Juvenile Cottonmouth at Bear Lake

October 1, 2016

Sorry for the noise on this photo. The lighting wasn't so hot.

Hiking Bear Lake Trail in northern Florida, we passed through a variety of habitats from pitcher plant bogs to pine flatwoods. But taking a shallow decline into a cypress swamp, the boardwalk curved around the trunks of buttressed trees and leveled out over the thick mud and ankle-deep water. It was a cool morning and the swamp was quiet except for the distant hammering of a woodpecker in the cypress.

I was standing in the mud off the side of the boardwalk when I heard Eric calling. It sounded like he had a snake so I jumped back onto the boardwalk and jogged over dropping onto my belly, I joined Eric hanging upside down off the boardwalk. It was a juvenile cottonmouth, a little over a foot long. I had my snake tongs with me but, with small snakes, large tongs are clumsy and can be dangerous to both the handler and the snake. So I chose the naturalist's multipurpose tool: the net. One quick sweep and we had her.

Excited to get some good photos, we tromped back to some clean water and rinsed the snake off in the lake. After posing precariously with the snake in the tongs for a few photos, I took it back to the swamp and snapped some photos of my own.

As cottonmouths grow older, their patterns and colours become almost too dark to see. But this young snake still has beautiful, bold banding.

I know I post about cottonmouths at least once a year, but they are my favorite viperid. They have beautiful, sometimes subtle, patterns and have a very unique semi-aquatic ecology. Their specific epithet piscivorus literally means "fish-eater." While it is true that cottonmouths enjoy fish, they are generalist hunters who will even eat carrion. Like most venomous snakes, they have a unique array of defensive strategies from tail vibrations and mock-strikes to their namesake defense of open-mouthed threat. These snakes go to such great lengths to avoid conflict, it's hard to imagine how anyone could see them as aggressive. If you find a cottonmouth, just keep your distance and they'll keep theirs.

'Tis the Season for Cottonmouths

Agkistrodon piscivorus. Near Perdido Bay, Escambia County, Florida. October 2015. Nikon D3000.

I thought I'd look back through the years and post a few things on my blogs from Octobers gone-by. This photo was taken bright and early the morn of October 17th, 2015, at West Campus. I used to hitch rides out to West Campus, a piece of Pensacola Christian College's land out on Perdido Bay, whenever I could. It was a struggle to find someone who would take me at all and sometimes quite costly, but I had to get into the bush to maintain my sanity.
Scrolling through my old photos from October 2015, I selected this one to show you because it seems that late September and early October is the best time to see cottonmouths. I've already seen several in the last two weeks, mostly neonates (juveniles) and I haven't even been looking.
It's a nice picture simply because the snake is mouth-open, characteristic of the threat display for this species. For those of you who would like to be specific: Agkistrodon piscivorus. Escambia County, Florida. October 2015. Nikon D3000.

Getting Close to Cottonmouths

Field Notes from October 17, 2015

Agkistrodon piscivorous near Perdido Bay, Florida on October 17, 2015.

It was a cool, autumn day in the panhandle of Florida State. A red sail on the water moved up Perdido Bay with the breeze as I blinked in the sunlight from under my felt hat. An early morning to check my minnow traps at West Campus provided me with a single, small sunfish. It was a male, so I wasn't sure it would get on well with my larger specimen back home in the tank. Oh, well. I chanced it.

With the fish comfortably settled into a bucket in my passenger seat, I set out for a bit of herping around the ponds. I started at the old bridge and work along the shore, closest to Perdido Bay. My snake tongs poked in and out of the grass and I followed a small clearing into the shallow water around the edge of the pond. Autumn rain meant the ponds were swollen and I took a moment to explore the soggy grass and ephemeral pools.

I spotted a dark brown striped pattern in the water and my tongs dove into the water to recover a young adult cottonmouth.

Agkistrodon piscivorous is a semiaquatic pitviper closely related to rattlesnakes and its venom works in a similar way. Although highly cytotoxic and hemorrhagic, the venom of the cottonmouth isn't as damaging to blood cells as that of rattlesnakes. Adults pack over 1000mg of venom but it would only take 150mg to kill me. Cottonmouths kill almost one person per year and I don't intend to be a statistic. 

For ease of movement, I cautiously lifted the snake with my tongs and slid it into my snake bag. Moving into an open field near the Perdido Bay shoreline, I emptied the contents onto the mowed grass. He was grumpy. I snapped several pictures of the perturbed reptile as it spastically threw its white mouth open in a threatening defensive gesture. It made very interesting photographs and my Nikon clicked away for about 15 minutes. As the snake calmed, I was more comfortable getting a little closer for some portraiture.

