tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-138016452024-03-18T00:00:29.372-07:00Philly Herping‘Herping’ is just like birding, but for reptiles and amphibians = herpetiles or herps (as in herpetology). These are the adventures of one Philly herper as he prowls the region (occasionally beyond) looking for critters to photograph and marvel at. [In case you were wondering, the word does come from the same word as herpes: ‘herpein,’ a Greek word meaning to creep.]Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.comBlogger413125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-71262283419614557492012-10-07T19:30:00.000-07:002012-10-07T19:31:08.232-07:00This isn't exactly the end of the Phillyherping blog. I'll call it brumation (the reptile equivalent of hibernation), a period of dormancy, sort of tucked into a stump hole but maybe poking out in nicer weather for little bits of activity.<br />
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I have been writing this blog for nearly seven and a half years. That's about seven cycles of herp activity - glorious, exuberant springs with peepers (<i>Pseudacris crucifer</i>) and spotted turtles (<i>Clemmys guttata</i>), summers with timber rattlers (<i>Crotalus horridus</i>) and box turtles (<i>Terrapene carolina</i>), autumns and winters with the salamanders, praying again for spring.<br />
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I can't say I'm running out of enthusiasm: each cycle is a new take on the annual phenomena. Each spotted turtle I find feels like a new friend even if it looks an awful lot like the last one (and even if the turtle itself is terrified for the duration of the reunion) is a fun encounter with a new friend.<br />
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The writing is getting a little hard to fit in, though. When I started the blog I was living alone (engaged to be married) and I had a relatively easy job as a low-level bureaucrat. Now I'm directing the office and it's harder to leave on time or play hooky on nice days, and Magnolia's arrival has eaten into the 'free' time I have. I'm not getting out as often, not for as long trips as I'd like, and when I get home it is hard to find time to sit down and write it up, which is pretty obvious given the longer-than-usual stretches between posts.<br />
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It only hit me recently that there are people (aside from relatives) who read this blog on a regular basis, and I apologize to you that I won't be writing it so regularly anymore. I am flattered that anyone reads this at all, let alone returns to read it. I appreciate the community you've provided for what is generally an oddball pursuit.<br />
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Maybe I'll think differently after the winter, but for now I'll be taking a break from weekly posting and taking the opportunity to post when I feel particularly compelled to write something.<br />
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Till then, happy herping,<br />
Bernard BrownBernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-53042983259596282842012-10-07T19:11:00.000-07:002012-10-07T19:18:22.849-07:00This post has taken so long that I've been out again to the same spot. This is a good thing because I didn't find much on the first trip, just a cute but squirmy little ringneck snake (<i>Diadophis punctatus</i>)...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXZT7sk6bx-eVQ-BnqwYWl_vHm2sUe_RZbmTZuj8RSCRGNOL6swdbb0lh4dvAudCjZUUPxeEqU4k2ohIFNMbMwvePIQ4MgP76sD-XFuH1PDcAXs_1Frh2Ba9OIgDjiYwEHNY6M/s1600/091612.d.punctatus.1.2116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXZT7sk6bx-eVQ-BnqwYWl_vHm2sUe_RZbmTZuj8RSCRGNOL6swdbb0lh4dvAudCjZUUPxeEqU4k2ohIFNMbMwvePIQ4MgP76sD-XFuH1PDcAXs_1Frh2Ba9OIgDjiYwEHNY6M/s320/091612.d.punctatus.1.2116.JPG" width="227" /></a><br />
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...and the tail of a basking rattler (<i>Crotalus horridus</i>). Now, that tail looked kind of skinny. I had to wonder if this is a girl who just gave birth and is hanging around a bit before making the hike back to the den for the winter.<br />
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On the next trip I brought Magnolia, with all the attendant handicaps and benefits. We didn't see much out in the woods, but Magnolia reminded me how to have a good time. Each tree had more bark to inspect, and these rocks weren't just good for rattlesnake housing, they were a pleasure in their own right. </div>
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So the day wasn't a total failure when I gave up (I would have asked Magnolia for her opinion but she had fallen hard asleep.) and started hiking back to the car. </div>
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And if my herping experience has taught me anything it is that you don't actually give up until the moment you shut the car door. </div>
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This is why: </div>
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This black rat snake was a beast (I don't know what it is with this road on this mountain, but I'll keep coming back), and I couldn't walk past without at least trying to make its acquaintance. </div>
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Of course I had that handicap I mentioned earlier: about nineteen pounds of baby slung on my chest. So I took the photo above, tucked the camera away, briefed Magnolia on the plan, and carefully reached for the snake in sort of a slow-motion lunge that ended with me on my knees and my left hand and with my right hand holding a warm, muscular coil of the snake, which was now waking up and winding around the vegetation. (I'll mention that it was doing so very slowly and calmly, like it was annoyed that I had woken it up but not exactly angry or scared.)</div>
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It was my left hand that informed me of the thorns. I hadn't considered the species of plant the snake chosen for its refuge, but it was all blackberry. </div>
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I realized I faced a choice: I could crawl forward and try to extricate the snake, but that would involve dragging myself and Magnolia (who was watching the snake like she wanted to grab it - she is truly my daughter) through the briers and bringing her home to her mother covered in scratches. I could also let go of the snake, which would mean not catching it as well as enduring the disappointment of Magnolia (you could argue she's too young to be disappointed, and you'd probably be right, but she'll probably read this someday and think, 'Dad, you wuss, why didn't you catch that snake?'). </div>
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I let go (for real, and I'm not just writing that because my mother-in-law reads this blog). I was sure the snake would bolt off into the woods, but instead it turned and gave me the gift of a good pose. I'm not sure if it was just a little scared and angry from having been grabbed (as if to say, 'hey there, good sir, I was taking a nap!') or just too stupid to realize I had been defeated by the briers, but it reared back in a half-hearted defensive coil before sliding away, which gave me one more halfway decent photo. </div>
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I know that a garter snake (<i>Thamnophis sirtalis</i>) isn't exactly a lunker black ratsnake, but this sighting was a little victory of its own. Many times I had walked past this spot on the road and heard a small snake retreating into the brush. Each time I had thought, 'sounds like a garter snake.' Maybe it would sound the same as a baby racer (Coluber constrictor) or any other similarly small snake, but garter is what I imagined, and garter is what I found basking right there on top of the brush along the side of the road. </div>
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I let it enjoy the sun. </div>
Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-593588214732585912012-09-21T19:19:00.002-07:002012-09-21T19:19:46.811-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL3mbunYf5LF1NT9z7hrzsdnH6gfKpqxelmg9Fpy2ae72IXUvUpBKZj9up3SV9V3PwbqL57-5XS5xUBS88fdpceiO4R2wPpsTHHb8SyVZv1mxAwv3ww8ekh3W4bQ4jUDhGi9C5/s1600/090912.birds.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL3mbunYf5LF1NT9z7hrzsdnH6gfKpqxelmg9Fpy2ae72IXUvUpBKZj9up3SV9V3PwbqL57-5XS5xUBS88fdpceiO4R2wPpsTHHb8SyVZv1mxAwv3ww8ekh3W4bQ4jUDhGi9C5/s320/090912.birds.JPG" width="320" /></a>
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No one on the bus would have guessed what I was about to do. Of course, this being Philadelphia, few if any would have cared, but something about matching an action as ordinary and urban as an bus ride on SEPTA with a great-outdoors activity like kayaking on a river while looking for turtles had me feeling a little furtive as I glanced around at the other riders.<br />
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To be sure, I did not invent taking SEPTA to a put-in site. Please take a moment to check out the <a href="http://www.dubside.net/dubside-chronicles.cfm?id=3" target="_blank">Commando Chronicles</a> by Dubside. I do wish Dubside hadn't left West Philly to move to the Pacific Northwest. I never knew the guy, but I would have loved to spend time with a man who took a folding kayak out to the Delaware in the middle of icy winter nights and tried to follow the course of miserable suburban streams in New Jersey. He apparently does not communicate by email ("I prefer ESP-mail. It's not quite as accurate, but it definitely filters out the extraneous stuff."), but he did answer one of my letters inquiring about Mill Creek, and I was inspired by the correspondence. Thus I thought of Dubside as I pulled the cord for my stop, slung the sack with the deflated kayak onto my shoulder, and thanked the driver. <br />
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I adore the transition from land to water, leaving my feet and gliding away, feeling my paddle blades bite in and propel me into the current. Even alongisde the highly-trafficked banks of the Center-City Schuylkill, with cyclists, walkers, runners, and sunbathers all in view, it marks the passage into a smoother, quieter world.<br />
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Soon I left most of my fellow Philadelphians behind and joined the select few of fellow boaters (one canoe, a few motor boats coming up from the Delaware, and four jet skiers on three jet skis (why is it always the women who ride behind the men? Why don't the women ever get to drive?)) and fishers who know the peace and beauty of the Schuylkill.<br />
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Yes, this is the same ugly river that we cross every day and wrinkle our noses at, no matter that it's been restored to the point that it again hosts American shad schools and is clean enough to splash around in as long as it hasn't rained recently.<br />
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From the water it's a river with trees along the banks, a current (or two, I guess, if you count both directions of the tide), and birds, fish, and turtles. Sure there is some trash bobbing along, and sure the storm-sewer outlets are a bit stinky, and sure there are rats poking around banks covered with bricks rather than the usual river rocks, but on balance it is still a wonderful place to spend an afternoon.<br />
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That said, the murkiness of the water saved me from making any snorkeling decisions, and I let all the turtles swim away after I got as close as I could.<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">Most were mystery. Some might have been redbellies (</span><em style="text-align: center;">Pseudemys rubriventris</em><span style="text-align: center;">), some maybe map turtles (</span><em style="text-align: center;">Graptemys geographica</em><span style="text-align: center;">), several certainly were red-eared sliders (</span><em style="text-align: center;">Trachemys scripta</em><span style="text-align: center;">).</span><br />
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I reached Bartram's Garden just as the tide was turning around and turned myself to ride it back to Center City.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuQB_tLWkfcYxIPZjJcWLJk4o_gpQHhJ8EWwboC3Kvvs5_wwDUerMpMc-979s2XWBpJnKbn8484m11-bQ1nFW4N9Fkeny0_F5etRPVdPQ7J-quYZh8-JJ4AWWcel64Z69gwJuY/s1600/090912.centercity.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuQB_tLWkfcYxIPZjJcWLJk4o_gpQHhJ8EWwboC3Kvvs5_wwDUerMpMc-979s2XWBpJnKbn8484m11-bQ1nFW4N9Fkeny0_F5etRPVdPQ7J-quYZh8-JJ4AWWcel64Z69gwJuY/s320/090912.centercity.JPG" width="320" /></a>
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Then I took the bus back home.Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-80229978830589072152012-09-09T19:19:00.002-07:002012-09-09T19:19:33.973-07:00Does persistence pay off, or does it just waste time?<br />
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I've had terrible luck finding brown snakes (<i>Storeria dekayi</i>) at what has generally been the most reliable brown snake site on earth (aside from, perhaps, the famous 'shanty town' in Ernst and Ernst's Snakes of the United States and Canada), the Mount Moriah Cemetery.<br />
