Western Diamondback Rattlesnake

Western Diamondback Rattlesnake (Crotalus atrox) | Gloss Mountains, Major Co., Oklahoma

I’m always delighted to see snakes, even venomous species, and whenever my collecting takes me west I know my chances of seeing snakes are good. My first stop during the current collecting trip was the Gloss Mountains of northwestern Oklahoma, and although I have visited this place several times since “discovering” it in June 2009, I have seen only a single snake during all of my previous visits—a charming little Western Pygmy Rattlesnake (Sistrurus miliarius streckeri). I’m a little surprised by this, as the habitat looks perfect for the one snake that truly don’t look forward to encountering—the Prairie Rattlesnake (Crotalus viridis). As I roam the surrounding mixed grass prairies (by both day and night) I am ever on the watch for these terrifyingly aggressive snakes, having learned my lesson with this species a few years ago in South Dakota’s Black Hills. I spent two days in the area during this trip, and I still have not seen one, but I did see a young (just over 2 feet in length) Western Diamondback Rattlesnake (Crotalus atrox)—my first for this species. Although he was lying in an eroded ravine in the red clay talus slopes and partially hidden by an overhanging clump of grass, the diamond pattern immediately drew my eye as something out of the ordinary, and I was able to move the grasses aside (with my net handle!) and get this shot before he even flinched. After the first flash he started getting agitated, and I was only able to get two more (not as good) shots before he’d had enough and began retreating into the thicker grass above the ravine—rattle buzzing vigorously as he left. Comparatively speaking, he was one of the most docile rattlesnakes I’ve encountered, but since this is the only Western Diamondback I’ve seen I don’t know if that is a hallmark of the species or more due to his young age.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2013

His name is Ralph!

Eastern hognose snake (Heterodon platirhinos) | Wayne Co., Missouri

Until the past few years, I could probably count on my two hands the number of snakes I’d seen in the field. This despite nearly weekly outings throughout each season going back to young adulthood. I’m sure this has something to do with my search image (beetles), my primary method of looking for them (whacking tree branches with my net handle over a beating sheet), and what I wasn’t also doing at the time (looking for snakes or anything else that wasn’t a beetle). One is unlikely to see these mostly shy, secretive animals when thrashing and whacking through the bush, and even if no ruckus is made to make them scamper they can still hide in plain sight due to their wonderfully cryptic coloration. It wasn’t until I started carrying a camera and began looking for other natural history subjects rather than just focusing on collecting as many beetles as possible that I began to see snakes. And since then I’ve seen a lot of them, including a terrifyingly aggressive timber rattler, a juvenile Osage copperhead, an uncooperative dusty hognosed snake, a death-feigning western hognosed snake, a cute little western pygmy rattlesnake, a rough green snake, a juvenile timber rattler, an adult Osage copperhead, and a yellow-bellied racer. The last three were all seen at what has become for me my favorite “snake spot”—a gorgeous preserve in the southeastern Missouri Ozarks. I’m not sure what makes this place so ideal—perhaps the massive outcroppings of jumbled rhyolite alongside the clear, spring-fed, gravel-bottomed river provide ample habitat and food for a variety of species. Regardless, I have visited the preserve each April  (for my annual season-opening birthday bug collecting trip) for the past three years and never failed to see at least one snake.¹

¹ To be clear, I am not a snake collector. That said, I do not have a problem with keeping snakes in captivity, at least in principle, but I am disturbed by the frequency with which snakes and other reptiles are irresponsibly collected at levels that are unsustainable and even “poached” from protected areas. For me personally, it is enjoyment enough to see, be able to identify, and observe these gorgeous animals in their native habitats, leaving with nothing more than a digital record and my vivid memories of that brief encounter.

When threatened, hognose snakes flatten their head and neck, puff up their body, and hiss loudly.

