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| Milksnake |
Milksnake in Mark's Hand
For most people, the July 4th weekend means fireworks and barbecue. When you are married to a herpetologist, searching for snakes is part of the festivities. On a hot summer day, I enjoy milkshakes. My husband Mark enjoys milksnakes.
Excerpt from Mark's journal for July 5, 2015
The
Spring rains nourished the sand dune country of Roggen, Colorado, home to
milksnakes, green racers, bullsnakes, six lined racerunners, prairie
rattlesnakes, and box turtles. Going into the Fourth, the rains weren’t heavy,
but I was determined to find a milksnake, lampropeltis triangulum,
subspecies-multistriata. Telling Jeanie about my Roggen sand hill adventure,
she was worried that I would be kidnapped by aliens, hit by an Amtrak train,
drive off the road, or die of heat stroke. So she accompanied me to Roggen,
little more than a granary station two hours north of Denver. She sat in an
overheated truck next to the highway while I hiked the sandy terrain of [my son] Isaiah’s youth.
Note from me: I was concerned about him herping by himself, but he is slightly exaggerating. I never mentioned aliens, but Roggen would be a good flat place for them to land.
The habitat was drier than expected, and the Burlington
Northern Railroad had ripped the soil on both sides of the tracks for twenty
yards. The huge clawed ripper disturbed kangaroo tunnels, box turtle homes, and
the sandy trails supporting the two local lizards-the prairie lizard
(Sceloporus garmani-a cutie), and the green tropical looking six-lined race
runner.
A bit disheartened, I hiked to my
area of snakey success. By my figuring, I’ve caught and photographed three
generations of milksnakes by a particular blue and white car door. My first was
a juvenile milksnake, red-white-and orange banded, which fit in the middle of
my palm, and was my first milksnake ever. Years later, I caught and
photographed another one, and today, I photographed the great grandson of them
all. Peering through a dilapidated plywood hole, I spotted a banded beauty
moving below me. With a rehearsed routine, I flipped the board and caught the
multistriata milksnake before it had a chance to escape down his hidey hole.
My trophy milksnake was photographed
in hand, in my straw hat, in a green butterfly net, and against his native
sandy soil. The snake often tried to escape, but a little tap near his black
snout, and I was able to force him into a photogenic coil. Milksnakes make
great photographic subjects, and I was glad to find another member of the
family tree. He was returned safely to his hidey hole beneath the plywood.
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| Milksnake in Mark's Hat |
We spotted a large jackrabbit
bounding through the yucca and sage. If you’re accustomed to viewing yard
bunnies, a jack rabbit looks like a huge animal. With ears shooting upward, the
jack rabbit bounded in enormous strides over the sandy terrain until it was out
of sight. This was a particular treat since jack rabbits haven’t been spotted
in this part of Colorado. At least, not to my knowledge. We’ve never seen them
in Roggen before.
Note from me: I wish that we had gotten a photo of the jackrabbit. It was almost the size of a jackalope.
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| Jackalope Source: rememberingletters.wordpress.com |
Heeding Jeanie’s advice, we
relocated to Barr Lake, home to mating pairs of Bald Eagle. Walking the
boardwalk, we saw yellow warblers, white American pelicans, mallard ducks, and
a juvenile Northern Harrier. Water saturated cottonwoods provide a heronry to
the Great Blue Heron, and other nesting birds. I’ve seen a few Blue Heron along
the South Platte, but a large male sported a wingspan exceeding six feet. It’s been a while for me, but I spotted a
male Bullock’s Oriole in breeding colors. Somewhat reminiscent of the Baltimore
Oriole, they are a striking orange color.
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| Barr Lake |
Don’t worry, Jeanie enjoyed the
boardwalk, and was later rewarded for her efforts. We dined at Chili’s to enjoy
some air conditioning and food. She was glad to return to civilization, knowing
that aliens had not kidnapped me, the Amtrak train missed me, and I managed not
to drive into a lonesome ditch.
Note from me: It was an adventure, and it made Mark very happy.
