![]() This time it looked like a Junco had been the source of food. atop the downed tree was another kill site. Where I thought there was a den below, I was wrong. I knew who had cut and dropped them, and wondered if I might spy a den. It had remained attached firmly to the twig all winter because I suspected it had been parasitized by a mummy wasp.Īnd then it was uphill toward a rocky ledge that I tromped because the ground was carpeted with hemlock twigs. My finds continued for where I looked for frogs by a coppiced tree, instead I found a tussock moth caterpillar frozen in time. At that point, Alanna had to depart, but I stayed for about an hour longer and wandered along the edge of the wetland. It was there that we found more signs of life including Canada Geese,Īnd rather recent beaver works. The amphibian calls drew us to the area where a river flows through the swamp. That being said, every step we took after that included a search just in case more snakes lurked about. For a few minutes we stood and watched and then finally decided we could walk by without a problem. The sun’s rays weren’t strong, but we suspected it was trying to get warm. In her path about twenty or thirty feet from the water, another water snake. I followed Alanna until she stopped abruptly. At last we decide to move on because we heard a wetland chorus calling our names on the other side of the next hill. Why hadn’t the snake been consumed? Or the bird plucked? As usual, more questions than answers. We doubted the owl had anything to do with the deer, but what about the snake and bird? Maybe it wasn’t the owl, but some other bird of prey. It became clear that life happens by the swamp and nearby was an owl pellet filled with bones. A woodpecker had met its demise.Īnd only feet from that–a deer vertebrae. Just a few feet away, we found another kill site. Still, she continued to repeat, “I can believe I’m holding a snake.” It dangled from her hands as over and over again she said, “I can’t believe I’m holding a snake.” Her grinning grimace echoed those words.īecause she’s a collector of fine things like scat, she had brought along a bag and so into it went the snake. And what if it wasn’t really dead, though we were sure that it was. If you’ve never seen a Northern Water Snake, they are big. ĭespite the fact that we were both intrigued and a wee bit freaked out about the snake, she picked it up. Being the person she is, she got out of the muck, emptied it, and. That’s when I realized that it was dead.Īs Alanna made her way back to see it, she found a deep hole and one of her boots filled with water. For a few minutes I watched and the mouth never closed. Its mouth gaped in a fashion that could almost have been a smile. While she was still on the other side, I headed back up onto the land, and a few feet from the water I was stopped in my tracks by a large snake. Maybe we didn’t look hard enough, though Alanna did find at least one Wood Frog mass after she crossed over a log. Of course, the symphony cut off upon our arrival, and so after sitting and standing still for a few minutes, we decided to step into the water and search for egg masses. Suddenly we emerged beside the Red Maple Swamp. Peeps and wrucks and trills filled the air and we beelined their way. And so we listened and followed our ears as we bushwhacked through the woods. In the end, we each took a break from work and met at Lakes Environmental Association’s Highland Lake Research Forest.Īlanna said we could get away with calling it work because we were, after all, conducting research–on where the vernal pools were located.
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