On my most recent visit, I was hoping to once again see one of the timber rattlers that inhabit these rocky hillsides. I tip-toed up and down the rocky slopes as quietly as I could, but no such luck. On the way back, however, I spotted this colorful eastern hognose snake (Heterodon platirhinos) lying just off the path. Despite its brilliant coloration and vivid markings, it was remarkably well camouflaged and I almost walked right past it. Of course, hognose snakes are well-known for their various threat and defensive displays. I’ve experienced some of these in my previous sightings with other species (death-feigning, mouth bleeding, and foul-smelling emissions), but to my delight I got to experience their most classic behaviors—flattening of the head and neck, puffing of the body, and loud hissing. The snake repeatedly performed these behaviors as I photographed it, and because I persisted the snake apparently concluded that these tactics weren’t working. What happened next was something I was completely unprepared for.

”Sir, what’s your name?”

As the snake began trying to crawl away, it opened its mouth widely…

”Uh, his name is…”

…and out came it’s last meal (obviously a frog, but with the head and front legs already digested, too difficult to identify any further)!

”RRRAAAALLPH!”

p.s. If you didn’t get the joke, watch this clip from the classic Cheech and Chong movie, Up in Smoke.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2013

Eye to eye with a copperhead

I don’t know what it is about Osage copperheads (Agkistrodon contortrix phaeogaster) that makes every encounter with one so special. They are perhaps the most common of Missouri’s five venomous snake species, and I’ve seen them more often than I can count. Still, every time I see one I simply must stop and marvel. This particular individual was seen a few weeks ago at Sam A. Baker State Park in Missouri’s southeastern Ozark Highlands. You might say it was “sloppy seconds”—I had actually gone to the park to look for timber rattlesnakes (Crotalus horridus), a juvenile of which I had seen during last year’s Annual-Birthday-First-Bug-Collecting-Trip-of-the-Season™ trip. I did not see any rattlesnakes this time, as access to the rockpilish cliffs along Big Creek where I saw the juvenile last year was blocked by high water, but I was quite pleased to find this copperhead underneath a log while we were there.

Copperheads are marvelous photographic subjects. Beautiful, rarely seen by those who don’t know how to look for them, and with an air of “danger” about them. Yet they are among the most docile of all snakes, venomous or otherwise. They don’t use aggression or warning sounds when threatened like cottonmouths (Agkistrodon piscivorus) or rattlesnakes, nor do they dash for cover like most non-venomous species. Instead, they rely on their cryptic, dead-leaf coloration to make them invisible. It works—even I, my eyes tuned to see just about anything after a half-century of clambering through the brush, didn’t immediately notice this individual when I first rolled over the log under which it had taken cover (although I did immediately notice the little red-backed salamander, Plethodon cinereus, at the other end of the area covered by the log). I suspect I’ve walked right by many more copperheads than I have seen, completely unaware of their presence.

Their docile nature also invites extreme close-ups that I wouldn’t dare attempt with a rattlesnake or cottonmouth—at least not without a much longer lens than my 100mm. These photos make it seem that I was right on top of the snake, although at a maximum magnification of around 1:2 there was still a reasonable amount of working distance (I did, however, keep my hands well back of the front of the lens—just for good measure). Still, in all my copperhead experiences, I have never seen a copperhead actually try to strike unless I touched it (not what you think!).

Eventually it’d had enough of our gawking and began to look for new cover.  As it uncoiled, I could see it’s still greenish but not too yellowish tail, indicating that it was still a youngster, though perhaps a little older than the first copperhead I tried to photograph.  We watched it as it crawled into the loose, dry leaves… and disappeared.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2011

