Archives of The Cold Blooded News

The Newsletter of the Colorado Herpetological Society

Volume 29, Number 8;   August, 2002

Ticks

by Peter T. Burch

Counting steps is done by a man with something on his mind, and I was wondering if losing count of the one meant as much for the other when the perfect chaos of grassy pathways was filled by the stern and tenuous order of snake. Since my notion of what seems good and proper in life includes the premise that any day with a wild snake in it is a good day, I promptly cashed out my investment in the morning for a slow, even stretch on the earth this elongation of sensitivity found so comfortable.

Now to one familiar with the habits and company of Agkistrodon and Crotalus, a good healthy garter snake might be often easily dismissed, but happily, I was just wise enough to know value when I saw it.

This guy was big for a garter, even in the south. Strong, heavy and brilliant, he shined through his few stripes with the power and dignity that spoke of years of real effort, appetite, and the ability to vanish in motion.

But motion was not in his plan this morning as I lay slowly down before him. His head, scaled and regal as any serpent of legend, was a good five inches off the dirt, held in that ready, wary grace that belongs only to a snake. But so still, so quiet that I knew his surprise or concern at my enormous approach was evenly matched by his belief in the power of camouflaged invisibility.

So we lay there for a time, soaking up the Arkansas morning and what we saw, each in his own way, calm enough I suppose, but never far from action. Mine arrived when I noticed the distended behind of a small tick showing between the milk white scales of his upturned chin. My fingers sought for and found a bit of twig and, with the painful care this sort of challenge demands, I slowly approached into his narrow shadow.

I expected that contact by the small stiff end of my twig would send him into that instant sliding turn of escape, but he held steady as I pressed against the pest he carried there. A bit more effort and a determined use loosened the tick and, to my great surprise, this wild snake eased his head back and up further and spread his jaws to stretch open the gular fold. A row of smaller ticks was exposed and, being a fast learner and doubting my eyes and luck, I proceeded to gently use the twig on each and every one in turn. The snake held firm. How much time passed, I have no idea; minutes or hours, no matter.

What I know is that this reptile accepted relief. I know that he might have done his own rubbing elsewhere, or simply tolerated those ticks 'till his next shed, but he allowed me the honor of a real encounter which probably did more for me than him.

It seemed so, even as I scratched at my own chiggers for days after.