Eastern (Albino) Corn Snake

A couple days ago, as I was shopping at my favorite (privately owned) pet store, the woman at the store, who seems to know how interested in animals I am, asked me if I wanted to adopt a corn snake. An albino corn snake at that! I said I'd think about, with not much conviction, after she told me that they eat frozen (thawed) pinkies twice a week. The next day I had talked myself into it, and Cornelius the Eastern Albino Corn Snake became an official member of the Furth Home Zoo.
Cornelius is freindly, curious, and even tempered snake, and he will stay pretty small all his life. Although snakes pretty much keep growing as long as they live, the life expectancey of a corn snake is, give or take, five to seven years. Corn snakes in general are native to the eastern part of the U.S. I believe there are corn snakes all over the world, but the particular breed I have (not albinos, of course; albinos are rare comodities that apear often in the pet world, but almost never in nature) can be found just about anywhere where there are rodents. Collors vary at an astonishing rate, from corn snake to corn snake. In the wild, they have a standard collor patern, but breeders have breed the most beautiful colors you could imagine. They say, if you let a corn snake go in the East (not in a city, obviously!) it could live happily on rodents and insects. (But you're NEVER supposed to let a pet animal go!!)

I think I should now clear something with you all, before you all go off an buy a pretty corn snake. Corn snakes DO NOT eat corn! Why are they called CORN snakes? Because they eat the rodents that eat that corn that's stored in the barn that Jack built.
"There's so many places to go on a wire shelf! It's hard not to get tangled!"


Cornelius is friendly, curious and even tempered. He LOVES to be handled! His favorite thing to do is climb up your arm and find a cozy dark, and warm spot, which is usually under your arm, and that REALLY tickles!

The Answer

Upon going back to the track this morning, and having another look at the nest, which had been played with by something, I came to the conclusion that it was not a bird's nest at all! Ah! I am learning, don't worry! I don't think I'll ever think a bird says "Scree!" and that a bird builds a nest like that of a field mouse! The reason I could come to this conclusion, is, because, whatever had played with it the previous night had left a spot exposed. It didn't appear to do much damage, to the babies, I mean. Four pinkies, as baby mice are called, lay fidgeting and stretching and sleeping, and doing whatever baby mice do. They were about an inch in lenth and about as fat as a medium sized carrot. They had no fur and thier eyes were not even open yet. They were just pink little babies in a nest! The marsupial mamma was nowhere to be seen, and the nest was in worse shape this time than it had been before. I fear these little critters won't make it to be soft furry brown things you can sometimes see in tall grasses in sunny fields.

Abanondoned Nest

The Other day, while walking around in a small field where grass had just been mowed, I saw a ball of grass that looked sort of like a nest. I picked it up, and decided it was just a ball of grass, so I let it roll out of my hands onto the grass nearby. Just as I did so, I hear "Scree!" from inside the ball! I turned right around and picked it up again, and for the next five minutes, I tried to find an opening to the nest. Where one might have been, there was a sort of second chamber to keep rain out, I guess. Anyway, I was not able to see what was inside the nest without distroying it, so I simply left it. But before I walked away, I put the ball nest to my ear, and could hear the faint "Scree!" noise baby birds make. In between feeble cries from the young bird, I could hear the pipping of one in an egg. And tiny peeps from within it. I felt so sorry for the little birds, for I knew the chances of there mom comming to feed them in their displaced location was slim.

The nest, all made out of the same grasses that had been mowed not long ago, was not totally round. At the top, there was a small entrance way, but it was not dirrect, so I couldn't see anything. Behind the hole was a tuft of grasses that might have held it up somewhere, before the nest was misplaced. Part of the reason why I can't identify the nest, try as I might, is because I don't know weather it was on the ground or hanging! Does anybody have any ideas? I thought of Baltimore oriole, but in all the pictures, the entrance holes were bold. In this nest, I couldn't find one for a while, and even when I though I did, I still had my doubts. I have also ruled out field mouse, because field mice don't pip eggs...although...they can chew on nuts and seeds.....oh dear....I'm am stuck! Please, does anybody have any ideas?

Tadpole Aquarium

Last Thursday, or so, the woman at the petstore I frequent, Aardvark Pet Supplies, found tadpoles in her pool, which she hadn't opened in several years. She put them in a bucket, and brought them to her store to see if anyone wanted them. It just so happened that I went in there to get some crickets for my frogs and Anoles, and the second she saw me, she said, "Would you like some tadpoles." This year, much to my disapointment, I have not been able to find my own tadpoles. I am very greatful for these tadpoles, and very excited. I even bought a new aquarium just for the tadpoles. I'll post an update just a soon as I find out what types of frogs they will be. There is one froglet in the bunch, (a froglet is between a tadpole and a frog, has legs and arms, but still posses tail and prefers to feed and swim in water, but can crawl out of the water from time to time) which appears to be a tree frog. He (or she) is very hard to spot, and sometimes I think it's gotten out of the tank somehow. But then it moves, and I see I've been looking at it the whole time! Cammo, that's what frogs specialize in....well...most of the time anyway!
It's rather difficult to see the tadpoles, but I'd say there are between 15 and 20 in there, along with some diving beetles, a water boatman, and some algae.