A Horridus Birthday

For many years now, I’ve celebrated my birthday each year with the “season-opener-birthday-bug-collecting-trip.”  This happens regardless of what day of the week it falls (although two years ago I did get roped into a business trip – I made up for it by stumbling into a quick but thoroughly enjoyable tour of Pipestone National Monument before my flight back home).  Last year I made sure I got the day off and had a nice, festive (tiger beetle) birthday.  For this past April 23rd, a Friday, I celebrated my 29th birthday (for the 2-dozenth time!) by grabbing long-time field companion Rich and shooting down to Sam A. Baker State Park in the Ozark Highlands of southeastern Missouri.  My goal for the trip was to find the very uncommon Cladrastis kentukea (American yellowwood), a small tree that is known to occur in Missouri only in the White River Hills of the extreme southwest and in a few localities in and near Sam Baker State Park.  Actually, it wasn’t the tree so much that I was after, but a small jewel beetle – Agrilus cladrastis - that utilizes this plant exclusively for its larval host. To date, the only Missouri specimens of this species have been collected by the late, great Gayle Nelson on yellowwood in the White River Hills, and I wanted to see if I might be able to find it in southeastern Missouri as well.  April is still too early to encounter active adults, but my plan was to: 1) find examples of the tree, 2) collect dead wood from them, and 3) cut living branches to leave in situ for infestation this season and retrieval the next.  Long story short, I succeeded on all three counts (though I won’t know for a few weeks whether the wood I brought back actually harbors any as yet unemerged adults – finger crossed!).

The area where we expected to find the tree was steep, rocky slopes overlooking Big Creek on the north side of the park.  Rich and I were hiking a trail below the slopes, and I had gotten a little bit ahead of him when I saw a 30″ long snake stretched straight out across the trail.  Recognizing it immediately as one of our venomous species, but not quite sure which one, I blurted out, “Wow, what a gorgeous snake!”  Rich, a better herpetologist than I, shouted from a distance back, “What kind?”  In the few seconds during which this exchange was taking place, it all registered – the dark stripe behind the eye, the bold markings (too dark for a copperhead, too big for a western pygmy rattlesnake, too widely spaced for a massasauga), the black tail (not yellow-green like a juvenile copperhead), and a tiny little one-chambered rattle!  I yelled back, “A young timber rattler!”  Rich got there promptly, and we decided that it must be a yearling based on the time of year, its length, and the size of the rattle.

I have seen a few timber rattlesnakes (Crotalus horridus) in Missouri over the years, but never like this.  My previous sightings have all been fleeting glimpses after hearing them shooting into the underbrush to escape my close approach – me oblivious to their presence until it was too late.  This young snake, by contrast, didn’t flinch as I approached (carefully), set down the backpack, and assembled the camera to begin taking photographs.  As I began taking a few photos of the head area (from a respectful distance – the vision of that terrifyingly aggressive prairie rattlesnake from two years ago still lingers), it became agitated and started moving for cover.  Rich wasn’t too anxious to head it off at the pass, but I wasn’t satisfied with the shots that I’d gotten so far, so I grabbed my net to block it from disappearing into the litter.  That caused it to pause just long enough for me to get back into position and frame a shot… that I couldn’t get off before it started moving again!  We did this a few times until it finally just crawled right into the net – now what?!  I carried the net over to some large rocks on the side of the trail and used them to flip the net and dump out the snake, which immediately headed for cover underneath the rocks.  I figured the photo shoot was over then, but the space under the rocks was not deep, and after a bit of probing for escape routes the snake eventually settled into a money pose and I was able to snap away with glee – what do you think?

Missouri has five venomous snake species, all of which are pit vipers with three being rattlesnakes.  I’ve featured two of these in previous posts – the Osage copperhead and the western pygmy rattlesnake.  Both of these species occur throughout the Ozark Highlands, although the latter is more common in the southwestern part of the state.  The third rattlesnake species in Missouri, eastern massasauga, is rare in wet habitats scattered across northern Missouri, while the cottonmouth (or water moccasin) is limited to stream, river, and swamp habitats in the southern Ozarks and southeastern lowlands.  Many internet references list the western massasauga also as occurring in Missouri, but this subspecies is not included in the most recent Snakes of Missouri (Biggler and Johnson 2004).  Within Missouri, timber rattlesnakes have a statewide distribution, but they have been extirpated by humans from many areas and now occur as small populations in scattered locations across the state.  The same is true in other parts of their range as well, particularly along the western and northern limits.  It is thus a rare and exciting treat to see one of these magnificent animals, although the reasons for its rarity are both sobering and maddening.