Suddenly, I noticed I had an audience. Some college staff had paused from their work across the field and were staring. Because you can never be too sure how friendly people are toward snakes, I bagged the viper again and returned him to the swamp.

Agkistrodon piscivorous near Perdido Bay, Florida on October 17, 2015.

Agkistrodon piscivorous near Perdido Bay, Florida on October 17, 2015.

Agkistrodon piscivorous near Perdido Bay, Florida on October 17, 2015.

Agkistrodon piscivorous near Perdido Bay, Florida on October 17, 2015.

Agkistrodon piscivorous near Perdido Bay, Florida on October 17, 2015.

With a prayer of thanks to God for the beauty of His creation and the exhilarating experience, I meandered over to where the two men were pounding stakes and tried to start a conversation.

"How many you catch?" called one of the men as I approached.

"A few," I said, "but only one today."

"I guess you took care of that one," said one of the men. I knew what that meant.

"Actually," I said, "there's no reason to kill 'em. They usually have great dispositions and only want to avoid people."

He sneered. "Not all the snakes I've seen! They'll attack."

Only when you're trying to hack they're head off, I thought.

"I kill every one I see," he informed me indiscriminately.

"I figured." There was an awkward pause as my disapproving glare communicated the meaning of my reply. They got back to work and I shuffled off, a little disgruntled at how selfish and disregarding most people are toward wildlife.

On the other side of the pond I started seeing ground skinks.

Scincella lateralis are extremely common in Florida but not often noticed. They push headlong through the forest detritus looking for spiders and other little invertebrates to devour. Catching these can be a delicate matter. They are very small lizards and most of the ones I've found are under 7 centimeters in length. They don't even use their diminutive legs when they have to move fast.

Besides the skinks, I also spotted a curious black wasp, about 2.5 centimeters long, scurrying around in the leaflitter. I'm not sure what species of wasp it was but it seemed to be searching for spiders or insects in the cracks of the ground.

Hymenoptera near Perdido Bay, Florida on October 17, 2015.

Scincella lateralis near Perdido Bay, Florida on October 17, 2015.

A little farther along, at the far north end of the ponds, I spotted a ribbon snake (Thamnophis sauritus) slithering among the aquatic vegetation. I spent a considerable amount of time splashing around in the shallows trying to find that snake but, alas, I failed. In denial about my loss, I stood on the shore as motionless as I could staring at the water plants were I'd last seen the snake. I hoped it would reappear. Suddenly, some movement in the water to my right caught my attention. A large turtle cautiously poked its nose through the algae. For a long time, I contemplated my plant to catch the turtle. For a moment I vacillated waiting for the snake. I thought maybe I could catch both, but that would be greedy. I dropped my snake tongs and clumsily splashed through the water toward the turtle. It didn't move. It didn't even flinch. It never saw me coming. A miracle. I scooped the startled testudine out of the water and set all four of its scratching, flailing legs on the shore. Apparently, it was missing its right eye. So it really never did see me. It was a very large (about 35cm-long carapace) yellow-bellied slider (Trachemys scripta scripta).

Curiously, about four years back I had caught a snapping turtle the same way, in the same place, which was also missing an eye (the left one). Both turtles had a cataract.

After some photos, I released the turtle back into the wild and meandered back to my van.

Trachemys scripta scripta near Perdido Bay, Florida on October 17, 2015.

Trachemys scripta scripta near Perdido Bay, Florida on October 17, 2015.

Herping after Dark in the Florida Panhandle

Here's a post from someone you haven't heard recently. I've been busy--very busy. It is not unusual for me to work 14 hours in a day and 9 hours is a short one. I worked hard this week and managed to keep up with all the homework and quiz grading common in the life of a college biology teacher. At the end of the day I rolled out of work at 4:00pm. Nine hours. After a quick dinner and an episode of John Acorn's Nature Nut show I grabbed my Nikon and a minnow trap and danced out the door.
Sometimes I have to schedule my moments of enjoyment just as religiously as my work and education. I'd been planning a trip out to set my minnow trap for a couple weeks and a Friday night seemed like a good time to me. However, my graduate class was hanging over my head as I pulled from the campus and I'm hoping I don't regret my choice of activity for the night. Good grades are encouraging but it's no excuse to procrastinate.
I had hoped to set a minnow trap at Tarkiln Bayou but that is a state park and I imagine it would be less than legal to remove any fish or wildlife from the park. However, I couldn't think of anywhere else to go. Whenever I have questions about the local wildlife I always find my way to Mr. Micah Bowman's office. A tall, lanky man with relaxed enthusiasm for zoology, Mr. Bowman spent his childhood in the panhandle and is far more adept at finding cool critters than I could ever hope to be. I asked my fellow faculty member if there were any places he could recommend for a minnow trap. His answer, always nonchalant, was so obvious I was embarrassed. West Campus was college property and fishing was encouraged.

