the idea
of shutting down that road during peak migration periods. You can walk or bike
there, during migrations, but permanent metal gates will keep your car back.
Also, collecting is no longer permitted.
Up
in Manitoba in Canada they’ve chosen a
whole other approach to a very similar problem. Here, too, the local snake
population makes a bi-annual trek from their winter caves to their summer
ponds. They’re a bit further North, where the weather’s a bit cooler, so that
trek won’t start until April. But these snakes have a different habit.
Somewhere between the caves and the ponds, they stop to make little baby
snakes. Right there. Out in the open. Why not? It’s all part of Mother Nature’s
schedule, right? It’s quite a sight to see, they say. They’ll all heap on top
of one another making a massive pile until they all look like Medusa’s wig,
down there in the grass. Platforms have been installed for safe and distant
viewing.
But
what about the cars? Well, they’ve come up with a very good plan to resolve that
problem. They built little tunnels under the road especially for the snakes.
Good thinking!
That
way, they’ll be around for the next generation to admire, too.
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