REFERENCE:

Briggler, J. and T. R. Johnson.  2004. Snakes of Missouri. Missouri Department of Conservation, Jefferson City, 16 pp.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010

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Rough Green Snake

My string of good herp luck looks like it might continue in 2010.  You may recall the super-aggressive prairie rattlesnake and uncooperative dusty hognosed snake that I featured in 2008 (or not – my readership was rather minuscule back then), followed by the juvenile Osage copperhead, gorgeous male eastern collard lizard, bizarre Texas horned lizards, death-feigning western hognosed snake, super rare Florida scrub lizard, and – finally – cute little western pygmy rattlesnake in 2009. All but the copperhead and collared lizard were first-time sightings for me, and now in 2010 I have yet another first-time sighting to present – the rough green snake (Opheodrys aestivus aestivus).

Rough green snake (Opheodrys aestivus aestivus)

My friend Rich and I spotted this long and slender snake during our early April hike of the lower Wappapello Section of the Ozark Trail (soon after photographing the jumping spider). We would never have seen it, so effective was its green camouflage, had it not been disturbed by our close approach along the trail and tried to flee.  The moist bottomland habitat where we found it was thick with greenbrier (Smilax sp.), making tracking the snake a thorny affair, but I managed to head it off and start taking a few photos of it.  It was surprisingly calm during the early part of the photo session, but I just wasn’t getting the lighting and exposure that I wanted.  Eventually, it started fleeing again, and my efforts to rip through the greenbriers to stay close became too much for my arms to bear.  When it started climbing a tree, I said “enough is enough” and captured him, brought him back out to the comfort and openness of the trail, and had Rich hold him while I worked on getting some better photographs.  The one above is my favorite of the bunch.

Rough green snakes are found in Missouri primarily south of the Missouri River in the Ozark Highlands, where they feed on insects such as grasshoppers, crickets, and especially smooth caterpillars.  A second green snake occurs in Missouri as well, the smooth green snake (Opheodrys vernalis), which differs from the rough green snake by having smooth scales and a more northern distribution within the state. Sadly, the smooth green snake has not been seen in the state for a number of years now, probably because of loss of habitat resulting from the near complete agricultural conversion of that part of the state.

Photo Details: Canon 100 mm macro lens on Canon 50D, ISO 400, 1/60 sec, f/4.5, Canon MT-24EX flash w/ Sto-Fen diffusers. Minimal post-processing.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010

House of Herps #2

Welcome to the 2nd issue of House of Herps, the monthly blog carnival devoted exclusively to reptiles and amphibians.  The brainchild of Amber Coakley, (Birder’s Lounge), and Jason Hogle (xenogere), this new blog carnival had an auspicious start with the inaugural issue and its 21 contributions – an impressive level of participation for a new carnival.  This month the carnival moves off-site, and I am honored to serve as the first off-site host.  The enthusiasm continues with issue #2, for which I received 22 submissions from 18 contributors.  Ever the taxonomist, I present them to you below grouped by traditional classification¹.

¹ It should be noted that modern classification has “evolved” substantially from this traditional classification due to the advent of DNA molecular analyses. For example, lizards are a paraphyletic grouping, and even the class Reptilia has been subsumed within a broader class containing dinosaurs and birds. I stick with the traditional classification here for reasons of familiarity and convenience.

Class AMPHIBIA (Amphibians)
-Order CAUDATA (Salamanders)

California Giant Salamander (Dicamptodon ensatus).  At the nature of a man, Ken talks about not one, but two close encounters last fall with this otherwordly-looking creature.  The first one he saw was a monster of a salamander, measururing a whopping 12 inches (30 cm) in length as it brazenly lounged on a mountain bike trail.  Remaining docile for photographs, imagine Ken’s surprise when the salamander started barking at him when he picked it up to move it to safer ground!  In his second encounter, he got to watch one chomp down on a banana slug – mmm tasty! 

-Order ANURA (Frogs)

Upland Chorus Frog (Pseudacris feriarum).  At Anybody Seen My Focus?, Joan normally only gets to hear the breeding season calls of the chorus frog and his friends who have taken up residence in the water-filled bathtub that serves as a planter in her greenhouse, usually bobbing under the water upon any approach.  But on this occasion, he agreed to photographs, even allowing a final closeup.