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Yet I keep going. I know they're there. There's no way the entire population up and died, or moved further out into Delaware County ('Not another garter snake, Martha! There goes the neighborhood.'). I'll blame a combination of bad weather and unwieldy artificial cover. I can flip a few boards pretty easily, but a trash can full of old bathroom tiles, a pile of cinder blocks, a discarded toilet, and a six-foot tall stack of jumbled two-by-fours bristling with nails outclass even the potato rake.<br />
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And then there is the vegetation. The other-worldly succession processes, apparently distinct for each section of the cemetery, have overwhelmed innumerable carefully-placed boards and shingles so that I can't figure out where to flip anymore. The path to one of my favorite little piles of metal panels has been blocked off by an unholy union of highly-invasive Japanese knotweed and the yet-more-invasive and aptly-named-by-either-of-its-names Mile-a-Minute-Weed a.k.a. Asiatic tearthumb.<br />
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The knotweed provides eight-foot-tall banks for the tearthumb to use as a scaffold so you can't step over it, you can only trap it down with the potato rake and sort of step on it to make a path to avoid losing too much flesh. I hacked through fifty yards of this mess and found nothing.<br />
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I did find some very promising boards in another section of the cemetery, less overgrown and easy to flip. Unfortunately some wasps had found them first and drove me off.Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-83769605825915633532012-08-31T12:59:00.001-07:002023-02-13T18:38:38.469-08:00Somewhere on the south side of a ridge in the mountains of Pennsylvania, maybe three hours into our hike (me with Magnolia on my chest) I took the opportunity to needle Scott about why I don't like road cruising. I pointed out that I would rather strike out in gorgeous mountain forest like this than on blacktop at night.<br />
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I meant it. Even if we had found nothing, I still would have been able to head home with tired legs and a mental album full of majestic, rocky images like the one below of Scott inspecting a cliff face.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5YnzeuK376CAHXeYEaZSrE5txVn0HcHHng0Iw3CA4r5yV2U2tBSmI7kiAJUTzaTN5xOC9LR-YfqQCGLan6DyikaCXZCKDyBrOdfmm3vX_n2-8cmM63GPCaj2nGxEW9G5ykxQN/s1600/081912.scott.mnt.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5YnzeuK376CAHXeYEaZSrE5txVn0HcHHng0Iw3CA4r5yV2U2tBSmI7kiAJUTzaTN5xOC9LR-YfqQCGLan6DyikaCXZCKDyBrOdfmm3vX_n2-8cmM63GPCaj2nGxEW9G5ykxQN/s1600/081912.scott.mnt.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
We hadn't found any of our target timber rattlers (<i>Crotalus horridus</i>) at that point. Here are some ledges where we might have seen them if the temps had gotten out of the mid sixties or if the skies had cleared a little (cloudy and a little warmer would have worked great, and sunny at the same temps would have given us some action, even if a shorter window than the cloudy and warm scenario):<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ1UUkX4R6_EnfQ574kbiC-XxvFl6S-8E63T9uJrz9aDyoXvQDJwMaLzxjAgTIML3PvUYluAeztud3tsg2659vWhKVNn3RqmmNPQct736BBGh5vDBVekS1IiYxXuSKc1c7_vE1/s1600/081912.ledges.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ1UUkX4R6_EnfQ574kbiC-XxvFl6S-8E63T9uJrz9aDyoXvQDJwMaLzxjAgTIML3PvUYluAeztud3tsg2659vWhKVNn3RqmmNPQct736BBGh5vDBVekS1IiYxXuSKc1c7_vE1/s1600/081912.ledges.JPG" width="320" /></a> <br />
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I felt like logging something with a backbone, so Scott indulged me while I flipped rocks in a stream for salamanders. It only took me a few rocks to find this pretty two-lined (<i>Eurycea bislineata</i>).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOeGFH5qf3s5DCYlkRt-ZeUPvrMSCYFxk-1q_vrdEaQBCtSygk5Uzch-FMgnUdYXbfcJtsIYyjt8A-Lt8KcY6ZT1nFOpTCUbnXKIzvmM_gLzUKGzkVeokP7N1BsznOtYmAtRTO/s1600/081912.e.bislineata.2107.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOeGFH5qf3s5DCYlkRt-ZeUPvrMSCYFxk-1q_vrdEaQBCtSygk5Uzch-FMgnUdYXbfcJtsIYyjt8A-Lt8KcY6ZT1nFOpTCUbnXKIzvmM_gLzUKGzkVeokP7N1BsznOtYmAtRTO/s1600/081912.e.bislineata.2107.JPG" width="259" /></a> <br />
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I found a redback (<i>Plethodon cinereus</i>) but Scott game me a dirty look when I started to take out my camera.<br />
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To his credit, he scooped up this wee American toad (<i>Bufo americanus</i>):<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGlP1WFUSbyW8a1-asWtDEhVtyI6CYu-_wBikTmMQOM7051M0JpnAm6MZfqc0Xxjo5AMFsHgsb_rwrFol5voIft_avx5ig_-0WUCSg8FlJgFJ17WKhQQ4ye8pPaCR9z-P-s6Rd/s1600/081912.b.americanus.2109.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGlP1WFUSbyW8a1-asWtDEhVtyI6CYu-_wBikTmMQOM7051M0JpnAm6MZfqc0Xxjo5AMFsHgsb_rwrFol5voIft_avx5ig_-0WUCSg8FlJgFJ17WKhQQ4ye8pPaCR9z-P-s6Rd/s1600/081912.b.americanus.2109.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
We stopped to play with this female northern true katydid (thanks to James Trager for the ID).<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0DpwHJaheS1rcfNAAI-fiHC_UfZKxn_UkAPsmR3c2c2_icZXlNvkQLNKfgymgT1Q95ZZuHSOCqXZPIsAv2oyQbAMQfkZv8EPlhhnMORhN93LDzbsdZkFt-2T7XGcI80oMEM-A/s1600/081912.katydid.1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0DpwHJaheS1rcfNAAI-fiHC_UfZKxn_UkAPsmR3c2c2_icZXlNvkQLNKfgymgT1Q95ZZuHSOCqXZPIsAv2oyQbAMQfkZv8EPlhhnMORhN93LDzbsdZkFt-2T7XGcI80oMEM-A/s1600/081912.katydid.1.JPG" width="305" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOibRE8x2Czn6gmEHZRfRtYUvIKfsw1txGIi-EIueBUUki1-R_0okK5N_iZ2EFU4KR4Uk_VcBBRjpfnsH4sR2H6qI2zdqUKg7UVpvPotspNkp5C3lvFQmyz0hBvm7I4y7WIWZM/s1600/081912.katydid.2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOibRE8x2Czn6gmEHZRfRtYUvIKfsw1txGIi-EIueBUUki1-R_0okK5N_iZ2EFU4KR4Uk_VcBBRjpfnsH4sR2H6qI2zdqUKg7UVpvPotspNkp5C3lvFQmyz0hBvm7I4y7WIWZM/s1600/081912.katydid.2.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
So I can't say we were striking out completely when we realized we'd been hiking for about five hours and still had an hour back to the car.<br />
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On the dirt road back to the car, I got the sense I had to change Magnolia's diaper (ultimately I was wrong - false alarm). This would involve lifting her out of the carrier, and for whatever silly arbitrary reason I pointed to a landmark up the road and said I'd stop there. Scott asked what was wrong with where we were at the moment. I had no good answer, aside from having decided on the other spot as where I'd check the diaper.<br />
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Lucky I was being so arbitrary (or prophetic? Guided by the herping gods?), since as I stopped and got ready to pull off my backpack to get the changing pad out, I looked to my left and saw this timber basking next to the road! I think I said something like "Ooh Ooh a rattler!" and we quickly forgot the baby and started taking photos.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi80bI-TcvGI8-DJ8dqwaKX-Q7KimiftS2Dh9cS8mz9CMv9vZTUVBgPA0y0K5OtRDfOJDEF7K142iofhBz7vGKQdyHPy2fJhIleUaxt6zHFCLwMoVUMvKzdUlRo_ydq0pbuyZEy/s1600/081912.c.horridus.3.2110.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi80bI-TcvGI8-DJ8dqwaKX-Q7KimiftS2Dh9cS8mz9CMv9vZTUVBgPA0y0K5OtRDfOJDEF7K142iofhBz7vGKQdyHPy2fJhIleUaxt6zHFCLwMoVUMvKzdUlRo_ydq0pbuyZEy/s1600/081912.c.horridus.3.2110.JPG" width="320" /></a> <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUCl4j53NfM9Keyihw9qXlTHRbmv5sXYTuxpbBVeMU-0yw58gpRch-SK7nwXveUrBwmDvAqQSVAqhGgTP-6C_yrdH5lPq_FJxi9HyajT8zUWDLH1TbHqWd5y3MfeIpMBGjwQT2/s1600/081912.c.horridus.2.2110.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUCl4j53NfM9Keyihw9qXlTHRbmv5sXYTuxpbBVeMU-0yw58gpRch-SK7nwXveUrBwmDvAqQSVAqhGgTP-6C_yrdH5lPq_FJxi9HyajT8zUWDLH1TbHqWd5y3MfeIpMBGjwQT2/s1600/081912.c.horridus.2.2110.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
We spooked the rattler (poor form), and as I remembered the reason for stopping in the first place, both Scott and I noticed the same pattern of shiny coils gleaming from beneath the dry brush.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuocKDeso6TEOpoafhOP0LF68NWYFyzUV_nj-nE2rIHufe8wO2DeOtWhpSXtgXm6hJMGTAWKQzzU6DmV3q5OPMA_TNU1_KtUViyO4R8Z_GxVwLTkYfdbOtdnVAidLrmdqoHpSa/s1600/081912.p.obsoleta.2.2111.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuocKDeso6TEOpoafhOP0LF68NWYFyzUV_nj-nE2rIHufe8wO2DeOtWhpSXtgXm6hJMGTAWKQzzU6DmV3q5OPMA_TNU1_KtUViyO4R8Z_GxVwLTkYfdbOtdnVAidLrmdqoHpSa/s1600/081912.p.obsoleta.2.2111.JPG" width="320" /></a> <br />
Scott froze in amazement. I started hopping down and babbling like, well, like Magnolia. Scott reached in and very, very carefully picked the snake up. We could tell it was big, but we only got a sense of HOW big once Scott was standing upright and stretching it out a bit (I include both photos for the facial expressions).<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5L0bsTSM-QftX02N5inYGl_4MhdMd9yM8UEz89sdYwM3eXuWtk7McftfAn8Wt25qOa-4sYWe8Bi-C5Kv39rSSycSGzaR6F4XyxzHog4WdGiRbKM3bXKYNCWavYTTih2VI3GN3/s1600/081912.scott.ratsnake.1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5L0bsTSM-QftX02N5inYGl_4MhdMd9yM8UEz89sdYwM3eXuWtk7McftfAn8Wt25qOa-4sYWe8Bi-C5Kv39rSSycSGzaR6F4XyxzHog4WdGiRbKM3bXKYNCWavYTTih2VI3GN3/s1600/081912.scott.ratsnake.1.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">I have a hard time describing that degree of herping ecstasy in writing. Prior to the rattler we had been warmly satisfied with a nice day on a mountain and a few little critters. The rattler had made it a memorable trip, gleefully happy and patting each other on the back about the luck of thinking of changing the diaper where I had arbitrarily decided to do so. That big, mellow ratsnake multiplied the vibe by that same factor again, giving us a two-step, exponential increase to something that would stick with us all week (and even now that I'm writing about it again). We half expected to turn around and find a wood turtle (</span><i style="text-align: left;">Glyptemys insculpta</i><span style="text-align: left;">) with a winning lottery ticket it its mouth.</span></div>
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Last up, nice but not quite the same vibe multiplier, here is one of the green frogs (<i>Lithobates clamitans</i>) in a puddle at the side of the road. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5xLXjooXN8MXY-Yn1VmLvG3oq7hfw6BKCEYVKxpL7WlUVtX81Vzbo_l6tqOHEbo2UY-nk7VKWAApLcgcv7kFtPNMICrKmJgglVLpyUmPLwzuklpfnL_9KRKe00biIqz1W3j-d/s1600/081912.l.clamitans.2112.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5xLXjooXN8MXY-Yn1VmLvG3oq7hfw6BKCEYVKxpL7WlUVtX81Vzbo_l6tqOHEbo2UY-nk7VKWAApLcgcv7kFtPNMICrKmJgglVLpyUmPLwzuklpfnL_9KRKe00biIqz1W3j-d/s1600/081912.l.clamitans.2112.JPG" width="320" /></a>Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-83950939138825188422012-08-26T11:14:00.003-07:002012-08-26T11:14:52.003-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyPZh0oa69joGAuVAf6vU7dVfHcHiKoHeDPoiBSVsCsQa1FsMsymJlZ8NSPunDztTLb6Fg8eg7EgiVZ6E-SP0auL4x6sJ77VVLvpO6aOpZ017vxbkns4-rZ3RGzhIicnhPdViV/s1600/007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyPZh0oa69joGAuVAf6vU7dVfHcHiKoHeDPoiBSVsCsQa1FsMsymJlZ8NSPunDztTLb6Fg8eg7EgiVZ6E-SP0auL4x6sJ77VVLvpO6aOpZ017vxbkns4-rZ3RGzhIicnhPdViV/s1600/007.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><br />
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Today I wandered around the Mount Moriah Cemetery and found nothing but butterflies drawn to the red clover in the paths. I couldn't identify most of them, though I knew the buckeyes and of course the monarchs. <br />
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Still no sign of the <a href="http://phillyherping.blogspot.com/2012/08/i-like-to-throw-term-mystery-around-lot.html" target="_blank">duck pond red-eared slider </a>(<i>Trachemys scripta</i>), further strengthening the case that the DOR one on Pine Street was ours. Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-64309142472885536832012-08-19T19:45:00.000-07:002012-08-25T09:58:07.125-07:00I like to throw the term 'mystery' around a lot to indicate I don't know what kind of critter I'm looking at. For example when I say 'mystery frog' I usually mean some kind of frog that jumped in the water before I could get a good look at it. When I say 'mystery turtle' I'm usually talking about the distant basking turtle that slides in before you can get a good look. <br />
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In this case I know what kind of turtle this is (Red-eared slider - R.E.S. - <i>Trachemys scripta</i>), but by 'mystery turtle' I mean I am mystified by its location. I took this photo (sorry for the gory DOR shot - in this case I'd call it 'road pizza') half a block from my apartment building in West Philly, far from any natural body of water it could have called home.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmpBdyHhGoK3hztorwIQoqaBiiLmcMlFE7JUUqN1bbUAnlTLTJVg_LOYliWyud19xDdFgCO3N44KqrIw4bOA3RiZFfAlwaxPx8qApnvPoyS-OD0qsESBn4ez1Xohb8UHmTGvvi/s1600/081712.t.scripta.2106.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmpBdyHhGoK3hztorwIQoqaBiiLmcMlFE7JUUqN1bbUAnlTLTJVg_LOYliWyud19xDdFgCO3N44KqrIw4bOA3RiZFfAlwaxPx8qApnvPoyS-OD0qsESBn4ez1Xohb8UHmTGvvi/s1600/081712.t.scripta.2106.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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I saw it just before dawn on Friday as I was riding my bike to the Y for a pre-work swim. I was in a rush to get into the pool and expected better light once the sun was above the horizon, so, figuring it wasn't going anywhere fast, I took the photo on the way home. <br />
