COLUMBUS DISPATCH (Ohio) 10 November 13 Don’t kill that snake; it might help you out (Dave Golowenski)
So great is their anxiety that many people within reach of a garden hoe choose to interrupt the chopping of weeds to chop up snakes.
Why serpent fear exists, given that few snakes pose any manner of threat and virtually all are beneficial, raises questions.
Some observers suggest human antipathy toward snakes can be traced to a garden where a smooth-talking serpent coerced the first lady and her co-dependent other into perfidy. Snakes, at least of the reptile denomination, haven’t been as persuasive since.
That tale was written some 3,000 years ago. Snake mythology squirms much further into antiquity and slithers through the rituals and symbols of numerous civilizations and religions, including a few in the wilds of Appalachia, where poisonous vipers are manhandled inside churches to demonstrate the power of faith.
Also in Appalachia, where the last strongholds of timber rattlers remain — though only to a vestigial extent in Ohio — ordinary snake encounters too often end up with a dead snake. This is, perhaps, nature’s way of balancing the equation. Still, a lot more snakes than fevered believers have been killed.
The Buckeye State snake-encounter season is all but over, at least in the wild. Being cold-blooded, snakes head for underground lairs where they can ride out the winter. What a snake feels when it is immobile and frigid probably isn’t fear.
But only a few weeks ago, snakes still were scaring a few locals.
“Caught this in my cabin,” wrote Greg in an email with a couple of intriguing photographs attached. “Hoping you can tell me this is not a copperhead?”
Hoping to prove the reader’s faith was not misplaced, the nonexpert sought the wisdom of Google before landing on an Ohio Division of Wildlife Web page describing the state’s snakes. The photographs sent by Greg matched those of the eastern milk snake, described in part as follows:
“The milk snake is a true constrictor. It usually throws several loops of its muscular body around its prey. These coils do not crush, but merely exert enough pressure to prevent breathing. The victim soon suffocates and is then swallowed whole. … Milk snakes feed primarily upon mice and other small rodents, as well as smaller snakes. They should be considered an asset, worthy of protection on anyone's property.”
Further, under the heading of Habits and Habitats, the website suggested that eastern milk snakes are “commonly encountered throughout Ohio in a variety of habitats … even within cities, where they occasionally enter buildings in search of mice. … When first encountered, the milk snake either remains motionless or attempts to crawl away. If thoroughly pestered, it may vibrate the tip of its tail rapidly and strike repeatedly. However, the teeth can barely puncture the skin.”
Told by the nonexpert that what he encountered most likely was a harmless, helpful milk snake, Greg responded, “How sure are you? LOL. I’m sort of nervous as it was in our house!”
Rest assured, the nonexpert was not at all nervous about a snake found inside Greg’s house.
Greg’s question was followed in quick time by another, this one from Terry, 64, of Westerville:
“At about 9 a.m., I noticed a ‘flattened-out’ garter snake in my mulch bed about 10 feet from the road. I mean FLAT from head to tip of tail. I was curious how this snake got run over, flattened out, and crawled to where he was lying. I went to pick him up by the tail to remove him so my dog would not fool around with it. I grabbed him/her by the tail and about 2 inches of the tail (a 12-inch snake) came to life and got ‘round’ again. I got a stick and slipped it under the middle of the snake and lifted it off the ground. In about 15 seconds the snake fully got ‘round' again, including head, and slipped off the stick and went under the bushes. It was like something from a sci-fi movie.”
The nonexpert passed on the odd report to Ohio snake expert Doug Wynn, whose surprising answer follows:
“I have seen this behavior frequently in garter snakes. It is no doubt a defensive behavior. Probably makes them harder to grab if you are a hawk or owl. It might also intimidate predators (and people).”
Despite the wonder and worth of snakes, some people who encounter them will always choose first to find the nearest hoe.
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