As we move through time into the latter portion of the summer of ’24, there can be found signs of the annual preparations by wildlife to deal with seasonal change.
Some species migrate to more hospitable climes, others get ready for that long hibernation sleep, while some will stay and stick it out by various adaptations.
You may well have already heard and seen the many families of Canada geese that have been gathering in ever growing flocks, and perhaps have noticed the telephone lines supporting dozens upon dozens of starlings as they roost and keep an eye on the ripening corn crops.
Sometime it’s the absence of a species that makes itself known, such as the last sighting of a ruby-throated hummingbird flitting through the jungle of jewelweed blossoms, or the last straggling monarch butterfly trying to figure out which way leads to Mexico. (Although, as if to set your mind at ease, there are now websites dedicated to tracking the movements of these and other migrants.)
Occasionally a strange sight may be noted, such as the other day as I looked upwards to check the possibility of rain, a flock of 15 nighthawks passed overhead with determination and precision in their measured wing beats, albeit heading west rather than south.
And then there are the snakes. (Notice how I lured the snake-haters into the story by discussing the ‘cuddly’ species first?) On our farm we are very lucky to have several species of snakes, including the common garter snake, the uncommonly found red-bellied snake, and a good population of milk snakes, the latter being on the province’s list of species at risk.
There used to be several encounters with these reptiles every summer, but as the wild turkey population has grown the population of snakes has plummeted. As the birds rake through the fallen leaves for morsels to sustain themselves, any baby snake is quickly caught and devoured.
More turkeys means more hunting which means the young snakes are often removed prior to attaining breeding age. So a snake sighting is a bit of a thrill these days.
Snakes kind of migrate, and kind of adapt, and kind of hibernate. Typical reptile ... doesn’t follow the rules set by mammals and birds.
For many snakes their fall migration consists of returning, sometimes en masse, to a hibernaculum. A hyber-who? A hibernaculum is an underground chamber located below the frost line where the snakes can wait out the cold months. Water snakes and garter snakes are both well known to have several individuals sharing their winter quarters.
Snakes, like other reptiles and amphibians, are classed as being ectothermic, meaning their body temperature is affected by the surrounding air temperature. Basking in the sun warms them up, hiding in the shade cools them down. Therefore, the hibernaculum has to maintain a constant level of cool but not cold temps as well as a maintained level of humidity.
As these overwintering sites need to be so specific, a good one is used year after year. But when something bad happens, such as a road being built or a property ‘cleaned up’, the snakes have to do a wide-ranging search for a replacement winter hide-away.
As any snake prepares for winter, it stops eating. The reason for this is that their metabolism slows down and digestion all but stops. If food, such as a mouse or frog, is only partially digested, the remains will rot if not properly passed through the entire process. While they go to sleep hungry, they will survive to emerge again into the springtime sunshine.
You have probably noticed that snakes do not have eyelids, so how can you tell if it’s sleeping? The transparent scale that protects the eye is replaced wherever the snake sheds its skin, but otherwise it is left staring ... staring .... staring ... admittedly one of the weirder traits of snakes.
While cleaning up some garden debris yesterday, a very active garter snake kept circling around the raised beds. I know that for the summer months they live under a couple of these structures, but being ‘raised’ the entire contents are at risk of freezing solid over the winter; so a winter home must be found.
When last seen it was scooting towards a distant rotting tree stump, no doubt hoping to locate an entrance hole to a subterranean snake resort.
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