roadkill Archives - Owl Medicine: Shamanic Healing

Praying Mantis – Photo: L. Weikel

Come At Me!

This is Sheila, my Boston Terrier’s, favorite time of year. Why? Because she delights in the opportunity to indulge in a diet of crunchy greens, and for a few days (perhaps a week?) each year, there are an abundance of such ‘crunchy greens’ just waiting for her to discover them.

Young Love Gone Wrong

I know, it’s unseemly to make light of the grievous massacre that occurs each and every year at this time.

I’m actually not sure if it’s a ritualistic ‘crossing of the road’ that drives this species specifically at this time of year to cross the road in droves – consequently getting smooshed in droves by oblivious human drivers.

Or is it the heady euphoria (pun intended) of mating with one’s beloved, knowing deep down inside that once your primal urge to pass along your genetic material is sated, you will literally get your head bitten off by your partner in gratitude for your winged passion?

Roadkill Buffet

Whatever the cause, Sheila is delighted to offer her services as canine cleanup crew.

No kidding, it probably took us 15 minutes longer than usual to get around the circuit (the walk around – 2.2 miles) precisely because Sheila was busy prying up dead bodies from the macadam surface and relishing her favorite annual delicacy: Praying Mantis (PM).

Honestly, it was tragic how many Praying Mantises did not make it from one side of the road to the other.

One, however, was entirely affronted when Spartacus (Sheila’s enthusiastic son, who actually doesn’t care for the taste of Praying Mantises and would much rather prefer a random crushed hickory nut) ran up to it to determine whether or not it was alive.

BACK OFF! – or – Come At Me!*

Indeed, it was very much alive, thank you, not only whirring its wings at him in indignation, but also ‘putting up its dukes’ in a bellicose and authentically pugnacious attitude. Not having a taste for PM to start with, and not necessarily looking for a fight with anything for a second thing, Spartacus was easily swayed to leave it the heck alone. (*This is a ‘PG’ translation of my perception of just what that PM was saying to Spartacus when he went up to it and sniffed it.)

I immediately took its photo, trying to capture the indignation.

Of course, as I stood there, no fewer than three automobiles came through and passed us. The fact that we were seeing untoward carnage as we walked, necessitated I break my usual rule of non-interference. So after nudging the Praying Mantis failed to get it to move to the side of the road, I decided to gently grab one of its wings to toss it into the grass beside the road.

Aiding and Abetting Survival

This effort seemed to work well enough to at least save this one, very full-bellied, Praying Mantis. (I only noticed the girth of its abdomen when it landed almost upside down in the tall grasses beside the road.) I’m hoping it was a female, so I can imagine having saved millions of nymphs.

Anyway, since the primary lesson of Praying Mantis is ‘stillness,’ I’m going to close this post out and find some stillness myself – with my head on my pillow.

While the Circle of Life can be harsh, I at least took some comfort in Sheila’s exuberant appreciation of these “Zen Mantises.” (You know, the ones that were “one with the road.”)

Not everyone who aims to cross the road makes it to the other side. But at least there’s a lovable Boston Terrier willing to run cleanup on Tory Road.

Praying Mantis – Closer to the side of the road – Photo: L. Weikel

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Copperhead Visitor, top view – Photo: L. Weikel

It Pays to Pay Attention

Living near rocky outcroppings, forests, and hiking trails, Karl and I have seen a fair number of snakes. It’s sad, but most of the snakes we see are young Eastern Milk Snakes that have been squished by cars as the youngsters try to cross the road near High Rocks. Yes, I realize that sounds specific, but for all our walking, the dirt and gravel road that leads to High Rocks is unquestionably a death dealer for a lot of snakes.

The other day, Saturday to be exact, we came across a Milk Snake that we initially thought was another casualty of cars driving to High Rocks. I’m pretty vigilant about removing from the roadway any dead animals we might encounter because I don’t want carillon eaters (mostly Turkey Vultures and Black Vultures, but Crows like to grab snacks if they have a chance) getting hit while feasting.

Assist – With Caution

I say we ‘initially’ thought the snake was a casualty – but I make sure (before engaging in my shifting-the-body-to-the-berm efforts) they’re dead before messing with them. This particular Milk Snake was not discernibly squished anywhere, so I proceeded with caution (even though I was pretty sure it was a Milk Snake – and they are not venomous). With a gentle nudge of a stick, it scooted off the roadway. But I did manage to snap its photo before it headed into the grass.

Milk Snake – Photo: L. Weikel

I’m familiar with Milk Snakes because they resemble Northern Copperheads, which are venomous. In fact, Copperheads are the source of the most bites in Pennsylvania, although luckily, those bites are very rarely lethal – just really painful.

I say ‘just’ extremely painful – but I can assure you, I have absolutely no desire to experience such a bite.

Luck Plays a Part, Too

It turns out that Copperheads, while being the snakes that produce the most bites, do not tend to be aggressive. Rather, almost all bites are a result of a person stepping on one or accidentally touching one.

This reinforces my initial assertion that it pays to pay attention.

But I’m here to tell you that luck can go a long way as well.

Witness this serpent I encountered yesterday: I was trudging up the hill back to our fire pit and lost my balance. At the very same moment as I struggled not to fall forward, my brain registered what I was seeing curled amongst the leaves at the very edge of the grilling area:

Copperhead visitor, hanging out – Photo: L. Weikel

I’ll admit it; I freaked. I don’t know how I managed to stumble yet remain standing enough to dodge tumbling right onto it! I was lucky. That’s all I can say. Lucky that I was paying attention and lucky that my center of gravity was such that I was able to catch myself.

Move Along (Please!)

Of course, since Karl was laying another fire (and was probably freaked every bit as much as I was – because he’d been walking around very close to it and had not seen it), I felt we needed to move it. We welcome the message that serpent brings (to shed that which no longer serves us), but we didn’t need the messenger in our faces any longer than necessary!

Knowing it was alive, I found a very long branch with which to nudge it out of its slumber. It was not alarmed in the least. In fact, it hung around, basically showed me where it lives, left our company, returned a while later, allowed me to take its photograph from a couple of different angles, and then retreated again to its home amidst the massive rock wall.

Here are my photos. Theme: My September Encounter with a Copperhead:

Copperhead heading into its home – Photo: L. Weikel

As you can see, it was much longer than expected, based upon how deceptively compact it was curled up within the leaves!

Returning to visit again – Photo: L. Weikel

Well, for whatever reason, I can’t get the photos to propagate the post. So…you’ll have to imagine what s/he looked like all stretched out. Maybe tomorrow!

(I had to write the paragraph above because the photos would not upload. I’ve gotten them embedded now, so those of you reading this via FB or later on my website – after those receiving this via email – should be able to see the photos in all their…um…glory!)

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