HOPE GROWS…

A couple of days ago I spotted a queen snake twined among the grapevines atop the rail of the narrow deck which overlooks the river. While some folks probably wouldn't view a snake on their porch with much joy, for me this was both a pleasure as well as a welcome bit of good news.

Queen snakes are small members of the water snake family, quite docile in nature, and similar in appearance to garter snakes, to which they're closely related. They feed almost exclusively on crayfish, and are found only along rocky or graveled-bottom streams boasting very clean water. So having queen snakes around means your river or creek is in good shape, waterwise. Alas, in some states, an ever-increasing lack of this necessary high-quality watershed habitat has now caused queen snakes to be added to their "threatened" or "endangered" species lists.

I feel honored to have these little snakes as fellow riverbank residents. Yet better still, soon after moving here, I realized the local queen snakes's winter hibernaculum was apparently within the jumble of limestone rocks upon which the cottage is built. I know this because come the first warm days of early spring, upwards of two dozen queen snakes of all sizes suddenly appear on this southwest-facing deck, basking in the sun of the burgeoning season. After a few weeks of this group sunning, they begin to disperse—though on any given morning throughout the summer I can usually spot two or three queens ensconced amid the now-leafed-out grapevine.

Like clockwork this spring, as the weather warmed back in April, they reappeared—a dozen queens, from small to large, reveling in the welcome sun. 

Then…disaster! A huge winter front moved in. Within a few hours, temperatures in the low-70s˚F plummeted to well below freezing. Plus rain, sleet, snow—followed by a hard, freeze-up which endured for several weeks. I worried about my resident queen snakes. Had they made it back to their shelter in time? Would the population be wiped out? And as the arctic weather continued to linger, the ground remaining hard as iron, would they be able to survive such a long and unseasonable turn-around?

I feared the worst. And I didn't see a queen snake again until a few weeks ago when I found a single, foot-long, pencil-thin individual atop the vine-shaded rail. I've spotted what I'm certain is the same small snake on two subsequent occasions. But the snake in the photo above is considerably larger—in fact, at something like two feet long, about as big as queen snakes get. 

So, two survivors. Not enough to keep a population viable, but enough to give me hope that maybe a few others also escaped the killing cold.   

RETURNING QUEEN

Myladylove discovered this little queen snake when we were giving the yard a spring clean-up Sunday. It's the first snake I've seen this year—and I've been looking, considering the incredibly warm days we've had, many in the mid- to upper-70s˚F. 

Queen snakes, Regina septemvittata, are are small, shy, and completely harmless creatures. If you elect to handle one, about the worst they can do to you is discharge a rather malodorous musk. I picked this one up after taking a few photos; it wasn't exactly thrilled, but wasn't upset enough to give me a shot of stink. As snakes go, they're pretty docile.  

A big specimen might push two feet, but most will measure between a foot and eighteen inches. This one was probably close to sixteen inches, and no larger in diameter than my ring finger. I think their color and pattern is quite lovely. They look a lot like garter snakes, but unlike garters, have dark, ventral stripes. 

A type of water snake, queens are never found far from clean-running streams that have a stone or gravely bottom. That's because they feed almost exclusively on crawfish, which themselves require rocky, clean running water. They're therefore a good indicator species of high-quality water—and speaking as an Ohio stream fisherman, a good indicator of a potentially excellent smallmouth bass stream, since crawfish and bronzebacks are practically inseparable. The queen snake Myladylove uncovered below a pile of leaves in a flower bed, was perhaps thirty feet from the river. 

I was glad to see this first queen of the new year—not only as another indicator of just how far the season has progressed, but because I appreciate and enjoy having queen snakes around. And I'm always happy to know my neighbors have made it through the winter.

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BASKING QUEENS

Here on the riverbank, one of the vernal season's neatest events is the return of the queen snakes. 

Every spring—weeks before you'd think it was warm enough to see a cold-blooded reptile—queen snakes desert their hidey-holes below the cottage and climb the still-leafless grapevine tangles which twine through wood lattice along the river-facing deck. I begin watching for them on sunny days in late-March. It doesn't have to be much above freezing; just sunny. This year—in spite of various high waters—they've been making regular appearances for at least a month. 

Queen snakes are related to, and often mistaken for garter snakes. (Same family and sub-family, but different genuses.) Queens are water snakes, and sport longitudinally-running "keeled" scales, which act exactly like the keel on a boat, by increasing stability and tracking as the snake glides through the water. One of my queen snakes—likely a female—measures a bit over two feet long; about the absolute maximum for the species. The rest—I typically have 6-8 queen snakes scattered among the vines on a given day—run 12-18 inches, except for a couple which are under a foot and not much larger in diameter than a pencil.   

Presumably, my cottage queens shinny up lattice and vine to catch a better sun angle for basking. Yet this end of the cottage faces west, so the deck remains in shadow until the sun passes the overhanging end of the great-room's roof. Nevertheless, they've made their ascent by mid-morning. 

Depending on the river's level, it's maybe 10-12 feet from the water's edge to the top of the deck's rail. The little snakes usually clamber up as high as possible, sometimes ascending all the way to stretch out along the rail itself—especially after the weather warms and the grapevine is fully leafed. I usually allow a few grapevine tendrils to grow along and above the wooden rail, just so my little sunning serpents will have a bit of shade and concealment. You'd be amazed how easy it is to miss one of these basking snakes, even when it's only inches from where you've placed your hand while peering over and below, trying to spot them among the greenery.

Queen snakes are gentle and very tolerant of my close inspections. Because the queen snake's diet is almost exclusively soft-shelled crawfish, which in turn require waters free from acidification and pollution by heavy metals, their appearance indicates favorable news of a clean river and healthy ecosystem.


I can always use such good news. The basking queens are welcome.  

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A LACKADAISICAL DAY

This is shaping into one of those lackadaisical days here along the river. Which is really just a way of saying I'm in a lazy, loafing mood—feckless, sluggardly, indolent, good-for-nothing. Can't get into writing or yard work. Reading doesn't appeal. Taking a walk is out because of the temporarily bothersome knee. I've had three mugs of coffee since breakfast and still feel half-awake. 

I blame my mood on the weather. Currently it's 68 ˚F with scattered clouds—bright sun one minute, dark overcast the next. There's a serious front on the way bringing afternoon showers and thunderstorms, possible large hail, gusty winds. Tomorrow's high is predicted to only reach 39˚F, and we may have sleet and snow tonight. I need to take advantage of this nice weather while I can. 

Except…I'm all but useless, devoid of inspiration or energy, about as inert as one of the mid-river boulders. The day is washing over me and I'm just sitting here dull and dysfunctional. 

An hour ago I sauntered around the backside of the cottage, looking to see if I could spot one of the small queen snakes that have been appearing about the yard during the past week. I turned one up here yesterday, beneath a windrow of old sycamore leaves. No doubt these are members of the queen-snake clan who like to sun themselves on my riverside deck. I suspect recent high water displaced them from their winter hibernaculum in the rocky rubble of the streambank, forcing them to seek temporary shelter wherever they could find sufficient refuge—including nearby fluffy leafpiles. 

I saw no snakes, but I did take a few shots of the white crocus blooming nearby—delicate, several lightly veined in purple, almost seeming to glow with their own luminosity in the soft, dim light. 

So far, I confess—that pix and this post are the closest I've come to an accomplishment for the day….

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