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Could it have been a pet? RES are native to the middle part of our country, but they are frequently kept as pets and too-frequently released into the wild. A lot (I'd bet the vast majority) of the former pets probably die, but enough have hung on to establish breeding populations in Philadelphia's waterways to possibly threaten some of our native species. In this case it was miles from the nearest likely body of water, though. It must have been a pet.<br />
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I suspect I know whose pet it was. It was ours.<br />
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Of course if it had escaped from our apartment I would have known more certainly, but that's not what I mean (and we don't have any turtles). Our building is blessed with a huge garden space on the roof of our one-story parking garage. The Upper Garden, as we call it, actually has a duck pond in the middle of it. Over the years it had become highly eutrophied, loaded with nutrients that kicked off chocking algae blooms, turning the water to the consistency of spinach souffle - yum.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeKc88SQQNCO6FAfqtkbH8o5G55K1OHVTtJdCZBWaZTnaOCU-QP0bnPmQdNSsfNRA6L3_Iaq8rmnhaqMG8WTA_pavr9mSSD0tVAg3T3vB9llC_ZPnq9Fbsn1j8EFdIK7eM5sxQ/s1600/DOR.RES.map.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeKc88SQQNCO6FAfqtkbH8o5G55K1OHVTtJdCZBWaZTnaOCU-QP0bnPmQdNSsfNRA6L3_Iaq8rmnhaqMG8WTA_pavr9mSSD0tVAg3T3vB9llC_ZPnq9Fbsn1j8EFdIK7eM5sxQ/s1600/DOR.RES.map.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Upper Garden, showing pre-mucked out pond and turtle DOR location</i></td></tr>
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Early this spring a couple neighbors and I finally decided to clean out the pond (our management has shown a high level of indifference to the Upper Garden - great in that it lets us garden the space how we see fit, which is why I have an enormous vegetable garden in the middle of a high city), employing a rented pump, shovels, and buckets to empty it of about 20,000 gallons of water and muck. Then one of the building's plumbers took over. It turns out the guy is a backyard pond enthusiast, and pretty soon our duck pond was hosting a range of aquatic plants and a school of goldfish. It was really gratifying to have our hard work pay off to the point that an expert wanted to take it from there and make a real pond out of our former muck pit. <br />
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I wasn't happy, though, when he tossed in a RES. I was thinking basic husbandry thoughts like, 'so, who is going to feed the turtle? What do we do in the winter - who is going to take it in to hibernate?'<br />
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I hadn't imagined that the turtle might somehow get out of the pond, cross the grass to a section of the edge of the Upper Garden with a fence that a turtle could fit under, tumble over the side onto the sidewalk, and then walk into Pine Street to get mashed into the asphalt. But it's been a few days since we've actually seen the pond turtle, so now I'm really wondering if the mystery turtle is ours. I guess if we see the pond turtle again we'll know who the mystery turtle isn't, but if we don't...? Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-53869871424357948032012-08-11T07:50:00.004-07:002012-08-11T07:50:48.468-07:00Check out page 24 of the<a href="http://www.gridphilly.com/grid-magazine/september-2012-041.html%20" target="_blank"> latest issue of Grid</a>. <br />
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I finally wrote about my Philly milksnake (<i>Lampropeltis triangulum</i>) obsession. The article features a photo of a gorgeous Valley Forge milk taken by local herper Dave Fitzpatrick.Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-48837147927273178322012-08-09T19:40:00.000-07:002012-08-09T19:40:00.031-07:00<br />
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Sometimes I forget that most people don't know what 'DOR' means. Indeed why should normal people need a term to refer specifically to animals that are 'Dead On the Road?' I suppose it implies searching for creatures that would be, by contrast, alive on the road, which I figure only herpers do.<br />
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However wrenching it can be to see a beautiful creature killed by accident, DOR isn't completely a bad thing. It's terrible for the animal, of course, and the cumulative effects of 'road mortality' can indeed be a major threat to populations of snakes, turtles, and other animals, but you can still learn a lot from a DOR herp: namely that the species occurs where you found the corpse, and that it was moving from some point A to another point B (divided by the road) near in time to when you found it.<br />
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On Sunday I knew I wouldn't get to ride my bike to work for a few days, so I decided to go out for a nice ride along the Schuylkill. On the way I figured it couldn't hurt to do some herping, so I checked out a large vacant field that<a href="http://phillyherping.blogspot.com/2006/05/ah-smell-of-snake-musk-in-morning-its.html" target="_blank"> I first herped for brown snakes (<i>Storeria dekayi</i>) in 2006</a>. A lot has happened in the six years since (dear lord, this makes me feel old), including development to a section of neighboring lot where I suspected the brown snake population largely hibernated, but the place looked pretty similar. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhelj_9DUhMGYUHtGZuZgdJMKz2fGsz3KAensmSKGp6TGZ_NzmnX6xqMuZ7j8_vTo-UZ8Sh4AqbkhVG9eTQlAu7Qa2W6ckyOWcvXWpjASOFjLMqLKeAJ-0JtRKR3HAnWx131tSL/s1600/080512.field.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhelj_9DUhMGYUHtGZuZgdJMKz2fGsz3KAensmSKGp6TGZ_NzmnX6xqMuZ7j8_vTo-UZ8Sh4AqbkhVG9eTQlAu7Qa2W6ckyOWcvXWpjASOFjLMqLKeAJ-0JtRKR3HAnWx131tSL/s320/080512.field.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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It was still overgrown with weeds, except where horses kept the vegetation cropped. These are horses that belong to some of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fletcher_Street_Urban_Riding_Club" target="_blank">Philadelphia's black cowboys</a>, locals who you'll sometimes see roaming the streets of West Philly in the saddle and giving rides to local kids.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTAPiAEi3xe-nCkVY0sj7DMO8gcEfJPpkLTvvgKWCkW5M7cWlZg6Cr6CYHUWt_MDF3hKERtZoyfF3ZlUT-vw6vdu2Qqs37LwabDqbLziDyjYBkFz23ROWU-MUR63JoyF_mVcm4/s1600/080512.horse.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTAPiAEi3xe-nCkVY0sj7DMO8gcEfJPpkLTvvgKWCkW5M7cWlZg6Cr6CYHUWt_MDF3hKERtZoyfF3ZlUT-vw6vdu2Qqs37LwabDqbLziDyjYBkFz23ROWU-MUR63JoyF_mVcm4/s320/080512.horse.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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I found a tree of heaven growing through the same tire as before.<br />
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I also found some wild cherries (I think these are chokecherries) within
reach (I do love wild fruit. It feels like such a bonus to an already
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I found no brown snakes, but then on ride back out on Parkside to make my way down to the river, I found the unfortunate gal I started the post with. <br />
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Of course then I had to stop and check out the Centennial and Concourse Lakes in Fairmount Park, turning up a young bull frog (<i>Lithobates catesbeiana</i>) under a log.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghLZ9-VyUxQ2qCPxYTU23aPblwznGtX2E13NTD3JqJtDSzRPDDBfbs-xt0UgiSW9VfRUVRrs5sKrbGJUgMJmthxbrvSYyI7xUnmS8Hs9zhqV1mGn-PEAgIBB1O8MRXXsCtOr-0/s1600/080512.c.lake.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghLZ9-VyUxQ2qCPxYTU23aPblwznGtX2E13NTD3JqJtDSzRPDDBfbs-xt0UgiSW9VfRUVRrs5sKrbGJUgMJmthxbrvSYyI7xUnmS8Hs9zhqV1mGn-PEAgIBB1O8MRXXsCtOr-0/s320/080512.c.lake.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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On my actual ride I kept an eye open for turtles in the river. I include this crappy photo of crappy (invasive descendents of released pets) red-eared sliders (<i>Trachemys scripta</i>) only to make a point about how impressively wary turtles can be. I took the photo from the Falls Bridge, well above their basking perches. Hordes of other cyclists and pedestrians were passing along that bridge that morning, but somehow my stopping for a few seconds was enough to signal danger to them, and they all jumped in before I could zoom in. <br />
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<br />Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-47801486559800669112012-08-02T09:30:00.002-07:002012-08-04T18:21:41.189-07:00<i>[Note to readers - I am back from vacation. Enjoy the photos. Thanks for your patience.]</i><br />
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Sometimes I find exactly what I'm looking for and it makes me feel incredibly smart and highly skilled. Of course a more sober analysis would balance the account with all the times I don't find what I'm looking for and I blame it on bad luck or the ill will of the herping gods (rather than anything wrong with <i>me</i>), but I'll stick with feeling smart and skilled.<br />
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On Sunday I headed off on a cross-state work trip. One of the aspects of my job that I enjoy is that it takes me all over our beautiful state, particularly across the mountainous middle section that all Philadelphians should be embarrassed not to enjoy more often. To be perfectly clear, I do not go out of my way to go herping on the public's dime, but I frequently end up driving right through a state or national forest or state game land, or I end up finishing a work-related meeting at, say, 4pm, and realize I am an extremely short distance away from a neat trail head. Some traveling bureaucrats might drive a few miles to get to somewhere to eat; I tend to eat in my hotel room and drive the few miles for somewhere to hike and herp.<br />
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In this case I was picking up one of my staff who happened to be camping at a park in Northeast PA along the route to Erie (and points in between) where we were heading. I simply arrived a couple hours early and went for a hike myself in an adjacent State Game Land.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Xv92GRhDmwKkAG9jxLsZ7Gv1HjpAxq5piWuWI48ewfX1SHWLjywfwgggoL24ZYz4mOY9prF0oDBvv4_6p1m98YZvKVquAz84RsgA46YZeAd0AW6JvARaxdkKdriN9jCmUNCz/s1600/072912.road.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Xv92GRhDmwKkAG9jxLsZ7Gv1HjpAxq5piWuWI48ewfX1SHWLjywfwgggoL24ZYz4mOY9prF0oDBvv4_6p1m98YZvKVquAz84RsgA46YZeAd0AW6JvARaxdkKdriN9jCmUNCz/s320/072912.road.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Here's the road.</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM64SzqAUn85tB50Cqn5H5ixtX-dG5w3k67rAmQpdsE9OrZR-9EitXGxI97PvNnpLf3DkCmLy3jQzPGgguZ2SVxSJOo8fm6bf96kzuc1afUeZcLXJQa22fP_cQ5u2wqI6kBn4c/s1600/072912.creek2.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM64SzqAUn85tB50Cqn5H5ixtX-dG5w3k67rAmQpdsE9OrZR-9EitXGxI97PvNnpLf3DkCmLy3jQzPGgguZ2SVxSJOo8fm6bf96kzuc1afUeZcLXJQa22fP_cQ5u2wqI6kBn4c/s320/072912.creek2.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Here's the adjacent creek.</i></td></tr>
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I flipped rocks as I went, revealing some of the omnipresent redback salamanders (<i>Plethodon cinereus</i>) as well as some mountain dusky salamanders (<i>Desmognathus ochrophaeus</i>). This might be my least favorite herp genus, not because there's anything wrong with the animals, but because I (and lots of other people) find them confusing to identify. In contrast to the southern Appalachians, where you'll have multiple dusky species that look very similar to each other, up here the mountain duskies look a bit like two-lined salamanders (<i>Eurycea bislineata</i>). <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjvpKgmfFepfiRxjpftvNTDNgfsAL4vLwBdBuk6SMNPWjBkN0XZ_x-WY2YUWnKSJZLBv7VlqtFsXTX66Mzsu1vmsUrFNjHMp1oW1KxJCrd3KslSAZf5DY5osj-hQ1OB_mIpYl8/s1600/072912.d.ochrophaeus.2.2081.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjvpKgmfFepfiRxjpftvNTDNgfsAL4vLwBdBuk6SMNPWjBkN0XZ_x-WY2YUWnKSJZLBv7VlqtFsXTX66Mzsu1vmsUrFNjHMp1oW1KxJCrd3KslSAZf5DY5osj-hQ1OB_mIpYl8/s320/072912.d.ochrophaeus.2.2081.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFL07bWT-TTvZz12SSwZ1MEHsuxI-Fvfx_uH50jUXJHfcopPJmOJ0jRWcsFIPcTrSKvhnMhjflFs3Szll030lIB5pjuktjx4JeSporji9nxQx8F6dhdFqyX0FewW-hLP92TeVS/s1600/072912.d.ochrophaeus.1.2081.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFL07bWT-TTvZz12SSwZ1MEHsuxI-Fvfx_uH50jUXJHfcopPJmOJ0jRWcsFIPcTrSKvhnMhjflFs3Szll030lIB5pjuktjx4JeSporji9nxQx8F6dhdFqyX0FewW-hLP92TeVS/s320/072912.d.ochrophaeus.1.2081.JPG" width="254" /></a><br />
