Snake Rescue

Every year, we hear of fish and sea animals becoming tangled in human trash - from fishing line to soda pop plastic bottle holders. Then there is the occasional video of a raccoon with its head stuck in a jar. I never expected such an event in Bittersweet Woods.

It happened on a Saturday afternoon recently. Our three grandchildren had just arrived for their annual week long visit. All of us started out on a daily ritual dog walk - their mastiff and boxer, along with our two old english sheepdogs. We ambled along the lower yard, headed for the trail along the creek.

I noticed a dark spot in the grass. Figured it was some yard detritus or a forgotten flower pot. Then it came more fully into view - a black rat snake with..........something. First I thought the snake had some prey wrapped up. Then to my dismay I could see that the snake was entangled in a ball of plastic netting the size of a soccer ball.

The snake was not going to live long in that state. It had only limited mobility, could not constrict any prey, and was likely unable to swallow anything. We snapped into rescue mode. I carried the snake to the house. Connor and Suz hustled after the tools needed to cut away the netting - scissors and fine cuticle scissors.




I held the snake while Connor cut away the larger outer netting cluster. The snake had become so entangled that cords of the netting dug were creased into its skin. Suz put on the most powerful reading glasses she has and went to work on the netting imbedded in the skin. In a few minutes, the snake was unbound; the last of the netting fell away.




Connor held it for the photo opportunity session. Then we marched down to a wood pile and released it. Fortunately, it seemed to move normally. It had probably been bound up for some time and may not have lived much longer.




The experience was unique, and gratifying. The grandkids had all participated, learned that snakes are not hostile monsters, and that humans can exert a negative
(and in this case, positive) influence on our natural environment.

It was one more lesson in life from Bittersweet Woods.

Raccoons r us

I took the dogs for an early morning hike down the trail before leaving for golf. It was the least I do for Suz before I vanished for several hours of shamelessly unproductive recreation. She was busy getting ready for a major landscaping project.

The sun was bright, filtering through the tree canopy. There were lots of spider webs. Some were on my face after I walked through them. Wood thrushes offered up their fluted songs, silently flitting away as the dogs and I moved down the trail.

We reached the top of the steep hill which drops down to the waterfall area of the creek. The dogs took off down the hill and across the creek. Then they stopped, on alert. The was more crunching in the underbrush; something was moving around. I figured it was a turkey or squirrels.

I scanned the area and saw nothing. Then I notice a dark object scurrying up a large tree. It was a raccoon - appeared to be a juvenile. They are cute enough, but they can be ferocious if cornered. Then a high pitched snarling pierced the quiet of the valley. The dogs had apparently cornered another raccoon. The snarling kept on. Gabbie and Tess weren't backing off. I couldn't see yet as I hurried down the hill. My concern was if the dogs persisted too much, the raccoon could inflict some uncomfortable scratches or bites.

When I arrived, there were two dogs facing one petrified juvenile raccoon trapped in the water. In it's haste to get away it had landed in a deep pool of the creek. Only its head was visible above water. It was making enough noise to be mistaken for a mountain lion. But I had heard the sound before, so I knew instantly what was going on. With the coon in the water, the dogs could move in close. But they sheepishly backed off every time another round of snarling erupted.

I coaxed them away from the coon. It slunk from the water, looked back, and gave us a final passing snarl.

We often see coon tracks in the creek bed, but have rarely seen one before. Several years ago, coons were terrorizing our yard at night. We would set out live traps and relocate the trapped ones elsewhere. That is where I became familiar with the hissing and snarling.

Another day, another curious critter encounter in Bittersweet Woods.

Love in the afternoon

It was April 24, 2010, a warm and sunny day. Suz and I walked the dogs down the trail, as we do most days. We rounded a jog in the trail, headed for the waterfall. I glanced up and couldn't believe what I saw. It was a snake curled up on an ironwood tree branch extending out near the trail, about 15 feet above ground. As I looked closer, there were so many loops of snake that it must be a huge snake. Or, was it two snakes interlocked? I walked around the tree and finally saw the head of the second snake.