Gulf coast toad (Bufo nebulifer).  At Dolittle’s Domain, Dr. Doolittle marvels at one of the many toads that she has found parked under the outside light all night (along with the bats and armadillos) during the cold darkness of December.  Rather than fleeing the camera flash in the face, he simply hunkered down trying to make himself flatter, apparently thinking that would make him invisible and not realizing that he just looked fatter!

Northern Cricket Frog (Acris crepitans).  HoH‘s own Jason weaves artful writing with stunning photographs to distinguish one of the smallest land vertebrates in North America at xenogere.  Despite their ubiquity, these little frogs often go unnoticed due to the smallness of their size, their impressive leap, and their extreme variability.  Get a good look at one, however, and you might notice a key feature or two.

American Bullfrog (Rana catesbeiana).  At Willow House Chronicles, barefootheart looks at frogs on the opposite end of the size spectrum, in fact North America’s largest frog living in an increasingly naturalized man-made pond in eastern Ontario.  These behemoths are more frequently heard than seen by their distinctive “yelp” and splash in response to being approached.  If you are lucky enough to get as good a look as barefootheart did, you might be able to distinguish male from female by looking at its eyes, ears, and throat.

Class REPTILIA (Reptiles)
-Order TESTUDINES (Turtles)

Common Snapping Turtle (Chelydra serpentina).  We have three contributions dealing with these grizzled, ancient, grotesquely beautiful reptiles.  The first one comes from Michelle at Rambling Woods, who shows us how it is possible to tame your pet common snapper (but only to a certain degree).  If her story isn’t enough, she also presents a short video clip on the common snapping turtle (REMEMBER – don’t ever try to catch or hold a snapping turtle with your bare hands!).  In another post, HoH‘s own Amber talks about her attempts to rescue a snapping turtle at Birder’s Lounge.  Fortunately for Amber, the little guy was just a tot – not nearly big enough to prune a digit and thwart Amber’s display of compassion.  It’s amazing how a creature so dinosaurian at maturity can still be so cute as a youngster.  In the third contribution about these fascinating creatures, Marge at Space Coast Beach Buzz talks about her snap (get it?) decision to adopt one of these animals, only to change her mind after discovering its true identity (and before losing any fingers).

Green Sea Turtle (Chelonia mydas).  David at Living Alongside Wildlife notes that while green iguanas falling from trees were a popular news report from the unusual cold snap experienced in the southeatern U.S. last month, they were not the only reptiles so adversely affected.  Sea turtles, populations of which have already been compromised by loss of nesting sites, fishing practices, and trash pollution, also found the coastal waters too cold for normal function.  While natural hardships may be nature’s way, he argues (quite effectively) that it is our responsibility to help mitigate their effects considering the perilous position in which we’ve placed these majestic animals to begin with.

Eastern Box Turtle (Terrapene carolina).  Two contributors submitted posts about these lovable oafs.  At A DC Birding Blog, John posted a photo of a box turtle seen at Brigantine Beach.  He wonders if their always disgruntled look is a result of him disturbing from their activities.  These turtles are easily identified by their bright markings – usually dark brown or olive-colored with bright orange or yellow patterns, dome-shaped carapace, and hinged plastron (bottom part).  Individual turtles have unique designs on their shells, making them identifiable in the field.  Turtles can get worms, believe it or not, and Celeste at Celestial Ramblings adds them to the growing list of animals that she has had to de-worm (including herself, ick!).  Step-by-step instructions and explicit photos combine to show that this is not an easy job, requiring no less than three people – “just another day at the office.”  Hmm – cats look easier!

Diamondback terrapin (Malaclemys terrapin).  The diamondback terrapin is the only species of turtle in North America that spends its life in brackish water (salty but less so than sea water).  At Kind of Curious, John describes efforts by The Wetlands Institute to prevent vehicle mortality caused by terrapins crossing roads in their attempt to reach higher ground for laying eggs.

