Earth Almanac: May/June 2009

Udder Hokum

Farming is a test. If it’s not the nightjars (a.k.a. “goatsuckers”) swilling from the teats of your nannies, it’s the milk snakes emptying the udders of your dairy cows. That either tale was ever commonly believed (as invariably reported in the literature) is debatable, but farmers loved their animal mythology, hence the names. The milk snake, abiding east of the Rockies, is our most widely distributed and, arguably, most beautiful snake. This secretive, cold-tolerant constrictor haunts barns because rodents are a major part of its diet. It protects itself from predators by mimicking the flashy color pattern of the venomous coral snake, but this same strategy often leads to its demise at the hands of humans who misidentify it. If you encounter a snake with red, black and yellow bands, remember this ditty: “Red on black, friend of Jack. Red on yellow, kill a fellow.” Even if it’s not a coral snake, there’s an excellent reason not to handle it: You’re apt to get hosed down with vile-smelling feces. Now is the best time to go looking for these gaudy reptiles because, as summer approaches, they become increasingly nocturnal. If you don’t find one in the open, start turning over boards and logs. 

The Catbird Feats

The gray catbird heralds high spring east of the Rockies. The males come first, in congregations aptly called “mewings”—from the catlike complaint that terminates their rambling, melodious, often nocturnal songs. Like their cousins the mockingbirds, they are accomplished mimics—or, as the PC bird police now insist, “vocal appropriators.” One catbird that resided near a cemetery where “Taps” was frequently played learned the notes of the first three phrases. Early 20th century ornithologist Chester Reed nailed the bird’s personality when he wrote that it seems “determined to find out what you are doing, why you are doing it, and what you are going to do next.” And ornithologist Edward Forbush, Reed’s contemporary, described it as “in turn a merry jester, a fine musician, a mocking sprite, and a screaming termagant.” No other species provides a better excuse for cooling it with the clippers and pruning shears, for preserved thickets provide nesting sites. Watch the wild courtship chases, and listen to the outpouring of song. Puffed up and tail lowered, the male bows until his bill touches the ground, lifts his tail, sashays, struts, and flashes his chestnut rump patch. Both sexes construct several “practice nests,” but the female usually builds the final one. If a cowbird lays eggs in it, she will almost always eject them. But if a cowbird discards her first egg, the catbird may misidentify and eject her own eggs.