Apparently they were mating, in broad daylight for all to see. We coaxed the dogs out of the way - they never even noticed the snakes draped above us. I ran to get the camera. Click click. Pretty amazing. We would probably never see anything like that again. But we did. For the next week, we saw these snakes 2 more times in the same place, in the same pose, at about the same time. Then they disappeared, except we saw two snake skins hanging from the branches of that ironwood tree several days later.

Somewhere in Bittersweet Woods there are black rat snake youths roaming around, along with the parents. I'm sure we'll see some of them again - at home in Bittersweet Woods.

Emily the Explorer

Emily, on left, with sister Catrina.

It was Easter weekend 2010. Sunday capped off a beautiful week of unseasonably warm weather. Granddaughter Emily (age 8)asked me if we could explore the creek after church. Sure, I added enthusiastically, figuring I might not hear any more about it.

She and her brother Connor had a wonderful time exploring the creek last summer. But the novelty wore off because we were doing some brush and logjam clearing. He had no interest this time. The exploring terminology reminded me of one of her favorite TV shows for preschoolers - Dora the Explorer. After church she asked again. So, we pulled on rubber boots, and went exploring for real.

This time we kept the work part more manageable - mainly picking up large branches, clipping off intrusive multiflora rose, and clearing small log jams. It's fun to explore the creek. We get to walk through the water and mud while hopping over occasional logs. The stream has several nice rivulets and small waterfalls. I pointed out deer and racoon tracks. Several birds chirped in the background, flitting around in the canopy above us, carefully monitoring our intrusion into their space. Some wildflowers were out. Two frogs and a crawdad roiled the water briefly as we sloshed by them. Water striders roamed the still pools, defying gravity with their knack for using surface tension to walk on water.

We approached the waterfall, the highlight of any trip down the creek. First we had to check out a suspicious object on the hill above the falls. Suz had observed a white patch and an old lawn chair up on the hill. For months, we commented on it every time we hiked by it, but had never actually gone up to see it. She wanted to know what it was, but was fearful the object would be a decayed corpse, abandoned still, or other sinister object.

We bushwacked bravely up the hill. We came upon the remains of a former camp, most likely that of neighborhood teens. There was a chair, collapsed table, and the dreaded white object - which we could definitively indentify as an old sleeping bag with the insulation exposed. We could now report that these items were harmless. The area is secure. Law enforcement need not be called in.

We next explored the falls itself. I kept expecting Emily to say that she'd had enough exploring and could we go back home. Nope. And my subtle hints that we might be missed at home went unheeded. We needed to keep going. The area below the falls is pretty - very wide open, free of blockages, and has several fairly deep pools. We explored that area and could see and hear traffic on the Interstate.



Finally, I had to declare the exploration over. "Why?" she asked. "Because they'll wonder where we are," I answered. We hiked back. A chipmunk skittered across the trail. It was a magical grandkid experience for me - a special time that could easily be overlooked in the hubbub. She may forget about it, but our brief Bittersweet Woods creek expedition will stay with me forever.

Spring on steroids

April has been incredible so far. After a harsh winter, spring has exploded into a wonderland of color and new life. I call it spring on steroids. I look out any window and see flowers and blooming trees in every direction. The amazing thing is that many of these flowering plants almost never are out at the same time. Now they are all out in a frenzied blaze of color.

Usually, there is a predictable sequence. First daffodils in late February, then forsythia, then red bud trees, then flowering crabapple trees. Then in late April and May, we start to see dogwood trees and then in early may Azalea blooms. This year, the first week April greeted us with an uninterrupted string of 80 degree days. That gave the new growth a boost. We are seeing azaleas in bloom, along with the last of daffodils and forsythia.

Here are a few shots showing the unlikely combinations of bloomers. It's beautiful; enjoy your version of spring in Bittersweet Woods while you can.