-Order SQUAMATA
–Suborder LACERTILIA (Lizards)

Common Collared Lizard (Crotaphytus collaris).  From Jill at Count Your Chicken!  We’re Taking Over! comes this delightful encounter with one of North America’s most charismatic lizards.  I’ve had my own experiences with these guys, but I’ve never gotten one to crawl on my hat or – even better – gotten one to pose with me for a photograph!

Prairie Lizard (Sceloporus consobrinus).  Near my backyard, Marvin at Nature in the Ozarks presents a nice compendium of this species complimented with beautiful photographs.  Marvin not only discusses identification, distribution, life cycle, habitat, and food, but also comments on the recent DNA molecular analyses that have resulted in a reclassification of the former polytopic “fence lizard” and split up the many subspecies into full-fledged species – a man after my taxonomic heart!

“Culebrilla ciega” (Iberian Worm Lizard) (Blanus cinereus).  Javier at macroinstantes writes an artful blog focusing on natural history of the Iberian Peninsula (it is written in Spanish, but Google can easily translate to English for those who need it).  In this post, he presents extraordinary photographs of this subterranean reptile that is endemic to the Iberian Peninsula.  Traditionally classified in the family Amphisbaenidae, it is now considered to belong to its own family the Blanidae.

“Lagartija de Valverde” (The Spanish Algyroides) (Algyroides marchi).  Javier (macroinstantes) also writes about this small lizard that was only discovered in 1958.  With a global range limited to a few mountain streams in a mountainous area of southern Spain covering less than 2,000 km², it is clasified as endangered on the IUCN Red List.  Like so many of the world’s reptiles, its severely fragmented population is suffering declines due to continuing habitat degradation.

–Suborder SERPENTES (Snakes)

Western Rattlesnake (Crotalus viridis).  On the Colorado front range, Sally at Foothills Fancies had three encounters with this aggressive species on her property.  Fortunately, Sally has a “nonagression treaty” with rattlesnakes and allows them to go about their business as much as possible.  Those that get too close for comfort are humanely relocated rather than simply dispatched.  Sadly, many of Sally’s neighbors are not quite so understanding.

Texas Indigo Snake (Drymarchon corais erebennus).  These snakes do not have any such nonaggression treaty, and David at Living Alongside Wildlife contributes another piece illustrating the rattlenake-eating capabilities for which Indigo snakes are famous.  The photographs in the post show a large individual consuming a Western Diamondback Rattlesnake. David explains how these snakes are often identified as blacksnakes and reveals the characters visible on predator and prey that allow their correct identification.

Black Rat Snake (Elaphe obsoleta).  Right here in my home state, Shelly at Natural Missouri characterizes black rat snakes as one of the most commonly encountered snakes in Missouri.  Large snakes reaching up to 6 feet in length, they often end up in basements and cellars in the fall in search of a place to spend the winter – just in time for Halloween!  These snakes are often needlessly killed because of their resemblance to the venomous cottonmouth or water moccasin that they superficially resemble.  However, Shelly has the same nonaggression treaty with these snakes that Sally has with rattlesnakes (although her husband is not quite so sympathetic). 

-Order CROCODILIA (Crocodilians)

American Alligator (Alligator mississippiensis).  David at Living Alongside Wildlife also contributed two pieces on North America’s largest reptile.  In his post Gatorzilla, he examines commonly e-mailed pictures and text about so-called “giant” alligators, debunking myths about 25 foot long monsters, clarifying the identity of misidentified Nile crocodiles, and exposing cases of camera trickery.  In his post Mommy Dearest, he recounts his nervewracking experience when he stumbled upon an alligator nest while knee deep in a south Georgia swamp at night.  Worse, the babies had hatched!  Read the post to see if David got out of there with both of his legs.

GENERAL HERPETOLOGY

Sometimes simply the act of looking for herps is as enjoyable as the herps that are found.  However, it has been a tough January for Bernard at Philly Herping.  A particularly cold snap in the first half of what is already the coldest month of the year made herping at his favorite cemetary a lesson in futility.   I hope you notice the irony – cemetary?, no sign of life?, cold-bloodedness (okay, okay – ectothermic)?