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Plenty of rain had fallen during the weekend, indeed I drove through some rain on the way up and found the ground wet and the clouds just parting as I set off down the narrow dirt road. This is good turtle weather, and if I'd been in the Pine Barrens I would have fully expected to find a box turtle (<i>Terrepane carolina</i>) luxuriating in a warm puddle or snapping up a slug. Up in the Northern Tier, however, I was looking for wood turtles (<i>Glyptemys insculpta</i> - my apologies to Scott, who has yet to accept the genus change from '<i>Clemmys</i>').<br />
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...and Bingo! I found old red legs himself just at the edge of the road.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgfoZM84np1McpiOphaihGk5XyidL2APPKvdgfclQo7KMOiOEq8lCAVqjTS_cUXgnxdp8TlOUPf7-AldmJFSpwzmNNGtFxEXi10MorMtfoK8SE72W9iBXP5TSfcQYmDqg_BLqX/s1600/072912.g.insculpta.1.2080.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgfoZM84np1McpiOphaihGk5XyidL2APPKvdgfclQo7KMOiOEq8lCAVqjTS_cUXgnxdp8TlOUPf7-AldmJFSpwzmNNGtFxEXi10MorMtfoK8SE72W9iBXP5TSfcQYmDqg_BLqX/s320/072912.g.insculpta.1.2080.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRuqi8eLhMxKi8Qkedij9Ep01b3U_VcZAMGvoCfBrIp_LqrowkhzD6CgpVMYhflWV9-Og2HmkBLyyFIsxIaSpTe4k6SKVHPV4VG3YJvNVN1mrWBQnsLSKy027PqNniJDR6Sumg/s1600/072912.g.insculpta.2.2080.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRuqi8eLhMxKi8Qkedij9Ep01b3U_VcZAMGvoCfBrIp_LqrowkhzD6CgpVMYhflWV9-Og2HmkBLyyFIsxIaSpTe4k6SKVHPV4VG3YJvNVN1mrWBQnsLSKy027PqNniJDR6Sumg/s320/072912.g.insculpta.2.2080.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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I need to take a moment to appreciate the apt species name, with 'insculpta' perfectly describing the top part of the shell (carapace).<br />
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As an aside, I should mention all the pretty butterflies. Mentioning all the pretty butterflies is the kind of thing that can lose a herper his herping cred, but I was pleased to be able to photograph the skittish little bugs as they dined on fresh manure, deposited by a couple horses I had passed a few minutes before.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRjGsLMY12vu_G65WERY9ahSkLsxtxXa27sKPxPiBQ-XXs80kuZOthIvw9X1CdADfr7JyPOmrcFOO1ixUja6lVgjDIP3A5i3-PIG12DEzfBj4gDjh4E7886mQEizZbdNeqVChT/s1600/072912.butterflies.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRjGsLMY12vu_G65WERY9ahSkLsxtxXa27sKPxPiBQ-XXs80kuZOthIvw9X1CdADfr7JyPOmrcFOO1ixUja6lVgjDIP3A5i3-PIG12DEzfBj4gDjh4E7886mQEizZbdNeqVChT/s320/072912.butterflies.JPG" width="293" /></a><br />
I hoofed it back to the car in time to pick up my staff member, who quickly learned that riding across the state with me includes abrupt U-turns to inspect road jerky and the occasional turtle-like rock.Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-29718199748788668102012-07-24T19:03:00.000-07:002012-07-24T19:03:00.404-07:00<br />
I like them black and velvety. Timber rattlers (<i>Crotalus horridus</i>) all start off beige with dark bands and end up in two basic patterns: either yellow with dark bands or almost all black, with light edging marking off where the bands used to be. Scott tends to go for the blondes, I go for the black ones, particularly when they're clean and lustrous, soaking up the light like pools of shadow in the forest.<br />
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Here's one we found in our path on our way up a mountain on Saturday.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6JR4ZlJJP5HXrOkNkC1kOk2mMVtkHUTsMr-mJwOZJxbtMnxuE-LrB4S-u0M6EZ8KgYctSay2NA83MG_Tr0-tysZGiXcJsyCX0fMMkoP91q_aYlM2FiPbmu6crUAzyCu4ZUjfC/s1600/072112.c.horridus.1.2079.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6JR4ZlJJP5HXrOkNkC1kOk2mMVtkHUTsMr-mJwOZJxbtMnxuE-LrB4S-u0M6EZ8KgYctSay2NA83MG_Tr0-tysZGiXcJsyCX0fMMkoP91q_aYlM2FiPbmu6crUAzyCu4ZUjfC/s320/072112.c.horridus.1.2079.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqveWG1cmP7yDMyBPhmfEy3c2BMu_1WbQvAaiF7dEKOdA7q9i7myNZh5ZJ5gQTRdyTVasqa7zXKSB-bAUnB9Ol_Vzuq9oXqLCSqc4M9JGT0KitaNyW4DUzhrl8d7M5wPXygUhD/s1600/072112.c.horridus.2.2079.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqveWG1cmP7yDMyBPhmfEy3c2BMu_1WbQvAaiF7dEKOdA7q9i7myNZh5ZJ5gQTRdyTVasqa7zXKSB-bAUnB9Ol_Vzuq9oXqLCSqc4M9JGT0KitaNyW4DUzhrl8d7M5wPXygUhD/s320/072112.c.horridus.2.2079.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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Here's another nearby. The fat back end indicates that this is one of the gravid (pregnant) females that hang out at this spot until they give birth. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2x-L6D5UxL2OtI-5PKQL81zhniKL6Xrkk85QiQiFkkT3rd6EEXHs045itCl_yMUrPhUfwAvRviHZksSnejS_Zrw1v-3xDl0d2w2bGOqyTke4tRz6tXFyZI5pb4miH1B7Mtf1K/s1600/072112.c.horridus.3.2079.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2x-L6D5UxL2OtI-5PKQL81zhniKL6Xrkk85QiQiFkkT3rd6EEXHs045itCl_yMUrPhUfwAvRviHZksSnejS_Zrw1v-3xDl0d2w2bGOqyTke4tRz6tXFyZI5pb4miH1B7Mtf1K/s320/072112.c.horridus.3.2079.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
Here's another, looking like a normal basking rattler...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1SmG2qhqvIB0Z-CMj6hRuKmIB_g8pe8krlv1D5w5w6sqHDQ4DT8X497ON2aAflTevuB7a3QqA9RVLebbpgYcvY25Y9xEpfpBSPO9QT1gH-PnhuKff9W8Pi_SEXzWO9Opim1M8/s1600/072112.c.horridus.4.2079.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1SmG2qhqvIB0Z-CMj6hRuKmIB_g8pe8krlv1D5w5w6sqHDQ4DT8X497ON2aAflTevuB7a3QqA9RVLebbpgYcvY25Y9xEpfpBSPO9QT1gH-PnhuKff9W8Pi_SEXzWO9Opim1M8/s320/072112.c.horridus.4.2079.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />...until we zoom in on its nose.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrvUYpWgxutW8fNnF4XQCs79Fjoki6JSIO9SSdyE7NjL7xyM4hmsIbQEsW6up1v2gzQ0UP_Ed35yTE3VjB60J328UZY7NibouKkgTk1KGwuMAsvUM6js7CocMI_UkumkG2Cr7z/s1600/072112.c.horridus.5.2079.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrvUYpWgxutW8fNnF4XQCs79Fjoki6JSIO9SSdyE7NjL7xyM4hmsIbQEsW6up1v2gzQ0UP_Ed35yTE3VjB60J328UZY7NibouKkgTk1KGwuMAsvUM6js7CocMI_UkumkG2Cr7z/s1600/072112.c.horridus.5.2079.jpg" /></a><br />
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We live in an age of extinctions. It's certainly true for our amphibians - take the recent wave of frog species falling to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Batrachochytrium_dendrobatidis" target="_blank">Bd infections</a>. Some think this could apply to the timber rattlesnakes too. For a couple years I've noticed that some of the rattlers I've seen have ugly lesions on their faces. Other herpers I've been out with commented on it too, and they noted that the lesions are concerning some professionals as well, the fear being that a something similar to the Bd could be coming for our rattlers.<br />
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Will Magnolia see these timber rattlers (<i>Crotalus horridus</i>) when
she's all grown up? Timbers can live for decades, so in theory it's
possible, but that's not what I'm getting at. I mean will these rattlers
or their descendents still be on that mountainside when she's old
enough to hike out on her own and look for them?<br />
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This is a kind of fear that drives a lot of my herping, that the species I'm seeing might not be there (maybe not extinct, but perhaps locally much harder to find) later on, and that I don't want to look back in another twenty years and wish I'd seen more box turtles (<i>Terrapene carolina</i>), or wood turtles (<i>Glyptemys insculpta</i>) before they were all gone... or timber rattlers. <br />
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<a href="http://www.bio.sdsu.edu/pub/clark/Site/Publications_files/NH_snake_decline.pdf" target="_blank">One article on local rattler extinctions in New Hampshire</a> noted a mysterious fungal infection playing a role. A herper on Field Herp Forum noted seeing some of her favorite rattlers waste away with similar lesions to the ones I've seen. It's enough to scare me. <br />
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Now, skin infections are pretty common in snakes, particularly in the spring. I frequently see snakes in the spring with ugly blisters all over them. These are commonly assumed to result from damp hibernacula, and they usually clear up. Researchers I have corresponded with commented that they've been seeing PA rattlers with this sort of lesion for decades, and that they're more or less the same kind of temporary infections. I do hope so. <br />
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Now, on a much lighter note, the berry report:<br />
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Blueberries were abundant, though a little watery tasting. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJOtLPSbKjJBLOfegeC4kxCbQRflKyCT8dFLOvtVWE2cWg66w6h6Fp0IFNRplqwknKshSbyFBSNEFf7DTqsiNUHXof3Pg4yoQyC2Xn2pWVeSwTmIzRWw-mruJ7vDz3t9Qv4T1X/s1600/072112.blueberries.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJOtLPSbKjJBLOfegeC4kxCbQRflKyCT8dFLOvtVWE2cWg66w6h6Fp0IFNRplqwknKshSbyFBSNEFf7DTqsiNUHXof3Pg4yoQyC2Xn2pWVeSwTmIzRWw-mruJ7vDz3t9Qv4T1X/s320/072112.blueberries.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
The blackberries were better, though not quite as abundant. I had trouble taking a photo of them, not because they wouldn't sit still, but because I kept eating them and thinking 'crap, I meant to take a photo of those berries I just ate.' <br />
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<br />Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-60206069965690264572012-07-17T19:10:00.000-07:002012-07-17T19:10:06.613-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I wish I had something more exciting to report. Partly this is from blogging pride, but mostly it's from the basic craving that all herpers have to get out in any good weather and find something slimy or scaly.<br />
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In the middle of the summer I look forward to either being in the water or being in the mountains. I can do the former if I don't have to tend the baby (she's sitting up and crawling, but I don't think she's ready to fight the current in the Delaware quite yet), and I can do the latter with the baby but only if I have the car. Lately on the weekends I've been taking care of the baby but without the car. <br />
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On Sunday, though, I worked it out with Jen, who had to work the morning, that I would drop her off at work and take the baby out flipping AC.<br />
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Non herpers might need some translation there: 'flipping' refers to the activity of looking underneath the objects being 'flipped' to see if any herps are hiding underneath. Though the term 'flipping' might imply a reckless process, in practice we carefully lift each object and then carefully replace it just like we found it. Sloppy flipping is enough to get you black listed in herping circles. 'AC' stands for 'artificial cover,' in other words trash.<br />
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Thus, I put the baby in a stroller and we walked in an area of Philadelphia where milksnakes (<i>Lampropeltis triangulum</i>) are known to occur and where dumped trash is abundant. Obviously I didn't find any, otherwise I'd have led off this post with an actual something exciting to report.<br />
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A little later on I decided that I needed to see some kind of reptile or amphibian, even if it was easy, distant, and reliable. So, Magnolia and cruised the towpath canal along the Schuylkill and looked at basking red bellied turtles (<i>Pseudemys rubriventris</i>). It ain't much, but it ain't nothing. They really are impressive turtles. I like how they often bask without dragging themselves completely out of the water. I respect a turtle that can flout social conventions like this. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN9tA-ncm8S_Sifa23CR9o8csCBVxC2jzI3EUzZGOf6yr4RjbQNiv5Ep2aWPIBTzTDd0KBazZLw_Qrum9aKGreTv-0kP8GBKqdwic94fD5dgtKl15sKDhspnbUaZ0iYe8uxPHv/s1600/071512.p.rubriventris.2078.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN9tA-ncm8S_Sifa23CR9o8csCBVxC2jzI3EUzZGOf6yr4RjbQNiv5Ep2aWPIBTzTDd0KBazZLw_Qrum9aKGreTv-0kP8GBKqdwic94fD5dgtKl15sKDhspnbUaZ0iYe8uxPHv/s320/071512.p.rubriventris.2078.JPG" width="320" /></a>Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-58973858542336376252012-07-04T13:30:00.000-07:002012-07-05T10:29:02.706-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It was like a reunion with the water. Since last October I'd been gazing at rivers from above the surface, longing to dive in, but the water was too cold (for me; the turtles can function quite well in spring weather - chilly water and warm sun). That's a long time for it to be too cold. And then up until the middle of June the water was warm enough but too high and muddy.<br />
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Finally, though, the weather dried <i>and </i>warmed up. The Delaware dropped and cleared, and I found a good Sunday for jumping in.<br />
