A Small Journey

     It was still very cold. Too early in the year for the official start of Spring, but he needed to stretch his bones. He slithered passed the others with whom he shared the same old crawdad burrow. As he got closer to the burrow’s entrance, he stuck out his tongue and sensed the outside world. He used all his muscles to climb out and was happy to be greeted by the warmth of the sun on a chilly winter day. Outside the burrow, or hibernaculum, was a plethora of sunning spots. Large river rocks were down in the dry creek bed, and logs were further up the embankment. He chose the logs. It would be a harder climb to get to the logs, but an easier way back to the burrow if he got in trouble. As he writhed up the embankment, he could feel every bone in his cylindrical body ache. He was slower than ever after a long hibernation. This was just what he needed to wake up his cold stiff body. 
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      After each movement he stopped and tentatively tasted the air. He smelled dirt and the crisp leaves on the ground that had fallen many months ago in the peak of autumn. The smells of other animals wafted his way; he could taste squirrels, and chipmunks who had been anxiously rooting around in the dirt for their stash of nuts that they may never find. In early days he would be worried about squirrels. They are notorious for going after young snakes, but he wasn’t young, and he wasn’t small. He knew he didn’t have to worry about squirrels. He was anxiously awaiting the Spring when he could go his separate way and live alone until next fall. Snakes are solitary animals except during hibernation. Hibernation is not exactly the correct terms for what snakes do in the winter. Rather than sleep for months at a time, they simply slow down. They do sleep for longer amounts of time and their metabolism slows down, but on the occasional warm winter day, a brave snake might venture out to sun itself. During the winter snakes do not eat; their body temperatures and metabolism are too slow to digest any food. They are also physically slow and would not be fast enough to be able to catch prey. 

       He was eager to get to the log. It was a large fallen tree that looked as if it had fallen over a decade ago. He slithered slowly through the leaves and undergrowth on his way to the perfect sunning spot. The rotting wood exterior would make it easier to climb and the grooves would provide extra camouflage from above. That’s what he was really worried about. Attacks from above are hard for snakes to defend. Hawks and crows do not discriminate when it comes to the size of snake. It was an even playing field. His only defense against an aerial attack would be hiding or standing his ground, which would be especially difficult since he was still very slow and stiff.

       He made his way diligently to the log and began to climb the side. Every muscle and bone in his body was working hard to climb the once formidable tree. Once he reached to top, he took a moment and tasted the air around him. He was on full alert. He could taste the stale sent of raccoons, as well as the pheromones of other garter snakes. He must not be the only one who thought this log was a good sunning spot. He could even taste the bugs and salamanders that made their homes under the decaying log. Food was the last thing on his mind though. Maybe in Spring he would come back and see about the tasty meal underneath the sunning spot. Spring sounded so pleasant, but so far away. He thought fondly of the warm months when he could fill his belly with anything he could catch; insects, frogs, other snakes, and his favorite of all, salamanders. He curled his body back and forth until he was perfectly coiled. Relaxed by the warmth that infected his scales he began to feel more like himself, almost like it was Spring, like a predator, and less like prey. 

     He rested undisturbed for many hours. He remained diligent though, tasting the air regularly for any sign of a predator. A couple squirrels came close, but they were too preoccupied with finding food to notice the statuesque snake. Even then he knew he wasn’t in much danger; squirrels typically prefer young snakes. However, in the middle of winter animals become hungrier, and often more unpredictable. It wasn’t impossible that a starving squirrel might take on more than they could handle. He kept an idle eye on one squirrel in particular. He watched the large grey squirrel dig in the dirt and under the leaves right next to the log; he could taste the smell of the freshly dug dirt on the sharp claws of his foe. The squirrel kept coming closer to the log until he knew he had to react. He knew he wasn’t fast enough to make an escape, not this early in the year. So, he coiled himself tighter, he flexed his body and prepared to strike at any moment if the enemy came any closer.  He was a loose cannon of potential energy that could strike at a moment’s notice. The squirrel was moving even closer. The only taste in the snake’s mouth was his own fear. He began to raise his head preparing for the inevitable, and then his foe stopped in his tracks. The squirrel was frozen, not even a twitch of a whisker. Then within a second’s notice the squirrel sprinted up the nearest tree and began a jarring cry of alarm. The plan worked; he had scared the squirrel. He began to relax his muscles, ready to enjoy the last bit of sun when he heard the unmistakable sound of wings descending upon the log. 