I hope you’ve enjoyed this issue of House of Herps.  The February issue moves over to xenogere, where Jason’s considerable carnival hosting talents are sure to be on full display.  Submit your slimy, scaley, cold-blooded contributions by Febrary 15, and look for the issue to appear by February 18.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010

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North America’s smallest rattlesnake

Despite tramping through the brush with great frequency during most of my life, I haven’t really seen that many noteworthy reptiles.  I don’t know whether its because I’ve failed to actually encounter them or whether my singleminded obsession with insects above all other things natural has instead prevented me from seeing what was right in front of me.  Regardless of the reason, all that has seemed to change during the past two seasons (strangely coincident with my decision to start carrying a camera), and I now seem to be enjoying a bit of a reptile bonanza.  Last summer I featured a super-aggressive prairie rattlesnake from a trip to the Black Hills of South Dakota and an uncooperative dusty hognosed snake from Missouri’s critically imperiled sand prairies (both first-time sightings for me).  The reptilian treats continued this year – I saw my first juvenile Osage copperhead in May to go along with the several adults that I’ve encountered, and shortly afterwards during a June trip to northwestern Oklahoma I was treated to a gorgeous male eastern collard lizard, two Texas horned lizards, and a much more cooperative western hognosed snake (the last two being first-time sightings for me).  There was another herp that I saw during that Oklahoma trip, but I did not feature it here because I had stupidly declined to strap the camera bag to my back during a quick look at a roadside habitat.  That sighting was another first-timer for me – a western pygmy rattlesnake (Sistrurus miliaris streckeri).  I’m no herp expert, so wasn’t sure what it was at the time, but I later learned that its small size and distinctive markings were quite diagnostic.

Western pygmy rattlesnake – Sistrurus miliarius streckeri

Amazingly, I encountered this same species again just a few weeks later during a visit to the White River Hills of extreme southwestern Missouri.  It was during the second of two trips to the region to search for the stunningly beautiful bumelia longhorned beetle, Plinthocoelium suaveolens plicatum (family Cerambycidae), and the weather during that day – continuous drizzle and low, threatening clouds – had not been at all conducive for finding such a sun loving beetle.  After searching an area where I knew the beetles occurred, without success, daughter Madison and I resigned that the drizzle was here to stay and decided to pass the rest of the day with some hiking at one of Missouri’s most spectacularly wild and beautiful places, Hercules Glades Wilderness.  A splendid mix of post oak savannahs and limestone glades intersperses through the oak/hickory forests in these rugged hills, creating some of Missouri’s most scenic vistas.  Near the end of the hike at the edge of one of these glades on the high point of Coy Bald, I saw this little individual coiled up underneath an eastern red-cedar (Juniperus virginiana) tree.  Unlike the terrifyingly aggressive prairie rattlesnakes I encountered in South Dakota last fall, this snake seem to be relying upon its cryptic coloration to avoid detection, rattling only after I had approached quite closely… or maybe it was only then I could actually hear the rattle, which was barely audible and sounded much like the buzz of a small katydid.

Pygmy rattlesnakes are the smallest rattlesnakes in North America, growing to around 15-25 inches long – this individual looked to be about 18-20 inches in length.  They are one of only two U.S. species in the primitive rattlesnake genus Sistrurus - the other being the larger wet prairie inhabiting massasauga (S. catenatus).  All other rattlesnakes (28 species, 13 in the U.S.) belong to the genus Crotalus (Smith et al. 2001).  Western pygmy rattlesnakes are not really a western U.S. species, but rather the westernmost subspecies of this southeastern U.S. species (with subspecies miliarius and streckeri occupying the northeastern and southeastern portions, respectively, of its range).  In Missouri, it is not nearly as common as the timber rattlesnake (Crotalus horridus), occurring only in the extreme southern Ozarks along the border with Arkansas and up into the St. Francois Mountains of the eastern Ozarks (Johnson 1997).  Although no known human deaths have ever been caused by this species, known locally as the “ground rattler,” it is nevertheless poisonous and worthy of respect.  I must admit to having been lulled a little bit by its calmness – much like the juvenile copperhead I photographed in May – and found myself tempted to approach ever closer for photographs.  The photograph below represents the closest that I was able to get before it began “striking” at me – whether these were bluff strikes intended to frighten or actual attempts to bite I do not know.  Suffice it to say that I “got the message” and ended my attempts to get even closer.  Daughter Madison watched in nervous amazement as all this was going on, and afterwards I tried to impress upon her young, virgin mind what a rare and wonderful experience we’d just had.  Perhaps I succeeded, as this was the first story she told to her head-shaking mother upon our return home the following evening!