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To be clear, 'jumping' isn't quite how I do it. The place I've found to access the river is off a sandbank (or island, depending on the water level), and I have to wade my way out to the rocks. I find it difficult to walk (waddle) in flippers, so my MO is to wade out in water shoes to a nice boulder at about thigh depth, drop my backpack, change footwear, and then begin.<br />
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It really is like entering another world. I have heard this from salt-water reef snorkelers and divers, and in my experience the same holds for fresh water. What impresses me is the sensual totality of the experience. At first, it almost always feels cold. Even if the water is in the mild 70s, the air is usually warmer so the contrast makes me shiver a bit as the water rises up my legs and, ultimately and conclusively, over my face. I love the pressure of the water as an enveloping embrace, the heavy tension as it cuts off the world above. The light turns pale green as my mask goes under, and my hearing fades to liquid murmurs. <br />
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I could just drift at first and let the current pick me up to its speed, but I like to give a little kick with the flippers to feel that acceleration boosted by the river.<br />
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Here's one view of the target:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7D77D7rTRQaERm-UOG42jzI4G3wJWiYKdPD-_xBMrCIuF3qrtn5H4PqdF7x_ELEvHyoN4RvmdVLUT4Y1kCkwwLDj1qLZ12JGOn9rSe6udzi2gDqTcs3wf9U4W3j5qyyd0R6xt/s1600/062412.g.geographica.2.2075.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2hFynrOpM27-O7oidEzL-KU3o7LdiTEgbu1SpMqoUKxRoaz4npd0xttASn5cnnP8fSF6QNmZzm9o9td7fG6vipgRyUkEVutYL7ZlofcNhATWQU55joI316A4RGO4LcWuRBklI/s1600/062412.g.geographica.8.2075.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2hFynrOpM27-O7oidEzL-KU3o7LdiTEgbu1SpMqoUKxRoaz4npd0xttASn5cnnP8fSF6QNmZzm9o9td7fG6vipgRyUkEVutYL7ZlofcNhATWQU55joI316A4RGO4LcWuRBklI/s320/062412.g.geographica.8.2075.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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Each boulder sported at least a couple map turtles (<i>Graptemys geographica</i>) soaking up the sun. In the past I would have held no hope of grabbing a turtle from its rock. Most aquatic turtles are exceptionally wary, and map turtles are relatively wary aquatic turtles. They drop in if they see you looking at them funny from a hundred yards away. Thus my strategy had previously been to let them dive and then search for them hiding on the bottom.<br />
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Then, last year, I figured out an underwater ambush approach. The key is the flippers. Turtles don't seem to spook much at the sight of the top of a snorkel and mask drifting towards them, so I can very gently propel myself along with the flippers (keeping them under water) to twenty or so yards away, then submerge, cover the rest of the distance holding my breath, and then pop up right next to them on the boulder. Grabbing them is a bit of a challenge even at that point, but I have discovered that an average-sized adult man with flippers can swim faster than a map turtle, so it's easy to run (swim?) them down even if they jump in.<br />
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Here are some of the results:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPOwJI6xKtO26OdSCilwithMIagyLVa2iUEmKrVLtX0m9vTXY9Ph6yDzTKNeXRwXdHNxGuB6tiZGIq_jtgfwYjlG4R1m6NBiuOANVaIjAitzc8z1ROg6q9XqB_nXsWIO7Tz5lo/s1600/062412.g.geographica.3.2075.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPOwJI6xKtO26OdSCilwithMIagyLVa2iUEmKrVLtX0m9vTXY9Ph6yDzTKNeXRwXdHNxGuB6tiZGIq_jtgfwYjlG4R1m6NBiuOANVaIjAitzc8z1ROg6q9XqB_nXsWIO7Tz5lo/s320/062412.g.geographica.3.2075.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQp9TiOKYlVbPYUlHjLimpofNkLC_dg9d_-csm4DoWdRRD9-9sYKJdlVid517DndAKXymIUyifnk_RSkTrq_bEM8JP9eQjaJPx6LEG4bTbR5KN-ibMN6v8zXPdeWeWMBeDav_7/s1600/062412.g.geographica.1.2075.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQp9TiOKYlVbPYUlHjLimpofNkLC_dg9d_-csm4DoWdRRD9-9sYKJdlVid517DndAKXymIUyifnk_RSkTrq_bEM8JP9eQjaJPx6LEG4bTbR5KN-ibMN6v8zXPdeWeWMBeDav_7/s320/062412.g.geographica.1.2075.JPG" width="290" /></a><br />
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These are females. Usually I think of the males as easier to catch, but for some reason (or random luck) I was unable to catch any males on this trip. <br />
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The females are much, much larger than their mates and live somewhat separate lives. They like deeper water, they tend to like basking spots further off shore, and they eat harder-shelled foods (think clams and mussels rather than bugs) with those beefy heads. <br />
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I did find one big girl sitting on the bottom. This is always a thrill, when the river bottom I'm used to (rock, rock, rock, bigger rock, rock, log, rock, rock, rock... to the point of hypnosis) is broken by the tapered, leaf-like outline of a map turtle. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJtso5GLeQXuZUR_y2JsQE-CIds7yMO2ieZQ6hA8Xi3zAPZyEeqq4DGK1Dwbcxi_I_h9m1y_h0RBDV-oHRc-rguiMxybX1b05bUrT7NZYzYTOTUGcixuTHSF0IqqB-koRdtYit/s1600/062412.g.geographica.7.2075.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJtso5GLeQXuZUR_y2JsQE-CIds7yMO2ieZQ6hA8Xi3zAPZyEeqq4DGK1Dwbcxi_I_h9m1y_h0RBDV-oHRc-rguiMxybX1b05bUrT7NZYzYTOTUGcixuTHSF0IqqB-koRdtYit/s320/062412.g.geographica.7.2075.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Sometimes I do think they look better underwater.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEMyHPCfBOzf8fCqs5hdgHTuI255LiBFCsxlk_s0BUVcG-h2tFPV0wfvGsO80iRwg2EX8BJ8RwA5lZnC8TOHnrggdbHpZzK-Jl5X_4HtprUE93soqlu_Trt5r833STwEveVKt5/s1600/062412.g.geographica.5.2075.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEMyHPCfBOzf8fCqs5hdgHTuI255LiBFCsxlk_s0BUVcG-h2tFPV0wfvGsO80iRwg2EX8BJ8RwA5lZnC8TOHnrggdbHpZzK-Jl5X_4HtprUE93soqlu_Trt5r833STwEveVKt5/s320/062412.g.geographica.5.2075.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hasta luego!</td></tr>
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Turtles aren't the only neat critters in the river. I saw an impressive channel catfish in the crease under one boulder before I could get my camera out, but this yellow lamp mussel held still for me. <br />
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A couple times I pulled myself out of the water to rest on my boulder. It was so warm and cozy; I hadn't realized the water was chilling me a little until I felt the sun again. It occurred to me that I was becoming more like a turtle the more time I spent in the river. </div>
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I accessed the river via a path along a canal. On the way back I saw plenty of turtles in that water as well (I had seen some stink pots - <i>Sternotherus oderatus</i> - on the way in too), including this map turtle...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZeWpMPRiKNNh2PuKm0-0Y4-PRzAwdoKiCEji2PdW4l-DWSgvMVk3q-zU6262MRUxNhPrjrjtvgFaBBAMUN1Yc78BBP26G83e62aNfKUniChrnEveDmK5waKLJc7KOcbURglvN/s1600/062412.g.geographica.2074.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZeWpMPRiKNNh2PuKm0-0Y4-PRzAwdoKiCEji2PdW4l-DWSgvMVk3q-zU6262MRUxNhPrjrjtvgFaBBAMUN1Yc78BBP26G83e62aNfKUniChrnEveDmK5waKLJc7KOcbURglvN/s320/062412.g.geographica.2074.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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And the more impressive redbellies (<i>Pseudemys subrubrum</i>), who tend to like slower, murkier water than the maps. <br />
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A few turtles had lost their nests to predators, as evidenced by these shriveled shells next to a dug-up hole.<br />
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I'll close with a bone to toss to the people who like the warm-blooded, furry-type wildlife. I know deer on either side of the river above Trenton are about as remarkable as squirrels, but the doe and fawn looked cute together. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgde_IYuB3dBDrx5Dg-QIbi5Xgfio7b2ZOezmFiTxaGSHHsGaX-DwEK-3ybqjgla2KuJaF9p2yfWIGx5vUCE3W-yKCqaZag0P_YAQQJfu9R11sU2DJi3pRTIRamXSFswTTyAt1/s1600/062412.deer.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgde_IYuB3dBDrx5Dg-QIbi5Xgfio7b2ZOezmFiTxaGSHHsGaX-DwEK-3ybqjgla2KuJaF9p2yfWIGx5vUCE3W-yKCqaZag0P_YAQQJfu9R11sU2DJi3pRTIRamXSFswTTyAt1/s320/062412.deer.JPG" width="320" /></a>Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-42901553086781462122012-06-28T19:22:00.000-07:002012-06-28T19:22:00.408-07:00This week I got an envelope of shed snake skins in the mail. An Urban Sustainability Forum (a program of the <a href="http://www.ansp.org/get-involved/cep/" target="_blank">Academy of Natural Sciences Center for Environmental Policy</a>) contact had been telling me about the snakes that live in her garden in Northwest Philly, and she sent me some of the shed skins to identify.<br />
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These are from brown snakes (<i>Storeria dekayi</i>) - the usual suspects throughout most of the City - but I liked how they arrived folded in wax paper. I'm half tempted to add some colorful dried maple leaves and iron the whole thing, which gets me thinking about why snake skins aren't used more often for arts and crafts projects.Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-90101006592622466032012-06-25T19:15:00.000-07:002012-06-27T17:54:13.937-07:00This Sunday, as I walked from a turtling spot to my car, my six-year-old nephew Ezra got on the phone and told me about a snake he had seen on a nature walk in Connecticut. With deliberate precision he recounted that it had a dark stripe on each side, and a tan stripe down the back. It's tongue was bright red. It didn't even hiss; it just raised its head, looked at him, and slithered away. Then he explained that he was Harry Potter, at which point his three-year-old brother Simon hopped on the phone and explained that he was Ron and that my sister was Hermione, and soon the brothers were engaged in a fierce wizard duel while I tried to talk to my sister. <br />
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I told her it was a garter snake (<i>Thamnophis sirtalis</i>), much like one I had found the previous weekend.<br />
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I found this snake in the Yeadon side of Mount Moriah Cemetery, a place that, if I go more than a month without visiting, the vegetation grows with such vigor that I don't recognize the place anymore, and I find myself a little intimidated by the vehemence with which nature reclaims a space once we turn our backs on it. <br />
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One of the disconcerting aspects of the overgrowth is that the various sections of the cemetery can be overtaken by distinct types of vegetation, as if the plants have staked out exclusive territories bounded by the paths, themselves claimed alternately by grass, red clover, and vetch. Some sections hide beneath a carpet of day lillies. Some are buried under a ten-foot mass of Japanese knotweed, and this one is getting overtaken by a thicket of sassafras. <br />
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This is our future, folks. Someday, maybe hundreds or thousands of years in the future when we're either extinct or all living in giant plexiglass bubbles beneath the surface of the ocean, Philadelphia will look like the Mount Moriah Cemetery.Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-62547468960783657642012-06-21T11:38:00.000-07:002012-06-21T11:38:00.472-07:00<br />
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I found a ratsnake, so everything is going to be okay. That's a basic truth of my life, by the way. It's impossible for me to find a black ratsnake (<i>Pantherophis obsoleta</i>) and then believe that everything <i>isn't</i> going to be okay. I might not believe in God, but I believe in black ratsnakes. Indeed in my more mystical moments I could be convinced that black ratsnakes are linked together into a super consciousness that, when I find one, taps me into something sublime and much deeper than a snake. I can't look one in it's big, bugged out eyes as it calmly inspects <i>my </i>face and think nothing is going on in there. Since individual snakes are unarguably stupid, I'm left with the ratsnake-as-more-than-snake hypothesis. Right? Douglas Adams had his lab mice; I've got my black ratsnakes. (so now you know how I chose my avatar)<br />
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Thus I was thrilled to introduce my six-month-old daughter to her first black ratsnake, or rather to present her to my ratsnake deity.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ratsnake couldn't take me seriously enough to go into a proper defensive posture</td></tr>