Eastern Milk Snake

Once a week, my family and some friends go to a nature reserve, called Westmorland Sanctuary, to have a nature class. This week's nature class was on bird banding. Although we have attended this class countless times, we always have fun. This time, though, we helped catch the birds in the net. With four birds in separate bird bags, we hiked back up to the place where we were going to band them. On the way, the boys found a milk snake under a piece of tin roofing set there for that purpose (among others). Our teacher picked the snake up. As one might imagine, the snake began every defense mechanism it possessed. First, it pooed, and sprayed it everywhere by flicking it's body and tail. In a predator vs. prey situation, this would result in foul tasting poo in the animal's mouth and eyes, and hopefully it would release it's prey. Another mechanism, which our particular snake also displayed, was rattling it's tail, much like a rattle snake, just on a far smaller scale. Finally, when the snake was empty, and was tired of rattling, it realized that it had the chance of escape, since we weren't trying to hurt it. Anyone who wanted to hold it, could. Our teacher then told us a little about milk snakes. First, he reminded us that the milk snake, although closely resembling the venomous Northern Copperhead, was not in anyway harmful, except for a bite that felt like sand paper to human skin. And yes, the snake did try to bite everyone who held it. Though somewhat disconserting at first, both the snake and we warmed up to eachother and holding got much easier. The snake was less squirmy in people whose hands were warm than in those that were cooler. Next, we learned that the milk snake is named because, way back when, farmers thought that it milked their cows. This wives tale is completely untrue; the snake eats only mice, small rodents, eggs and will sometimes use constriction to kill larger prey.

The milk snake lives in woods, meadows, river bottoms, farms and cities, and may be found all over the eastern U.S. These snakes were hated by farmers when they were beleived to milk cows; however, now they are appreciated by farmers and most everybody else, because of their active rodent eating habits.

Here is a picture:

A Walk in the Woods

Some time ago, while at a freinds house, who had 200 acres of woods behind their house, I decided to go birding while everyone else swam. Somewhere in there, I could hear a Baltimore Oriole. (This was, by the way, the very first time I had said, "I can hear so and so bird in there, let me go find it." and be correct with my guess as to which bird it was.) With my camera and my net, I set off for the beginging of the woods, where the only swarm of tiny bighting insects on the whole property buzzed. I broke through them, with quite alot of swatting, and headed for a hedge of thorn brush. This took some time, for, trying to tackle such a passive enemy is not as easy as it may seem. If the huge thorns weren't tearing me up, they were jammed in the rubber of my sneaker, tripping me up and forcing me to grab at the thorny branches. But the oriole pushed me on. Now the song was so close, not so high, and a little ahead of me. I stood still right beyond the thorns, and squinted in the glare of sunlight that was cast on me from a break in the leafage up high. (Here it would have been really nice to have Monica with me, to spot the bird out with her nifty birding binocs!) Suddenly the oriole flew from the foliage above, down to a bush near me. I got a good glimse of it, and even a picture as it flew back up to the branches. Since it was so small, and far away, I could not get great pictures of it, so I will not display any of my photos, except for one when it's flying. But a good photo wasn't on my mind at that moment; it was the rightness of my guess, that made me happy!

For the hour or so that I wandered about in the wood, I could still hear the oriole. I watched it from time to time, when I could see it, but, for the most part, now, I was trying to figure out another puzzle. I heard a strange song I had never heard before. (Monica, if you are laughing when you hear the rest of this, I won't be surprised!) On the way to find the owner of the strange song, I found alot of annoying house wrens and sparrows, who drowned out the song I was trying to hear. The "strange" bird took me all over the place. I could see the branches move, and I could see that it was a greyish bird, but is was so hard to see exactly what it was. Then, suddenly, it came into full view and I almost cried out in humiliation! Now I was glad that no one was with me, because, boy would I have been embaraced! I was a catbird! You can only immagine my frustration.

Taking a quick photo of a tiger moth catterpillar (photo bellow), I hurried deeper into the forest, lest somebody in the yard see me, and come follow. I had an insecent dear fly buzzing around and around and around and a-r-o-u-n-d my head. No amount of running, swatting, or shaking of my head would send it flying off to find another sweatier human being. This fly was caught in orbit around my sweaty hair, which already had pine sap, leaves and twigs in it from the dense forest I was currently traversing. As I walked and swatted, I thought, and looked, and saw and mused. I walked deeper than ever into the forest, and kept promising I'd bend over and turn over the next log I saw, to collect some insects, but I never did, and I don't know why. Perhaps I was just too hot and sticky, and that fly was making me dizzy as it traveled along it's circular path. As I walked, I began to be aware of a strange noise. It sounded like someone doing that armpit suction noise, that boys especially like to do. For a while, I listened and walked cautiousely around the noise. I didn't hear any twigs breaking. I heard no sound of feet, wings, beak, or anything that had to do with bird, beast or human. The sound sounded chillingly human, yet, it kept creeping nearer and nearer seemingly without means of transportion. I will admit I was scared, because, first of all, the sound was so familiar, but I could not place my finger on it, and second of all, because the sound kept coming closer, but only the sound, not the feet or wings or whatever this creature possesed for moving. A snake? A Human? A bird? No! How could it be? I retreated past the thorn brush barier, which was easier to cross, now that I had broken most of the branches blocking my path. But then, curriosity got the better of my fear, and I recrossed, and with stealth crept back to where I had been standing. I crept closser. Fear struck again, when the sound came from behind me. I turned, and just as I did so, a small brown and white spotted fawn popped out of the brush, sneezing! I was so startled, I dropped my net and braced myself! But, immediately, I smiled and and lifted my camera to my eye. (Photo below.) I got one good shot of it, before it had sated it's curiosity and was bounding (and sneezing) happily away.

The last thing I did before it was time to go, was take a photo of a cranefly that was sitting so still on a leaf. The dear fly continued to torment me, now breaking it's orbital path and lunging for some flesh hear or there. I broke into a run at the edge of the woods, and the wind I created pulled the reluctant wings into a different orbit around some other unlucky creature.

When I showed everyone the picture of the dear my freinds, who live in the house, all said the same thing: "I never knew we had dear back there, and so close to the house at that!"

Tiger Moth Caterpillar