I nailed these photos of a grass pickerel (Esox americanus) at Tarkiln Bayou last year (2014) near the end of November. I have been hoping to get a couple for my 120 gallon aquarium back home.

Yes, they are cannibals. My aquarium has three turtles at the present so trying to put some fish in there might be a bad idea. Sunfish would be nice but I find the predatory pickerel completely fascinating. I pulled the trap from the back of my minivan and made the short jaunt to the slough.
As I approached the rickety bridge over the algae-choked waters I spotted a black disk lying in the grass. It was just passed 7pm and the battery was low on my headlamp. I had to get close to see that it was a small cottonmouth snake (Agkistrodon piscivorus). Cottonmouths have a highly hemolytic venom that causes blood cells to rupture and tissues to break down, practically rotting off. However, I was delighted. In my excitement I ran back to my van to grab my ever-handy snake tongs and returned to where I'd dropped my trap before long. The snake was still there and I caught the snake without too much of a fuss. One strike and some degree of warning. It amazes me how placid these potentially lethal snakes are. This one seemed to have an especially calm disposition. The characteristic wide-open mouth display is an obvious message to threats. I carried the snake to the beach and took a few photos on the sand. Delightful.

Pumped with herpetological enthusiasm, I released the snake and started searching for more reptiles and amphibians with my headlamp. A southern toad (Bufo terrestris) hopped out of my way and soon I was running around the grass giggling like a four year old catching frogs.

Rana sphenocephala, the leopard frog. Loads of fun chasing these guys through the grass and catching them.

In the end I threw my trap over the bridge and watched it sink to the bottom. I tied the knot and headed back to my van. It was a good time and I don't regret it yet.

Return to Blackwater River State Park

Here is the sort of cypress swamp that I was wading through earlier this spring. Only the weather wasn't as nice.

It takes a sharp eye to make out a turtle hatchling like this,
so far from the water. Not expected. Very surprising. Even
more surprising that I spotted it at all.

As I mentioned in my previous post, my favourite spots at West Campus, my usual weekend destination, was destroyed by a mob of excavators and bobcats. Thus, I started making regular trips out to Blackwater River State Park. When I got back to the park this second time, the weather was perfect. Insects buzzed and people played; birds bounced around the branches of magnolia and pine. After a long hike, we even cooled off in the river a little bit (though it was still quite cold). Sliders of all sizes were out basking on logs and a menagerie of other cold-blooded creatures where spotted and captured. Here are a few of the highlights.
When stalking through the forests, it often takes me a few minutes to "tune in," if you will. I'm usually not at optimum levels until after at least an hour. Then I start seeing things that I would normally never have noticed. A leaf moves on the ground on a windy day and turning it reveals a ground skink. The rustling grass at my feat rustles in a way that disturbs the music and I know someone else is down there. A rodent or snake, perhaps. It's almost sixth-sensish. My peripheral vision becomes exceptionally clear as well. On this hike, my eyes scan back and forth across the cypress swamp, focussing in on logs, stumps or any other protrusion from the waters surface. Ripples reveal a fish turning just under the surface. A soft point reveals the nose of slider spying on me from the rushes. As my field of vision moves toward a slanted trunk, my eyes clamp onto a small lump a couple feet from the water. It's too far away for my eyes to decide exactly what it is, but the lens of my camera does better. It's a juvenile cooter.
Meanwhile, my friend Dakota has begun his own visual search of the pond. He said something, but I was clicking away on my shudder and missed it. Then I caught a key word: snake. "Water snake," he said. I'd never caught one of those (though I've come awful close) and wanted to really bad. My heart skipped a beat as I aimed my zoom lens at the bush he was pointing at. "That's not a water snake," I said, just a little disappointed, "I think it's a cottonmouth." It was after all. That being the case, I wouldn't going to disturb his quiet ambush position over the pond. I've caught lots of cottonmouths before.

This young cottonmouth snake is hiding in a snag above a pond. I'd nickname Dakota "Eagle-eyes" if the title didn't belong to someone else I hunt snakes with already. It's a wonder he spied it. Even after he pointed it out to me I could hardly make it out.

Here is the fence lizard before I tried
catching her. Gorgeous, eh?

Notice the pale blue spot on the
throat characteristic of this genera.