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I like to think I have a way with ratsnakes (even in a very mundane sense), and though this one nipped me when I gently pulled it out of the bushes by the side of the path, it quickly reverted to the calm 'explore-the-human' mode that so charms me.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUU1H_aG4F9U3mJkBmF10RRw0qYknAGz6c-5fEFeSzCY82qUD-54Lbjht1tKg4SVpSLsiWtbIe69jf8Yyi6gRxqDl72gfIHsZNpDNCIv64U0udJeJF4PIxzW5MGzri_WJuF7Wb/s1600/061012.p.obsoleta.1.2069.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUU1H_aG4F9U3mJkBmF10RRw0qYknAGz6c-5fEFeSzCY82qUD-54Lbjht1tKg4SVpSLsiWtbIe69jf8Yyi6gRxqDl72gfIHsZNpDNCIv64U0udJeJF4PIxzW5MGzri_WJuF7Wb/s320/061012.p.obsoleta.1.2069.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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Thus I would have been surprised if it had bitten her, but the thought of how Magnolia's mother would react if I brought her home with a couple lines of ratsnake-tooth pinpricks (ultimately less damage than she does to herself when we forget to clip her fingernails, but still...) kept me from letting the ratsnake get within touching range. Still he got a good look at her and she got a good look at him, so I feel confident that the proper forces of the cosmos are aware of Magnolia. Then she got annoyed that the daddy-ride through the woods had stopped moving, and she promised to escalate the complaint if I didn't start walking again.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">American toad (<i>Bufo americanus</i>) that we couldn't stop to catch</td></tr>
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This, it turns out, is one of the two major challenges of mountain herping with a six-month-old (the other being the basic rock-hopping balance complications): that she has no patience for still, quiet contemplation. I might have my reasons for spending time in the woods, but hers are the rhythmic lurching of the daddy-ride and the rich scenery moving past her perch on my chest. When the daddy-ride finds a really neat basking copperhead (<i>Agkistrodon contortrix</i>) and wants to stare in admiration at its autumnally beautiful hourglass pattern, the passenger starts squirming and shouting loud enough to wake the copperhead, however deaf it might supposedly be to airborne sound.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thar be copperheads!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See it?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1q0XLdvGcy9E6ZsEiHSWODvLoXYlWQjxEfUPg9DK7mbJnBMMSR1hf4ZJFSPl-EmO6FNIDoo2smM0upCs9m5zTBTGw6tBvQ9GhD6AHceCO1u2MT83K4lQ2fVxYQOF8jDwA_NWU/s1600/061012.a.contortrix.1.2071.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1q0XLdvGcy9E6ZsEiHSWODvLoXYlWQjxEfUPg9DK7mbJnBMMSR1hf4ZJFSPl-EmO6FNIDoo2smM0upCs9m5zTBTGw6tBvQ9GhD6AHceCO1u2MT83K4lQ2fVxYQOF8jDwA_NWU/s320/061012.a.contortrix.1.2071.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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The other (three major challenges! I feel like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Spanish_Inquisition_%28Monty_Python%29" target="_blank">Cardinal Ximenez</a>) is simply getting out of the house on time, so that you don't show up late on an inconveniently sunny day and find all the basking spots devoid of timber rattlers (<i>Crotalus horridus</i>). <br />
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But we found a black ratsnake, so everything is going to be okay.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJPV-9mhliz2mNO3o1PRWi328uz3GLafXHZaej8AmbYwCWIkjep_2zlldzkJnaS7m9H3D7zB4uVNOjfavDza6_1ySCm1jeTl9HGwLrxdDJYoQtuuVu1FiOHCzARhHtCMxxZ22R/s1600/061012.magnolia.thumb.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJPV-9mhliz2mNO3o1PRWi328uz3GLafXHZaej8AmbYwCWIkjep_2zlldzkJnaS7m9H3D7zB4uVNOjfavDza6_1ySCm1jeTl9HGwLrxdDJYoQtuuVu1FiOHCzARhHtCMxxZ22R/s320/061012.magnolia.thumb.JPG" width="307" /></a> <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDUVi-AEgp5Fc6_dqp3UO7ZkajdfWObIhlSxcJu-fi0o3NYR-3gTyYQXiuEpJZJvm-q8jOfu0x-kdzVSmz1pMK_D3IlETidmKKGBqCk_Re6JnEAwyZOgaT-9jVgcGp4vIOfH6J/s1600/061012.laurel.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyUSAu7A6fjiD3A2Kmxk97FHfKH_xYL_pLm1U4C9rsJeT3lq3ZncslimgWfEdboxw88DDbBT_gkbnJE5E_rh0Tmi9ibmaAiuADK1VbeXtwVzXgG_ppadTtGa-UMB2-Cn1TpEV1/s1600/061012.blueberry.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a>Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-82672196688918372472012-06-16T20:44:00.000-07:002012-06-16T20:44:00.636-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjQDdPNOeIsl2lmypBilGMl2ZEo5O8DBPvh6G6q8P1d6kMshvteVFuNCU6bHPlM1WT34EjMIAHrTjnEkVScv-JMpkqPhoz9E2VxFiJhEtdnsykqTuJ2uc4LfrEUl9n3FqA7ux-/s1600/060612.m.terrapin.2.2067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
Sometimes as I write these posts, I wonder why I describe observations of the same critters in the same habitats year after year. To me it all seems new - any time I find, say, a spotted turtle (<i>Clemmys guttata</i>) it's a special and memorable experience - and the experiences deepen as I layer on the observations over the years, both as I can better distinguish what is different from what is normal (see something once, it's hard to tell) and as I develop a gut feeling for the annual cycles we play in - but reading the blog it can look like I recycle the same posts year after year.<br />
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What definitely changes is the social. Most obviously, I now herp with a baby. At six months she seems to devote most of her free mind to sensation, to intently watching scenery and people, to following new sounds, to touching and placing into her mouth new objects as her brain wires itself for a sense of the world we adults take for granted. I feel it is critical that the scenery and sounds are as outdoors as they are indoors, that her brain be imprinted with the waving green of marsh grasses and the sounds of birds in the wind, and, of course, that she run her hands over the shells of turtles so that the texture is as normal to her as the fuzzy baby toys she spends more time with. <br />
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I'm not the only one - of course I hang out with like-minded people, and last week we drove out to a marsh in New Jersey to find nesting diamond-backed terrapins (<i>Malaclemys terrapin</i>) and hand them over to our children. <br />
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This is easy herping, essentially road cruising. Ordinarily I look down on road cruising, but in this case it is the simplest way to find the nesting turtles as they cross the road or stop to dig nests alongside or in the road.<br />
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Jen, Magnolia, and I showed up before our herping buddies and drove around a bit. We saw a few freshly-dug test holes - female terrapins tend to dig several holes and abandon them before they lay their eggs in one, so we felt confident we were in the right place at roughly the right time. We saw a few nests that had been ruined by predators, with shriveled shells littering the ground next to the holes, but no terrapins.<br />
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What we did see were mud turtles (<i>Kinosternon subrubrum</i>).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjValDHpWsI7E0w1JLVfW8teBmfDAoio7E4_Uh4Hx7zi1bfx-W30MSiMlWdJw3hJ3IIzR_hovdFLYjfQqw-3zdB8bDmKrUIFXf7wi7ukZ4l_sougU1XOAcOUZVcF15MjtSDR9C-/s1600/060612.k.subrubrum.1.2066.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjValDHpWsI7E0w1JLVfW8teBmfDAoio7E4_Uh4Hx7zi1bfx-W30MSiMlWdJw3hJ3IIzR_hovdFLYjfQqw-3zdB8bDmKrUIFXf7wi7ukZ4l_sougU1XOAcOUZVcF15MjtSDR9C-/s320/060612.k.subrubrum.1.2066.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir9qBn7aldHeQZXhSVaP3IqtNh_sURx14oJ4yGgYzwj6NUhP2U2JYtVtY1Umjfe4JqdRQ4tXcPv_FZpAn_UshjgVoOGXuZzLv9g_ttEtQAwSMCMUqgNR0M3hJiDLZ1o3Nh14C2/s1600/060612.k.subrubrum.2.2066.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir9qBn7aldHeQZXhSVaP3IqtNh_sURx14oJ4yGgYzwj6NUhP2U2JYtVtY1Umjfe4JqdRQ4tXcPv_FZpAn_UshjgVoOGXuZzLv9g_ttEtQAwSMCMUqgNR0M3hJiDLZ1o3Nh14C2/s320/060612.k.subrubrum.2.2066.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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These aren't nearly as well regarded as the larger, more objectively beautiful terrapins, but I find the little guys charismatic in a similar way as stinkpots (<i>Sternotherus oderatus</i>). I would have figured on females crossing for the same reason as the terrapins, but a couple of them were males.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ_W8K6p-F9D8fxtLChSY1xVauOBCwT6HpvpmxtjPmCgPMxI5v-9njGZXQWQoUOJ2Tfl7_8k_J4MvRiQ62TYk84PihQnMD6wsGSKwYboPvLtf8ziZOiwrAGvrNuwG_YyuMMTMj/s1600/060612.k.subrubrum.3.2066.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ_W8K6p-F9D8fxtLChSY1xVauOBCwT6HpvpmxtjPmCgPMxI5v-9njGZXQWQoUOJ2Tfl7_8k_J4MvRiQ62TYk84PihQnMD6wsGSKwYboPvLtf8ziZOiwrAGvrNuwG_YyuMMTMj/s320/060612.k.subrubrum.3.2066.JPG" width="320" /></a> <br />
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Finally we saw a girl digging a hole. I didn't get too close, not wanting to spook her, but I could see something was funny about her right front leg.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXg4m4IGLai51sXlEDuaOBA7rGLFqUE3DZU0inyPecP8WCOy_QBAoZcWLZuWrxSAJ5743KeebE7kongoh3Bn5Hk96S7DItp31c5lCwUBiyw9xmIoE55hkrE5fq9PVtHZvHrZh8/s1600/060612.m.terrapin.1.2067.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXg4m4IGLai51sXlEDuaOBA7rGLFqUE3DZU0inyPecP8WCOy_QBAoZcWLZuWrxSAJ5743KeebE7kongoh3Bn5Hk96S7DItp31c5lCwUBiyw9xmIoE55hkrE5fq9PVtHZvHrZh8/s320/060612.m.terrapin.1.2067.JPG" width="320" /></a> <br />
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We met up with Scott and his son Miles, as well as Ali (a plant person, but we let her tag along) and her very new baby, and we all piled into our car.<br />
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A little while later we found the same female, distinguishable by that stump leg (I am horrified to imagine how that must have looked when it was first injured) crossing the road, and we tortured her for a few minutes by letting the kids touch her before letting her continue searching for that perfect patch of ground to lay her eggs. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjQDdPNOeIsl2lmypBilGMl2ZEo5O8DBPvh6G6q8P1d6kMshvteVFuNCU6bHPlM1WT34EjMIAHrTjnEkVScv-JMpkqPhoz9E2VxFiJhEtdnsykqTuJ2uc4LfrEUl9n3FqA7ux-/s1600/060612.m.terrapin.2.2067.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjQDdPNOeIsl2lmypBilGMl2ZEo5O8DBPvh6G6q8P1d6kMshvteVFuNCU6bHPlM1WT34EjMIAHrTjnEkVScv-JMpkqPhoz9E2VxFiJhEtdnsykqTuJ2uc4LfrEUl9n3FqA7ux-/s320/060612.m.terrapin.2.2067.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
She was the only terrapin we saw up on land (we did spot plenty of heads in the water), but one of the target species still counts as finding the target species, so we were pretty happy with her.<br />
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As we were with this delightful (to be fair, he was terrified) little mud turtle that we detained for a few minutes for a photo shoot. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4VtqjpVEj9Gj6TAwZ41zEG9I7fu9fZpoq4wFo0te35KhjXfs1F-8ZR-a2kpAoVbDKLVkflHAnkBOJA-5Vuhe_xsqO_Doip6fKrm27kmUs8kgcVWCaaj97cjP25MISqOlAK3-2/s1600/060612.k.subrubrum.4.2066.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4VtqjpVEj9Gj6TAwZ41zEG9I7fu9fZpoq4wFo0te35KhjXfs1F-8ZR-a2kpAoVbDKLVkflHAnkBOJA-5Vuhe_xsqO_Doip6fKrm27kmUs8kgcVWCaaj97cjP25MISqOlAK3-2/s320/060612.k.subrubrum.4.2066.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-53209642794349421832012-06-10T19:32:00.000-07:002012-06-11T03:29:39.646-07:00 A week and a half ago I finally got out on my own to the mountains. To be clear, I have been delighted to take Magnolia out with me in search of reptiles and amphibians, but on this trip I reminded myself of how fast I can move on my own, how much more ground I can cover on my way across a mountain, how more nimbly I can hop boulder to boulder (one of my favorite activities). <br />
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On the way through the woods to the open areas with the rattlesnakes (<i>Crotalus horridus</i>) I found some beautiful, though not-at-all nimble, efts moving in their slow motion across rocks and logs. I guess I didn't check to see whether there was any water actually on the lens of my camera before I took the shot, so please excuse the blur. Efts are a terrestrial life stage of the red-spotted newts (<i>Notophthalmus viridiscens</i>) we so often see in slow, shallow water. The newts hatch out into aquatic larvae, spend a few years as terrestrial efts, and then return to the water as adults. Aside from their garish beauty, their slow, methodical pace makes them fun to observe (and catch). Their bright colors signal toxic skin secretions; they don't need to move fast, since not much would want to eat them.<br />
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I made it to the rattlesnake site ahead of time, it turned out. I had worried about the sun heating the rocks up too quickly, but I found no snakes sitting out to greet me when I arrived. I took fifteen minutes to sit, rest, and wring out my socks and insoles, which had soaked up quite a lot of dew on my hike through the woods. Still no rattlers.<br />
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I got up and explored elsewhere on the slope, but made it back in about twenty minutes.<br />
