A Naif in the Forest by Darrell Berger

Wing Tips to Hiking Boots: Musings of a New, Full-Time Poconos Resident 

When we created a garden on top of the shale near our house, we arranged several shelves of large, stacked rock to hold the soil. The shelves, with numerous cracks, crevices and seams, have become a series of homes for frogs, lizards, chipmunks, mice and snakes. 

The combination of mild winter and long, wet spring enhanced the living conditions for all. They are more numerous, and bigger.  For instance, we usually saw one or two garter snakes per year, about a foot long. Last week we saw this one.

He didn’t look that big when he stuck his head out, but he just kept coming. One, two, three, probably four feet, about as big as garter snakes get. The bulge in his middle indicted a recent meal. He was on his way to bask in the sun. 

I admit it. I’m afraid of snakes. Like many fears, mine is driven by ignorance. I know just enough about snakes to be afraid. Only because it was moving slowly away from me did I linger to snap the photo. 

The garter snake gets its name from the obsolete article of clothing which, when properly affixed to keep stockings in place, resembles the indentifying vertical stripes of these snakes. Calling them “garden snakes” is incorrect, even if gardens are currently more prevalent than garters. 

Garter snakes hibernate and thus appreciate our walls’ many crevices, also conveniently inhabited by a variety of their prey. Yet they do not live without peril. Raptors, foxes, coyotes and even large toads are a danger to them, though I doubt this specimen is threatened by toads. 

Garters make friends with others of their species, and when separated, return to their original cohort. Flicking their tongues to sense pheromones is the primary way they sense their environment. This is very important for males in detecting the scent of females. 

As we walk through our gardens, we tend the flowers and veggies, almost oblivious to the life teaming and competing in every crevice of our shale walls. That is, until a four foot snake appears to remind us.