Besides cotton mouths and cooters, Dakota also spotted a fence lizard. From his initial call, it took quite time before I caught the little rascal. My brother and I were crawling and scrambling up and down the river bank grabbing at the frightened little lizard. When I finally had it in hand, both of our hearts were racing. I took as many pictures as I liked to and passed it to some of my friends so they could feel her little beating heart. People find it easier to love something that they can touch and hold. She was released into the shade of the tree that I had caught her under. Always release an animal right where you found it.
I enjoy breaking from the main group and poking around an area alone for a while. In one of my frequent diversions, I spotted a large frog under the board walk. He was sitting in the shade on the bank in a shallow depression. He seemed aware of my presence but had a secret hope that I hadn't noticed him. I approached carefully and was able to successfully swing my net overtop of the ranid and pull him into the open. Once in hand, I called the others over and had my friend Jonathan take some photos of me with my catch. At the time I thought it must be a bullfrog but, after getting back to my dorm room I decided it must be a river frog instead. The mottled groin (area just in front of the leg on the side of a frog) seemed characteristic.

My Favorite Snake

Ready for action, this cottonmouth eyes me warily through my lens.

I spend about eight months of the year in the panhandle of Florida. My time is usually occupied with other things but, about once a week, I manage to get out and hike through the scrub or sail the coast. The coast is a place to see terns, gulls, dolphins, pelicans, and ospreys. The scrub, on the other hand, is perfect for creatures of the coldblooded kind, especially snakes. In dryer areas, the racer is the predominant snake species. Moving into the bogs and swamps, however, I find another snake of stark difference. Both the racers and my swamp-dweller are beautifully patterned as juveniles and both turn black as they age. That's where the similarity ends. Racers are fast. Really fast. I've only ever caught two of them before but I've seen about half a dozen. In contrast, my mystery snake is slow and fat-bodied. I've caught all but two of the many that I've encountered. Racers can be a little grumpy when caught, biting when given the chance. My most commonly encountered snake tends to be passive. But when they do bite, it can be fatal. Cottonmouths (or water moccasins) are one of the more venomous of North America's poisonous snakes. While they have a reputation of being aggressive, my experience indicates the contrary. The only cottonmouth that ever actually struck at me had every right to give me a considerable amount of discomfort, because I'd pinched his skin in my tongs accidentally.

This hefty five-footer was the first cottonmouth I've ever clapped eyes on.

This was the first cottonmouth snake I actually caught.
Just a pretty, little immature bloke.

I can still recall my first encounter with a cottonmouth. I had been looking for them, and I hadn't got my tongs yet. I was expecting a short, fat snake so when I saw a five foot monster bobbing across the slough I first mistook it for a gator. That prospect made me extremely excited, but I wasn't disappointed any when I looked again and identified it as a large snake. I marked the place it was headed for on the other shore and ran around with my Nikon to get some good shots and maybe catch it with my net. When I got there, she was waiting for me. She recoiled and vibrated her tail in anticipation of a conflict. For a few seconds I just stood there mesmerized. I'd never seen anything so impressive in all my life. Her eyes had an expression of intelligence and cunning as they glared out of the dark stripes through her eyes. I felt I had been outwitted already. She was in complete control of the situation, it seemed. Then, with a jerk of her body, she moved swiftly into a half-submerged snag. I have the utmost respect for cottonmouth snakes.

Juvenile cottonmouths are stunningly beautiful.

Cottonmouths are very placid snakes. They give plenty
of warning before biting.

Since then, I've caught about half a dozen cottonmouths between those Saturdays in the scrub. Their response is always the same. First, the recoil into an S-shaped pose. From this position, they can react appropriately to a threat. If I push in closer, the snake may vibrate its tail excitedly before trying to move away. Cottonmouths only ever want to move away. They never try to initiate a confrontation. If grabbed, it will quickly reform into an S-shape and, if it's a particularly jittery individual, it will open its mouth and display its white gums (the feature which gives it its name). If I continue to irritate it with my prodding (as I try for a photogenic pose) the snake will put an end to that by simply resuming its plan of retreat. All the cottonmouths I've ever met have wonderful dispositions.

With cotton mouth opened wide, this snake effectively says, "Back off!
I don't want to bite, but if you hurt me, I am fully capable!"

All those tails of aggressive cottonmouths just aren't credible. I've heard stories of swarms of cottonmouths emerging form snags on unfortunate swimmers, but as Alen Tennant in A Field Guide to Snakes of Florida testified, this is not a habit of the cannibalistic cottonmouth. Rather, those unfortunate swimmers are likely dealing with the much more sociable watersnake. And, in contrast to the cottonmouth, non-venoumous watersnakes bite readily.

There are few creatures as beautifully designed as the cottonmouth! When the Bible talks about the child putting his hand in the vipers hole on the new earth (Isaiah 11:8), that's going to be me. We all have something to look forward to!