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Finally! Here was a snake sitting out in the sun just as I had expected.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKb19w7G5uw6292aeyCUlZ9HqJQ8JVbBCGVJHKMGDAaacE2SUqF60BDhcWaZJnR3qOXaRIl7U76_tvyI1zXDhRIl69UEpEdElaCyXn9IYyZwR75JLEWsxL0Mrkg27QnsKG2wrX/s1600/052812.c.horridus.1.2063.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKb19w7G5uw6292aeyCUlZ9HqJQ8JVbBCGVJHKMGDAaacE2SUqF60BDhcWaZJnR3qOXaRIl7U76_tvyI1zXDhRIl69UEpEdElaCyXn9IYyZwR75JLEWsxL0Mrkg27QnsKG2wrX/s320/052812.c.horridus.1.2063.JPG" width="320" /></a> <br />
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She wasn't alone for long. I spotted this one crawling over the top of a neighboring rock.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2TFSALJ1qeS389BAbX0C6JpYR__wb__9KLMpJe3-bwDNlYyWaFYZJf4BqkQLY6SnmY_YgBbX2DpXbHeXWpbQ17j-cxZq_gi-hKOaTVOmnKMF35v78gthkiwEqf0ntX38Vzixg/s1600/052812.c.horridus.2.2063.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2TFSALJ1qeS389BAbX0C6JpYR__wb__9KLMpJe3-bwDNlYyWaFYZJf4BqkQLY6SnmY_YgBbX2DpXbHeXWpbQ17j-cxZq_gi-hKOaTVOmnKMF35v78gthkiwEqf0ntX38Vzixg/s320/052812.c.horridus.2.2063.JPG" width="320" /></a> <br />
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And a few minutes later this one poked her head out and curled up alongside.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpx4wiFdeVUNeC_U9j6ZdaDzj-Dm3rmy2FviYDby3AX2gM1kJnXcm2Rguub7OlxXVc1nNSGlQPPVEmdu5hyphenhyphenLy686_FFS0gNbv7uyxgRnIbMC-masy5RamvUFgMQXapFpJsgWQU/s1600/052812.c.horridus.3.2063.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpx4wiFdeVUNeC_U9j6ZdaDzj-Dm3rmy2FviYDby3AX2gM1kJnXcm2Rguub7OlxXVc1nNSGlQPPVEmdu5hyphenhyphenLy686_FFS0gNbv7uyxgRnIbMC-masy5RamvUFgMQXapFpJsgWQU/s320/052812.c.horridus.3.2063.JPG" width="320" /></a> <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigIqMIEfjd9Ub6HJJiNvzUYg3kknb1FJ_-CWVs-YgrIQ4o0toY7UAq-j6xgKZh7WXzs63Mh9gqFfujiRymFUyV8lcm44qXARpEsT9x7-h9kSxwCJZ3Ed4919eVsfEuskpuf7kv/s1600/052812.c.horridus.4.2063.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigIqMIEfjd9Ub6HJJiNvzUYg3kknb1FJ_-CWVs-YgrIQ4o0toY7UAq-j6xgKZh7WXzs63Mh9gqFfujiRymFUyV8lcm44qXARpEsT9x7-h9kSxwCJZ3Ed4919eVsfEuskpuf7kv/s320/052812.c.horridus.4.2063.JPG" width="316" /></a> <br />
These are likely pregnant females, which spend the summer basking in open areas while their males and not-pregnant sisters spend their time hunting.<br />
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I checked out a nearby spot, where I found a couple rattlers; one was sitting pretty and soaking up the sun. The other, apparently warmed up already, was nosing around the edge of the boulder, apparently looking to coil up half-shaded in the bushes. This one in particular was a stunning snake, the velvety black edged with cream and russet. Some herpers may prefer the blondes, but I can't get enough of the black rattlers.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTzOoyPI3NvM4PtKhED-JIMf5XQWJCSBEDdya9ePxpEa9crejLu2PVw-22Kz_DeCo5koJv7YB0UTbYTwHQ7TW6YGL2bHNbPKLiCAxxVT8UvM-px_AzXzwfTOAxIMBKGLERfU5H/s1600/052812.c.horridus.2.2064.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTzOoyPI3NvM4PtKhED-JIMf5XQWJCSBEDdya9ePxpEa9crejLu2PVw-22Kz_DeCo5koJv7YB0UTbYTwHQ7TW6YGL2bHNbPKLiCAxxVT8UvM-px_AzXzwfTOAxIMBKGLERfU5H/s320/052812.c.horridus.2.2064.JPG" width="320" /></a> <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3rFgiERX_SNrp8s05gW_DUJga1N_SNKF_D0o1DuOF0GkaWLq4CvMOXF1ESbWGDABD2ldYPUEt4EW7BcXqTjuKxM-wGGm65lFArxo5v5UHYowXPIBeKFnpumOQvCMwNn63ZwiE/s1600/052812.c.horridus.1.2064.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3rFgiERX_SNrp8s05gW_DUJga1N_SNKF_D0o1DuOF0GkaWLq4CvMOXF1ESbWGDABD2ldYPUEt4EW7BcXqTjuKxM-wGGm65lFArxo5v5UHYowXPIBeKFnpumOQvCMwNn63ZwiE/s320/052812.c.horridus.1.2064.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
More of the mountain awaited, so I hiked around to explore for a couple hours. On my way by the first basking site, I found this sight:<br />
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This is why you generally don't find timbers in really sunny weather unless you already know where you're looking. They might leave a coil or two out in the sun, but the keep the rest of themselves tucked back in the shade. <br />
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<br />Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-66628300167720191252012-06-07T05:29:00.001-07:002012-06-10T14:20:23.126-07:00<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQLQpItluQIFArUMjL_L_MwmFAmEyb8UbyLFcz8ieoUq9jwTJwvoF39ZPJEi_QxdB39mHUipf4iUZKas9TIB1BTtlPlyq_vjs1-mFXBXUPJwMgdraKNaUwSlz1ZeL3qUsnslZP/s1600/052312.billy.broom.sm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQLQpItluQIFArUMjL_L_MwmFAmEyb8UbyLFcz8ieoUq9jwTJwvoF39ZPJEi_QxdB39mHUipf4iUZKas9TIB1BTtlPlyq_vjs1-mFXBXUPJwMgdraKNaUwSlz1ZeL3qUsnslZP/s320/052312.billy.broom.sm.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>(photo by Jeff Thomsen)</i></td></tr>
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This isn't about herps, but I'll use it as a platform to mock birders (affectionately, of course, some of my best friends...). I was at City Hall covering a peregrine falcon nestling banding event for my <a href="http://www.gridphilly.com/" target="_blank">Grid </a>Urban Naturalist column, and the broom guy was late. Adult peregrines understandably defend their nest from big humans abducting their babies, and the broom guy's job is protect the biologist using what else but a perfectly ordinary broom (note that the goal is to block, not swing). I was there with City Hall employees and several birders, but in the dragging moments that I waited after they asked, "do we have any volunteers for the broom?" none of these people, who were supposedly so psyched to be that close to one of the coolest birds in the sky (combine endangered status with fierce beauty and the fastest flying on the planet - topping 200 mph in an attack dive). This so perfectly fits the herper's sterotype of birders: content to observe quietly from behind binoculars, but unwilling to sweat much, get their hands dirty, or generally physically interact with their quarry. So, <a href="http://abclocal.go.com/wpvi/video?id=8674081" target="_blank">I, the only herper in the room, ended up as the broom guy</a>, and I had what was and is likely to forever be the most exciting bird experience of my life.Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-38504608670561567512012-06-04T18:47:00.000-07:002012-06-04T18:47:00.410-07:00I think I've mentioned before that I enjoy making my own liqueurs. That might sound a little more fancy than it is; basically you soak the flavoring agent of your choice (cranberries, chocolate, lavender...) in the hard liquor of your choice and add as much sugar as you'd like, maybe some water too. Last year I tried out some of the cherries from ornamental cherry trees in a base of gin and a little cinnamon. The fruit aren't exactly yummy on their own - generally strong cherry taste with a fiercely bitter/tannic aftertaste - but make a great sweet/bitter drink (and would probably make great jam too) in the spirit of sloe berries that make sloe gin. This year I'm trying out a more neutral base...<br />
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But I digress. Magnolia and I wandered West Philly picking a couple quarts of really small cherries (takes a long time), and in the process we saw some critters.<br />
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We strolled (get it? she was in the stroller!) by the ponds along Belmont Avenue in Fairmount Park, where we saw a jillion bull frogs (<i>Lithobates catesbeiana</i>) and a mystery turtle that I assume is a red-eared slider (<i>Trachemys scripta</i>).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9hB4oH7ByjbiMHiV_PVMYU4D-yfpJ7NTEZqCu6F8mW5kNOexbi42SJ1jSzAjAoVNEgDjYO0Z4lnyG5es8rYZ1genIHXf6aXyIwBXIkcJk3BMlTnHDPpUY6xisx3gk-ONzdZuk/s1600/052712.pond.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9hB4oH7ByjbiMHiV_PVMYU4D-yfpJ7NTEZqCu6F8mW5kNOexbi42SJ1jSzAjAoVNEgDjYO0Z4lnyG5es8rYZ1genIHXf6aXyIwBXIkcJk3BMlTnHDPpUY6xisx3gk-ONzdZuk/s320/052712.pond.JPG" width="320" /></a> <br />
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Then we cruised by where Jen has been working on the way home, where she has been working on a garden along with the patients. My eyes of course wandered to snakey-looking cover objects. Dig the pile of black roofing material at the base of the wall.<br />
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And now dig one of the brown snakes (<i>Storeria dekayi</i>) under it! <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-e17xH58pQK1fxEc_qJEjIltVFVwvLICHehwrAzAJXSLrwY1R9f4RCgH8Ff3fGzaigQOv7AeYBXH5Rv-6ulMOxeh5uVUs60Hsl-_OrmP_baHtzqucmM5ndb3LW9PpHYcCRC5K/s1600/052712.s.dekayi.2061.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-e17xH58pQK1fxEc_qJEjIltVFVwvLICHehwrAzAJXSLrwY1R9f4RCgH8Ff3fGzaigQOv7AeYBXH5Rv-6ulMOxeh5uVUs60Hsl-_OrmP_baHtzqucmM5ndb3LW9PpHYcCRC5K/s320/052712.s.dekayi.2061.JPG" width="320" /></a>Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-76694050184189834272012-05-31T18:25:00.000-07:002012-05-31T18:25:53.939-07:00<a href="http://phillyherping.blogspot.com/2012/05/tuesday-morning-i-headed-out-of-house.html" target="_blank">Last month I checked out a big tract of vacant land in North Philly</a>. I felt a little skittish to explore it all on my own, but last week I recruited Scott to join me on a more thorough exploration.<br />
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I could have a lot of fun here. Though I am sure plenty of sketchy stuff happens there, all the kids riding around on their dirt bikes and ATVs and the ordinary-looking guys with their kids fishing in the river put us at ease.<br />
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And there are a ton of snakes, all a short and easy bike ride from my office. Of course they're common snakes - garters (<i>Thamnophis sirtalis</i>) and browns (<i>Storeria dekayi</i>) - but they were everywhere, and some of them were lookers.<br />
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Of course my iPhone took the blurriest photos of the pretty ones:<br />
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But the volume in such a short period of time walking around seemed to make up for that disappointment.<br />
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And there's something cool about the ruins, about a thriving industrial site now overtaken by a mix of natural forces (trees, meadows) and human (graffiti): <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgotIKZezNvtILn7KrqCdHvIlEm3HqtlJoEQ24NU6o2YvfP1RyNsjucTIkK4FRzxfr4CTcOiWryNHKInjBO4XDF3ioVyjPjkv69v3yEQYPm5w2s8jisSgts4jsgdrLItzkCUPFk/s1600/052312.hab1.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgotIKZezNvtILn7KrqCdHvIlEm3HqtlJoEQ24NU6o2YvfP1RyNsjucTIkK4FRzxfr4CTcOiWryNHKInjBO4XDF3ioVyjPjkv69v3yEQYPm5w2s8jisSgts4jsgdrLItzkCUPFk/s320/052312.hab1.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
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<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPKKHbOHqJYr_lUYt-HZbCBFDISdpQppmTEXwjxAOayN38LIOu5RtpFtMsiOOIL5l7L9M5WH3rtVIF74TDdd-9uldaZ_B7Zcc5QkLFCq-t3iLM1eU5cl1qVkZtCy0MzlHjfYfC/s320/052312.hab2.JPG" width="240" /><br />Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-33214560154442119432012-05-31T05:22:00.001-07:002012-05-31T05:22:14.981-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Here's another garter snake DOR on 27th at the base of the South Street Bridge, pretty much the exact same spot as <a href="http://phillyherping.blogspot.com/2012/05/nothing-unusual-about-this-scene-road.html" target="_blank">the one from the beginning of the month</a>. It is certainly a sign from the herping gods that I need to explore back in there. <br />
<br />Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-31445783330537622012-05-25T18:05:00.000-07:002012-05-25T18:05:00.683-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht8aKBfXZtE-28wolMk1uekWLM96nwJdBP7O6FmArww_MNKUbslo7P9xEJxfHQkhw4WnIKEK5cljpSQpLK-nrlzam_pl3yohL8XcZ1Uefp5y7VbaeT1xIwYge2x8J_4lRh4d_R/s1600/052012.c.horridus.1.2053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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On Sunday I finally did something about the fact that Magnolia had never met a timber rattlesnake (<i>Crotalus horridus</i>). I realize that sentence could look alarming to a non-herper, and I mean it in a very safe sense: Magnolia would 'meet' a rattlesnake at a distance of several yards, well above the ground from the safety of a baby carrier strapped to my chest. Nonetheless I wanted to get my new favorite person in the world out into one of my favorite habitats with some of my favorite creatures. Even if we struck out we'd be enjoying the sunshine, fresh air, and new sounds and textures of the woods on top of a mountain.<br />
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I also was interested in testing the concept of taking the baby out on a mountain hike. I figured it couldn't be much harder than slogging through a marsh with the mud sucking back on my hip waders, but still I had some questions about balance and endurance while climbing and hiking. <br />
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I'll admit to more caution than I usually display on these trips. I was less willing to be surprised by a rattler coiled a few feet away, and so avoided brushier sections of forest floor. Hopping from boulder gave way to more careful stepping, and precarious short cuts to more-deliberately picked routes. <br />
