Don't Tread on Me - The Cottonmouth

Americans drive a lot. Every year we build new roads and expand old ones. Wildlife is always in danger and the need for rescue is constant. Where the rubber meets the road, there is often a critter in between.

I make no judgments when a rescue is required. My safety is the number one priority. Getting the animal to safety is number two regardless of the species. There are times when my safety involves more than dodging traffic. The wildlife that is injured, stranded, trapped, etc. usually does not understand your intentions and can make the situation more difficult. Such was the case when a Cottonmouth (Agkistrodon piscivorus) made the proverbial “crossing of the road”.

Turtles are easy. Pick them up by the shell in front of each rear leg, carry them in the direction they were heading and place them far off the road. (Snapping Turtles and Softshell Turtles require a gentle grab by the tail and with arm fully extended away from your body, to bring them to safety).

When it comes to a venomous reptile, the plan changes. As I approach the snake in the road, it coils in defense as Cottonmouths do. It’s not helping. The approaching traffic spots me waving them into the other lane and had I not stood in the road they would have surely run the snake over. A car stops and asks if I need help. I explain I’m trying to shoo the snake off the road. Thoughtfully and with a twang reminiscent of a character from Deliverance, the driver points out that it’s a “ven-mus snake and it’ll bite cha!” He drives around.

The snake heads east, changes its mind and heads west. I carefully move to the opposite lane and direct more traffic around. A driver shakes his head. The snake slides off the pavement and into the grass, safe for now.

Certainly encounters with venomous snakes require caution, but out on the roads there is no question who is the more dangerous species.

Wading Into Controversy - The Great White Heron

It would be easy for the casual observer to dismiss a tall white wading bird in Florida as a Great Egret (Ardea alba-top photo). The long, black-legged wader has a slim frame, thin beak and is found in a variety of shallow wetlands around the state. But in the fringes of southern Florida, every all-white wading bird requires a second look. It might be a Great Blue Heron (Ardea herodia-bottom left).

I took a walk in the 10,000 Islands National Wildlife Refuge recently. Located just east of Naples and north of the Florida Keys, the refuge is part of the second largest mangrove forest in the world. On this sweltering March morning, a volunteer welcomes me and suggests I may not see much on the boardwalk since most of the water has dried up. I step on the path, round the corner and standing before me is a Great White Heron (bottom right), a rare color morph of the Great Blue Heron. This all white heron is larger than the Great Egret, has a heavier bill and sports light colored or yellowish legs.

The Great White Heron population is estimated to be around one thousand and most of them live on and around the Florida Keys and mangrove islands. The debate that I will not settle for you has been their taxonomic classification. For years they were considered a distinct species (Ardea occidentalis), geographically isolated from the Great Blue Herons of the mainland. They have also been considered a subspecies with the ability to interbreed with Great Blue Herons but do not do so naturally due to geography. Or do they?

Great White Herons do migrate up to the southern peninsula of Florida but mainland Great Blue Herons rarely migrate down to the keys. The Great Blue Herons and Great White Herons that live in the keys are larger than their relatives to the north. When they do form mating pairs it is often with a color morph similar to their own.

The Great White Heron probably does not merit species status. It could very well deserve a subspecies distinction. I’ll leave that to the taxonomists, but it certainly warrants a second look.