​       A large red-tailed hawk dove from the canopy above. Her wings beat the air in such a way the sound was almost disorientating to the snake’s senses. Tiny feather particles rained down on the log like large snowflakes in the middle of a winters flurry. She was hungry, and the snake knew he would have to put up a fight, or at least a show of strength. He was up against an enemy five times his size, and he made it his first goal to not let the hawk know that. Instantly he rose his head to meet the hawks. Using the lower half of his body he pushed his head as high as he could into the air. Hovering and moving unpredictably to confuse the enemy into thinking he was large and would strike at any moment. The hawk was taken aback with the size and spunk of this experienced snake, but that didn’t change her need for food. She hopped closer to the snake trying to grab him with her large blood-stained talons. He moved out of the way just in time. He took the opportunity to make a calculated strike at her eyes. He missed, but she got the idea that he was ready to put up a fight. Alarmed by the strike from the brave snake she fluttered back a pace to compose herself. She tilted her head side to side as she was making her plan of attack, but the snake was already making his. He charged at the large bird with his head raised to hers. He bobbed up and down to confuse her, and then attacked again. He came even closer to her face this time. She had enough of this nonsense and was impatient for her meal. She hovered over the log and snake and tried to land on top of him. He couldn’t match her height now, but he could still strike. He coiled and used every ounce of energy he had to make a leap for her feet as she floated over him. Frustrated and intimated, the hawk relented. She decided she could find easier dinner elsewhere. With a few heavy flaps of her wings she vanished back into the canopy as quickly as she came, leaving only a trace of small down feathers to mark their battle. 

    The snake remained coiled for several long moments, not wanting to jinx his good fortune. He tasted the air only to become overwhelmed by the smell of musky feathers that she had left behind. He had exhausted himself during the fight. He couldn’t scare off a squirrel let alone the bird if she came back. He did the only thing left to do; he went home. As quickly as he could he slinked back to the borrow using whatever energy he had left. Crawling through the leaves he passed the twigs and debris that littered the forest floor not even bothering to taste, or to listen for predators. He only paused once outside the old burrow. He savored the last bit of warm sunlight on his scales before he slithered back into the damp hibernaculum. 

Works Cited:

Acton, Jerry. “Garter Snake.” Snake, 2009, www.jerryacton.com/Galleries/Animals/Snake/i-NBhWvrr/. 

“Eastern Garter Snake.” Eastern Garter Snake - Ohio History Central, indenohiohistorycentral.org/w/Eastern_Garter_Snake.

Gleaton, Amelia. “Eastern Garter Snake (Thamnophis Sirtalis).” Species Profile: Eastern Garter Snake (Thamnophis Sirtalis) | SREL Herpetology, srelherp.uga.edu/snakes/thasir.htm. 

 Missouri Department of Conservation. “Critter of The Week.” Springfield New-Leader, 2015, www.gannett-cdn.com/-mm-/6b3a747125e5cc64cd0a74ab1 50a046d37a5e49b/c=0-100-2250-1366/local/-/media/Springfield/2  015/04/08/B9316889067Z.1_20150408172335_000_GETAEF630.1-0.jpg?

“Red-Tailed Hawk.” The Raptor Center, 2013, raptor.umn.edu/about-raptors/raptors-north-america/red-tailed-hawk. 

Sullivan, Brian. “Red-Tail Hawk.” All about Birds, 2010, www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Red-tailed_Hawk/media-browser/60384911.