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And of course I got a late start. The general challenges of preparing a baby for a long car ride followed by a hike were compounded by the clear and sunny weather on Sunday. Rattlers tend not to linger in the sun if they can warm up quickly, so that they are most easily observed in hazy or even cloudy conditions. Strong sun means that they can heat up in a few minutes and then retreat out of sight, making it harder to spot them compared to cloudier conditions in which they might spend hours out in plain view.<br />
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Thus I excuse the poor results. We saw one rattler in a spot I could have seen at least five in better weather, but I'll take it. Any rattler is a magical beast,with a commanding presence and heavy grace. This one buzzed at us from the middle of the path ahead as I came down off a slab where we had spent a few minutes hanging out (and changing a diaper).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht8aKBfXZtE-28wolMk1uekWLM96nwJdBP7O6FmArww_MNKUbslo7P9xEJxfHQkhw4WnIKEK5cljpSQpLK-nrlzam_pl3yohL8XcZ1Uefp5y7VbaeT1xIwYge2x8J_4lRh4d_R/s1600/052012.c.horridus.1.2053.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht8aKBfXZtE-28wolMk1uekWLM96nwJdBP7O6FmArww_MNKUbslo7P9xEJxfHQkhw4WnIKEK5cljpSQpLK-nrlzam_pl3yohL8XcZ1Uefp5y7VbaeT1xIwYge2x8J_4lRh4d_R/s320/052012.c.horridus.1.2053.JPG" width="320" /></a> <br />
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At first I thought we had startled it as it had been crossing the path. I took a few photos and backed off, waiting for the snake to move. It did not. I gave it a little more time, but it stayed put, buzzing each time I moved. Finally I picked a long detour around its position and starting looking elsewhere. Still it sat in the middle of the path, now in a more comfortably relaxed coil.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjpBDpRpeFnKalt_j4a8ds5rWvA2oyMErUwK_pJsCBL2PTxA2VYh2TtyedLndXDqhPAqb357_AO-UG_72hZQaylFW4Q8yp-Y_RKoWRulM0MJV0YxXtDIFF5YqWuaXDd3LohdCF/s1600/052012.c.horridus.2.2053.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjpBDpRpeFnKalt_j4a8ds5rWvA2oyMErUwK_pJsCBL2PTxA2VYh2TtyedLndXDqhPAqb357_AO-UG_72hZQaylFW4Q8yp-Y_RKoWRulM0MJV0YxXtDIFF5YqWuaXDd3LohdCF/s320/052012.c.horridus.2.2053.JPG" width="320" /></a> <br />
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I wondered at that point if it hadn't been crossing the path at all, but rather setting up to bask when we had walked up on it. Sure enough it was still there a few minutes later, soaking up the sun.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii7shUTRePt8inaHIDwuy_A0C5JCQVhOoG-iMXYgVLtCP81g7XgD6YsytjjJl-5Qp52l0UhDrnr1dv-9gO-qEkELB9_4JAlr64HKhxMt5zd28DJJElsZyOKCiFnAUl6TOQ9nbW/s1600/052012.c.horridus.3.2053.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii7shUTRePt8inaHIDwuy_A0C5JCQVhOoG-iMXYgVLtCP81g7XgD6YsytjjJl-5Qp52l0UhDrnr1dv-9gO-qEkELB9_4JAlr64HKhxMt5zd28DJJElsZyOKCiFnAUl6TOQ9nbW/s320/052012.c.horridus.3.2053.JPG" width="287" /></a><br />
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The buzzing that I had had interpreted as pure fear now seemed more like a wary, angry message, 'get the hell off my lawn!' <br />
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With that, and a growing ache from my lower back, I decided to head for the car a few miles away. On route we saw one of Pennsylvania's omnipresent pickerel frogs (<i>Lithobates palustris</i>) hop into a seasonal puddle.<br />
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I'm not sure what tadpoles these might be, maybe wood frog (<i>Lithobates sylvatica</i>)?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdXLE8izsgjC4jwV-PIxPXqps5WmD3c7aMsSvXxLeB7zAXCv114maheeM6CCvCoYJzjrrxiQ1DIhjBSqOQhk5e_jxOK4uCBfDe3ES9e3WhUPqiXfH8ubWMFghrMSvfWT-e89vO/s1600/052012.tadpoles.2055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdXLE8izsgjC4jwV-PIxPXqps5WmD3c7aMsSvXxLeB7zAXCv114maheeM6CCvCoYJzjrrxiQ1DIhjBSqOQhk5e_jxOK4uCBfDe3ES9e3WhUPqiXfH8ubWMFghrMSvfWT-e89vO/s320/052012.tadpoles.2055.JPG" width="281" /></a></div>
<br />Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-42618553422775733762012-05-19T19:05:00.003-07:002012-05-19T19:05:56.851-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;">
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Last weekend I was invited to lead a herping walk with
Master Naturalist students at the <a href="http://www.schuylkillcenter.org/" target="_blank">Schuylkill Center for EnvironmentalEducation</a>. I think this is a fabulous idea: an opportunity for
nature-interested folks to round out their knowledge of the natural world. </div>
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The property is covered with wonderful milk snake
microhabitat (taking as given that all of Northwest Philadelphia’s rocky
hillsides are good general habitat). The class leader, Director of Education
Virginia Ranly, pointed to the piles of wood chips and said their land manager
often finds milk snakes (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lampropeltis
triangulum</i>) when he moves them. I sighed and knew that unless I spent all
morning digging I probably wouldn’t find any. She also mentioned some ruins and
rock piles that also host milks, and, most-tempting, black rat snakes (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Pantherophis obsoleta</i>). </div>
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Herpers quickly learn that there can be miles of distance
between ‘often’ or even ‘all the time’ and ‘reliably’ when it comes to finding
the critter we’re looking for. Locals will tell you they see milk snakes ‘all
the time,’ and the herper will run out to check the spot and find none. When
you actually ask what they mean by ‘all the time,’ i.e. on what proportion of
trips do they actually see the critter, you realize why the herpers come up
dry. Figure the land manager is out there on the property doing things that
will turn up milk snakes pretty much every day. I’ll bet he sees a milk snake
no more than once a week in the spring and early summer. If I saw a notable
bird that often I would also refer to seeing it ‘all the time,’ but in practice
that might boil down to dozens of hours of time per snake found. </div>
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Luckily you CAN reliably find many other species at the
Center. You can start, for example, with the painted turtles (Chrysemys picta)
that bask around the pond in the parking lot. If you get close to the edge of
the pond, frogs and toads (green – <i>Lithobates clamitans</i>, pickerel – <i>Lithobates
palustris</i>, American toads – <i>Bufo americanus</i>) will launch themselves into the
water. </div>
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The green frogs won’t even bother to jump when you approach
the human-made ponds along the trails. They just sit there like fat little frog
statues while their tadpole offspring wriggle around the shallow water. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmkFyLwIx85N_KktzdcncRoByAXOHv1v1lphgyo5eOzoQ2tLg_Nz3mWyo1xppHeO6mqZWsniIKiT8Zv_hyphenhyphenwMkRoVquMce4yEuCm6M_9A5YAvwdN3K8AxrPKuV2iBho51xZ-Gxz/s1600/051212.l.clamitans.2046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmkFyLwIx85N_KktzdcncRoByAXOHv1v1lphgyo5eOzoQ2tLg_Nz3mWyo1xppHeO6mqZWsniIKiT8Zv_hyphenhyphenwMkRoVquMce4yEuCm6M_9A5YAvwdN3K8AxrPKuV2iBho51xZ-Gxz/s320/051212.l.clamitans.2046.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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We found that it wasn’t too hard to turn up dusky
salamanders (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Desmognathus fuscus</i>) and
even larval two-lines (Eurycea bislineata) in the streams, newts (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Notopthalmus viridiscens</i>)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in one of the ponds, and of course red-backed
salamanders (Plethodon cinereus) in the woods. </div>
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Somehow I forgot to photograph most of this. </div>
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I did remember to take a photo of a garter snake basking from between the rocks of the wall around the Center's greenhouse. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC-eJNMbNmje3sD9wPUQAj2hQmcwdy764lDBugn1F2W5R0jgPDG3rB8SvI6UOr_nBHV2gfSxgafOK40HD7iN75Pl2JIWjlP-ZHEAkU1f9B8QT4BIoJwqVHxrfonErt-5RORA6b/s1600/051212.t.sirtalis.1.2041.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC-eJNMbNmje3sD9wPUQAj2hQmcwdy764lDBugn1F2W5R0jgPDG3rB8SvI6UOr_nBHV2gfSxgafOK40HD7iN75Pl2JIWjlP-ZHEAkU1f9B8QT4BIoJwqVHxrfonErt-5RORA6b/s320/051212.t.sirtalis.1.2041.JPG" width="320" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUduFk6frHMhznDvKwcpvI5grilK6iQslAnXX5-9J1cY5ezveykHMVk4TtsWo8Ee3j6mM8mCxJwH_uQuFtJrvjnAST_3rQ55jNvsOfiUSwqCTlZ05m6HAL3_H2b47Lgf05hrCk/s1600/051212.t.sirtalis.2.2041.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUduFk6frHMhznDvKwcpvI5grilK6iQslAnXX5-9J1cY5ezveykHMVk4TtsWo8Ee3j6mM8mCxJwH_uQuFtJrvjnAST_3rQ55jNvsOfiUSwqCTlZ05m6HAL3_H2b47Lgf05hrCk/s320/051212.t.sirtalis.2.2041.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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On the way there and back I made sure to spy on the turtles
of the Manayunk Canal. As usual most were the out-of-place red-eared sliders (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Trachemys scripta</i>),descendents of
released pets, but I am pretty sure most of these guys are our native
red-bellies (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Pseudemys rubriventris</i>).
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5elV11TCI6EyWwZu-ItuhGcVqC4O1o0ii6_FW06RvdHvNyDYQRkWmgoWMz5-MEFV5wBSmnLa6HrGvOhkzL5l3TmOn8jJGdw0-pzvkTTJLtTr0zTIxVMIwB-N1QM7fw3lm8DFc/s1600/051212.p.rubriventris.1.2051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5elV11TCI6EyWwZu-ItuhGcVqC4O1o0ii6_FW06RvdHvNyDYQRkWmgoWMz5-MEFV5wBSmnLa6HrGvOhkzL5l3TmOn8jJGdw0-pzvkTTJLtTr0zTIxVMIwB-N1QM7fw3lm8DFc/s320/051212.p.rubriventris.1.2051.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Last, here are some of the interloper sliders (natives of primarily the Mississippi drainage) on a rock in the Schuylkill not far up from the Fairmount Dam. </div>
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<br /></div>Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13801645.post-41851221114108627462012-05-11T16:57:00.000-07:002012-05-11T16:57:00.199-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY91ZPFC8nqS7YxZ31yUSsitOiRSI8uvp_P6kXKUhxRtyki9wn8UULDOIOCQSlEuLtL19e4tPEKRt1bu1MTPnQxBU9WIuQHq2QxLoo5HMmCtn7PACWL8yc-j-QZtIIHSTg5qEr/s1600/050612.canarygrass.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY91ZPFC8nqS7YxZ31yUSsitOiRSI8uvp_P6kXKUhxRtyki9wn8UULDOIOCQSlEuLtL19e4tPEKRt1bu1MTPnQxBU9WIuQHq2QxLoo5HMmCtn7PACWL8yc-j-QZtIIHSTg5qEr/s320/050612.canarygrass.JPG" width="320" /></a> <br />
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I'm given to understand that babies and snapping turtles (<i>Chelydra serpentina</i>) don't mix well. As much as I think every child should know how to properly handle a snapping turtle, I decided 5 months is a little too young. I also found it challenging to try to wrangle a snapping turtle that weighed about as much as the baby on my back, with a diaper bag dangling in front of me (I still have to figure out how to load everything just right). So I took the lame pic with the turtle detained but not quite caught, and then let it go to burrow through the mud.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilteEqjMrOfoiNcbsR35b7J0QzPYiSHsgeCD3sCDswK4fC1QY6MPUhLkdI2StDOYqobEJ6ocMcl1Te0ilAieZoyZ_XK7jrGqT6ImIEYwrdiD4JHDZou6YFiLr7a2oDn4nzubuz/s1600/050612.c.serpentina.2038.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilteEqjMrOfoiNcbsR35b7J0QzPYiSHsgeCD3sCDswK4fC1QY6MPUhLkdI2StDOYqobEJ6ocMcl1Te0ilAieZoyZ_XK7jrGqT6ImIEYwrdiD4JHDZou6YFiLr7a2oDn4nzubuz/s320/050612.c.serpentina.2038.JPG" width="286" /></a> <br />
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I had found it by kicking. I hesitate to call this a proper herping technique, but when you're wading/slogging through your favorite marsh, you need to stop and investigate any hard object you happen to run into. Most will be old stumps, maybe even a rock, depending on the substrate, but this one proved to be round (as I probed it with the handle of my potato rake - I hesitate to reach into the mud until I know which end is the head and which is the tail), not fixed to the bottom, and indeed a turtle.<br />
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Here's the tadpole update. They're fewer and bigger:<br />
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Another puddle held some just-hatching toad (<i>Bufo americanus</i>) tadpoles, still hanging out along the empty jelly of their egg string. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH8jeVhi7Yab9LtCZDDKsyTeF5XjLZBkw-Ch6hqPs1_K175fCBZfdPQz1ZWIU6BaRbp_ZjC7CkTRFsp0XcWGRaKx7MeBSGOQAl1jwKi_FPUPzFc8aKTO7u4u4NukeOW21eca5x/s1600/050612.b.americanus.2040.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH8jeVhi7Yab9LtCZDDKsyTeF5XjLZBkw-Ch6hqPs1_K175fCBZfdPQz1ZWIU6BaRbp_ZjC7CkTRFsp0XcWGRaKx7MeBSGOQAl1jwKi_FPUPzFc8aKTO7u4u4NukeOW21eca5x/s320/050612.b.americanus.2040.JPG" width="320" /></a>Bernard Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13873568923999649831noreply@blogger.com0