The impression I got multiple times is, “This looks like fall.”  The yellows and browns of many of the leaves looked more like Texas in November.  Roadside vegetation that obscures the view of the surrounding fields had mostly withered and blown away, revealing yellow-brown grassland and occasional dark green junipers.

The second creek crossing was utterly dry on the upstream side.  A small patch of mud was all that remained on the downstream side, with honeybees buzzing around and landing to gather a little moisture.  The life of this creek must be burrowed and dug in as deeply as they can go, water snakes and frogs and turtles trying to avoid overheating and dessicating.  When the rains come, whenever that will be, the survivors will come out and resume the lives I’ve witnessed in better times.

sunset on the prairie, Parker County

Further on up the road, a Texas brown tarantula made its way across the road.  In a couple of places, a cottontail rabbit turned and left the roadside as I passed.  The sun set in a flare of orange, and after dark a deer or two wandered to the edge of the road.  The massasauga rattlesnakes that we occasionally see on night drives here were nowhere to be seen.  Neither were the Texas rat snakes or any other reptiles.  I hope to see some real rain this fall, the kind that lingers and soaks and at least partially re-fills the creeks.  Then we can begin to see just what sort of toll this blistering dry summer has taken on the reptiles, amphibians, and other wildlife of the north Texas grasslands and prairies.

Ornate box turtle

Today the ground within their approximately eight-foot square patch was dry and cracking, and the large, flat water dish had gone dry.  I filled the dish and hooked up the buried sprinkler to gently water the area.  Turtles immediately began to emerge from hiding, including the female ornate box turtle whose assertive and competitive nature is well-known to us.  She always races to see what we’ve got, and will walk onto a pile of food to keep others from getting to it.  A young male three-toed box turtle we have raised from a baby scrambled out of hiding to see what was going on.  Over the years, his head and forelegs have gone from muddy brown to a face that is mottled with white, orange, and black, and yellow scales on his legs.  he has a dark caramel-colored shell with indistinct dashes of yellow. Like the others, he follows us around to see what treats we may have.  As he pulls up on a piece of wood and cranes his neck to look at us, it is hard not to get anthropomorphic.

The treats today are chopped turnip greens and zucchini, to which they respond with an enthusiasm I could never have for turnip greens.  A three-year-old youngster emerges from the shelter of jumbled wood and looks with eager curiosity to see what’s happening.  He marches over to join the group, munching on greens and squash and undeterred by the bites taken by a large male just millimeters from his head.

After this, they begin walking the perimeter around the low wall that keeps them from wandering off.  They know that rain (or watering from the hose) will bring small invertebrates to the surface, a welcome, protein-filled treat to add to the salad. Turtle heads extend and probe into the hidden places, looking closely as if nearsighted to find isopods (“pill bugs”) or spiders.

Three-toed box turtle

When I think about watching these turtles and compare it with the trips to the Big Bend, or Hill Country, or the Big Thicket, it seems like the experiences are cut from the same cloth.  In its small way, sitting and watching box turtles foraging for food in dappled sunlight is similar to watching a lizard in the forest in the Big Thicket.  Here in the back yard, we get to peek into their little microcosm of habitat as the turtles behave as naturally as could be expected, minus the part about chasing us down in hopes of food.

I won’t skip any trips to spectacular natural places in favor of sitting in the back yard, but when there are no field trips on the horizon, it’s nice that there are some very satisfying experiences with nature right here at home.

An additional note: all our box turtles were brought to us as rescues – turtles found in the street or yard where they cannot stay and no other place to go.  If taken somewhere and released, research says they often do not settle in to the new place as “home.”  Box turtles are in trouble in the wild and we never take them out of natural habitat.  We hope you won’t, either.

Clint and I took a walk on April 9 at the Fort Worth Nature Center and Refuge with some folks who wanted to see herps.  Billed as a “herp walk,” we led several adults and their young children in a stroll around the marsh boardwalk area.  It has been very dry this winter and spring, so staying near the water seemed like the best bet.

At the shaded part of the boardwalk, we were treated to several red-eared sliders cruising around in the shallow water.  There may have been three or four turtles, maybe more, and each time one came up for a breath, kids and adults pointed them out with some excitement.  At least one turtle was an old melanistic male, dark and practically patternless.