Photo details: Canon 100mm macro lens on Canon EOS 50D, ISO 100, 1/250 sec, f/9-10, MT-24EX flash 1/2 power through diffuser caps.

REFERENCES:

Johnson, T. R. 1997. The Amphibians and Reptiles of Missouri. Missouri Department of Conservation, Jefferson City, 368 pp.

Smith, H. M., E. D. Brodie, D. M. Dennis and S. Barlowe. 2001. Reptiles of North America: A Guide to Field Identification. Golden Field Guide from St. Martin’s Press, New York, 240 pp.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2009

Western hognose snake

Another herp interlude…

Photo details: Canon 100mm macro lens on Canon EOS 50D, ISO 100, 1/250 sec, f/14, MT-24EX flash 1/4 power w/ diffuser caps.

During my visit to Salt Plains National Wildlife Refuge in northwestern Oklahoma this past June, tiger beetles were not the only wildlife subjects I encountered.  Near the edge of one of the alkaline flats along Sandpiper Trail was this hognose snake.  This is the second hognose snake that I’ve encountered in as many years, the first being a member of a rare, disjunct population of the dusty hognose snake (Heterodon nasicus gloydi) in one of southeastern Missouri’s critically imperiled sand prairie habitats.  There are two species of hognose snake in Oklahoma – eastern (H. platirhinos) and western (H. nasicus).  I presume this individual to be the western due to its strongly upturned rostral (snout), which is only moderately upturned in the eastern species, and black-checkered ventral coloration.  Surprisingly, in checking the Salt Plains reptile species list for confirmation on its identity, I noted that no confirmed sightings of either the eastern or western hognose snake have been recorded at the refuge.  I have since done my good deed to reptile science by submitting this and another photograph I took of the individual to the refuge biologist.  Ted MacRae – entomologist and discoverer of new reptile records!  Western hognose snakes are further classified into three subspecies, two of which – dusty and nominotypical – occur in Oklahoma (the third occurs in Mexico). However, the distinctions between the two U.S. subspecies are subtle¹ and not apparent in this photograph, preventing further classification.

¹ Some authors consider the dusty and western hognose snakes to be separate species, while others have regarded their differences too subtle to warrant even subspecific distinction.

Hognose snakes are famous for their well-choreographed sequence of defensive displays. Their first act is to rear up cobra-like and strike out with their mouth open while hissing (unfortunately, neither of the hognoses I’ve encountered entertained me in this manner).  If the threat continues, they then turn over and writh violently in mock agony before finally rolling over on their backs and playing dead (thanatosis).  Last year’s hognose snake didn’t do this either, insisting instead on continually trying to burrow into the loose sand.  As can be seen from the photograph above, however, playing dead is exactly what this individual did.  With the mouth agape and the tongue protruding, it’s a convincing display of lifelessness.  Amusingly though, whenever the snake was righted it immediately turned over on its back again – not such a good imitation of being dead!  Presumably the snakes predators are as bad at noticing that detail as are the snakes themselves.  As I continued to pester this individual, trying to get him to stick out his tongue further for a better photograph, he eventually started ejecting blood from the lacrymal glands and emitting musk from the cloaca – what better to emphasize a death display than blood and an offensive smell!

Western hognose snakes are classified as a species of ”least concern” on the IUCN Red List of Threatened Species and aren’t listed as a species of concern on the Oklahoma Natural Heritage Inventory database.  Nevertheless, as with many other reptiles and amphibians, populations are declining throughout much of their former range.  This is likely due to the combined effects of urbanization, reduction of habitat, predation by feral dogs and cats, and overcollection for sale to the pet trade.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2009