Mothers are defensive — ferocious, in fact. A bird, for example, will take on an animal much larger than itself in an attempt to defend her young. Our tenants on the back downspout have been proving this.
Come out, for example, onto the back deck while she’s feeding, and she’ll attack — positively attack.
A single, sudden movement while standing too close was all it took. In a flash, the nestlings became fledgelings, though perhaps a bit prematurely. One by one, they leaped from the nest, fluttering down to the ground in a storm of molting down, landing with a thump, tumbling forward onto their chests briefly before righting themselves with an awkward hop. They went down in such a tail spin that it was difficult to imagine how they could possibly fly back up.
Mention “snake” or “reptile” and a lot of people have very negative reactions, from shudders to shouts and just about everything in between. Snakes are probably one of the most feared animals in existence, but it’s an odd reality: most are relatively harmless.
Yet it’s really a taught fear, in some cases on purpose. It makes sense in a way: most people can’t tell the difference between venomous and non-venomous snakes, so it’s only natural to teach a child to stay away from all snakes at all costs.
Fortunately, I’ve never really had a fear of snakes. Indeed, they’ve always fascinated me. I’d like my children to have the same attitude I have: a healthy respect for snakes in the wild (i.e., never touch them) and an understanding that snakes in captivity are another question altogether. If, for example, a lecturer comes with dozens of snakes and lizards and offers the children an opportunity to touch and even, with adult help, to hold the snakes, I’d take the gentleman up on his offer, which is just what happened today.
Ron Cromer, with his Snakes Alive program, came to a local library as a reward for kids participating in the summer reading program. According to the program’s web site,
Many people who enjoy nature become profoundly distressed upon encountering a snake. Some folks feel that the only good snake is a dead snake. Learning about snakes provides an opportunity to replace fear and misconception with knowledge. It is our goal to provide knowledge and a safe opportunity to meet these reptiles in hopes of alleviating some fear.
Kids learned about how to distinguish venomous and non-venomous snakes in the area and had a chance to replace some of the old myths (snakes are slimy, cold, dangerous) with some new-found realities. To that end and with adult help, seventy or so kids got the chance to touch snakes and even hold them if they were willing.
I volunteered with the other adults to help out with the snakes, thinking it would be a great chance to help the Girl develop a healthy attitude about snakes. She was willing to touch but was not interested in holding.
And this was certainly the case with the star of the show, Rosie, an enormous python that Cromer, by law, has to keep doubly contained, in a duffle bag that’s pad-locked in a wooden trunk.
The routine was to be simple: eight adults would initially hold Rosie while providing kids with the opportunity to touch her and even help hold her. But first, we had to get her out,
which was a multi-step process
that seemed never-ending
as we pulled and added person after person,
until finally, we had the whole, enormous Rosie out. Once we were all solidly in possession of our bit of snake (“Have some snake,” Cromer said has he guided us in Rosie’s extraction), our host informed us that we were in fact to lift the snake above our heads for full effect.
I thought he was joking.
He wasn’t.
The Girl, by this time, had fled to the “Snake-free Zone” Cromer had set up for kids and adults (mainly the latter) who didn’t really feel comfortable being near snakes. It wasn’t so much the snakes that drove her there as the crowd: a large group of people means almost instant uneasiness for her. And if that’s what she takes away from the day, that people are much more threatening than snakes, then it was definitely a success.
Photos with me in them were taken by a neighbor who met us there.
In the process of saving a Leyland cypress from being utterly destroyed by a vast infestation if bagworm moths, I’ve been removing and killing hundreds (possibly closer to a thousand by now) of bag-encased larvae. Violence in the effort to save a tree.
I discovered a new risk today.
As I was working to trim the tree and remove the bagworm larvae, I heard the constant call off a bird. It was a distressing call, and I realized I must be near the nest. I moved my ladder a few feet to the east, climbed up, glanced down, and was started with what I saw.
I only made a slight motion, and the three chicks suddenly raised up about four inches, mouths open, willing to ingest whatever was placed there.
My old addiction
Makes me crave only what is best
Like these just this morning song birds
Craving upward from the nest
These tiny birds outside my window
Take my hand to be their mom
These open mouths
Would trust and swallow
Anything that came along
It’s not just the risk of willingly accepting anything as food that makes a small bird’s life precarious. As they raised their almost featherless bodies from the nest, they swayed, nearly blind, their heads too heavy for their underdeveloped necks. It seemed miraculous that they didn’t fall out of their nests.
For over two hours, I was working not more than three feet from a nest chicks so young they were barely beginning to get feathers. Had I situated my ladder eighteen inches to the left, I probably would have destroyed the nest.