We looked for green treefrogs among the tall green reeds surrounding the boardwalk as we walked back.  These bright green little frogs cling to leaves and stems, sleeping through daylight hours.  As the sun sets in the spring, there are great choruses of calling males competing to attract females.  Inflating the vocal sacs under their chins, they repeatedly call, “waank-waank-waank.”  On our walk, it was too early in the day to expect to hear them.  In fact, we only saw one, a little juvenile hunkered down on a stem.  People clicked off photos as kids peered over the railing to see the pretty little lump of lime green.

Next, we walked along the shore pointing out likely hiding spots for five-lined skinks, and walked to the water where we have previously seen ribbon snakes, water snakes, and cricket frogs.  We did not find these, but did surprise a couple of crayfish sheltered under a fallen log right at the edge of the water.  Clint and I talked about the crayfish snakes that are able to eat freshly-molted crayfish, and that the only difference between them and us is that we prefer ours boiled in Cajun spices!

A couple of families joined us for the beginning of a walk through the bottomland forest.  The day was warm and sunny, and we were in high hopes of spotting more species.  However, young children can only stay with it for so long before getting tired.  Clint, Amber, and I soon found ourselves on our own.  And wouldn’t you know it, within a few minutes Clint spotted a beautiful five-lined skink on one of the trees.  We took a photo and left her to hunt insects and bask in the sun.  I hope the participants of the next herp walk can get a look at her!

Five-lined skink

Anyway, James likes snakes but does not have a lot of experience with them in the field.  As we were coming back toward the point where we could climb out of the creek bed and make our way to the truck, we noticed a sizeable snake entering the water about sixty feet or so downstream.  I motioned for him to stop and said we might get close enough for a good look.  As it turns out, this snake began swimming upstream in our direction, and so we could stand still and let it get closer.  As it did so, I wondered at the fact that it was swimming at the surface.  Water snakes tend to swim under the surface.  Cottonmouths often swim on the surface, but there are no cottonmouths on this creek.  What species of snake was this?  This snake kept getting closer and closer, and I began to be surprised that it did not move to the banks and conceal itself.

Finally, the snake began to pass to the side of us, and we could see that it was a big one, perhaps five feet or so long, with a yellowish background color and dark, angular blotches down the back.

“Texas ratsnake” I said to James as I waded through the thigh-deep water to intercept the snake.  As I reached out and lifted its midsection out of the water, it did exactly what I expected and turned to try to bite me.  These are harmless snakes but the bites leave scratches, and I was not sure whether I wanted to see the snake up close badly enough to give up a little blood for it.  I dropped it, and the snake disappeared under the water, reappeared, and then was obscured by the silt we had stirred up.  However, what was clear was that it was circling back around, and heading straight for James.  At this point he said something to the effect that he was not entirely happy that it was headed for him.  Here was an unfamiliar large snake that had just lunged at me, and now it was coming for him. As I watched for the snake to reappear, I explained that it was not attacking him.

Sometimes, in a panicked attempt to get away, a snake will head in a direction that takes it straight toward trouble.  I have had this happen before with a venomous snake or two, and when you step out of the way the snake continues on past.  The last thing it wants to do (venomous or not) is to attack something big and threatening – it’s just not great at navigating under stress.

At that moment the snake reappeared, and I pulled it up again, this time getting it to calm just enough that we could look it over without it thrashing or striking.  It was a nice big Texas ratsnake, more light-colored than many that I have seen, with a big dark gray head and wide-open jaws.  Of course, if I had let it swim by it never would have done any of this.  Texas ratsnakes are bad-tempered only when picked up or threatened; if left alone they are as inoffensive as butterflies.

When I released it again, it still headed back toward us, and perhaps we were in the way of where it wanted to go.  It stopped in the water and if it could have glared at us it would have, as we got another look at it.  Finally, I lifted it out of the water again and carried it ten feet or so further upstream to some shelter along the bank where it could rest and regain its composure before continuing on with whatever it was doing.

It had been a great encounter with a large, handsome snake that is typically found up in trees or on the woodland floor.  Why it decided to go for a swim that day, we’ll never know, but we were glad for the chance to get acquainted!