The Lone Ranger
08-26-2009, 01:48 AM
[/Samwise]
I spent the better part of a week doing a quick [sadly, far too quick] exploration of Shenendoah National Park, the Blue Ridge Parkway, and Hanging Rock State Park (North Carolina). Plus a very brief visit to Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
Four of my very favorite places in the whole world.
The saddest part was that I had so little time, and so couldn't do a proper exploration of any of them. Mostly, the vacation consisted of driving along the Skyline Drive (http://www.nps.gov/shen/planyourvisit/driving-skyline-drive.htm) in Shenendoah and stopping at every interesting overlook or patch of wildflowers. The Blue Ridge Parkway was the same deal: drive along and enjoy the scenery, stopping for the best views, or for interesting wildlife or wildflowers. I did spend the better part of a day hiking the Linville Gorge area (http://ncnatural.com/Resources/Adventure/Gorge/Linville-Gorge.html) area, though. I spent a couple of days hiking around Hanging Rock (http://www.ncparks.gov/Visit/parks/haro/main.php) as well, plus a little time hiking in GSMNP.
Though I've had the opportunity visit family in North Carolina over the past few years, it has been ten years since last I was able to explore the Blue Ridge Parkway or Great Smoky Mountains N.P. Astonishing! Where on Earth does the time go?
For the most part, little has changed. Rounding a curve in Virginia, I thought to myself, "There used to be a really nice Flame Azalea (Rhododendron calendulaceum (http://farm1.static.flickr.com/189/496824351_1bfdd47638_o.jpg)) bush just up ahead; I wonder if it's still there." Sure enough, when I rounded the curve, there it was. Later, when hiking a trail near Crabtree Falls in North Carolina, I thought, "I remember taking a picture of a really nice Rattlesnake Plantain (Goodyera pubescens (http://i.pbase.com/v3/95/10595/1/46606163.Gpubescens2.jpg)) right about here. And just a few feet further on, there was a Rattlesnake Plantain, exactly where I remembered last seeing it. (Whether it was the original plant or one of its descendants, I don't know.)
It was both inspiring and a bit depressing to muse on how little things have changed in 10 years' time. It's nice to know that these things will still be there, long after all of us are dust. On the other hand, it's a little depressing to contemplate a majestic mountain landscape and realize that the forces which shaped it operate on a timescale such that a human lifespan is utterly insignificant. (The curse of being an evolutionary biologist -- or a geologist -- is that most of the really cool stuff takes much longer than a human lifetime to happen.)
Saw several of Black Bears, especially in Virginia. Saw lots of Whitetail Deer, too, of course. One evening, while sitting on a grassy bank in Shenendoah and admiring the stars, I heard a grunting sound near my feet. I turned on my flashlight to see a mother Striped Skunk and a couple of her kits were exploring the area. (I decided it was best not to disturb them.)
Early one morning, on the BRP in Virginia, I came across a large Timber Rattlesnake warming itself on the road. Fearing that someone would run it over, I stopped to get it out of the road. It wasn't especially cooperative, but with some poking and prodding, I finally got it out of the road. Once it was safely off the road, I let it be, and it coiled up to buzz at me for awhile as I took some pictures. (I've always thought the name "rattlesnake" is a misnomer; a real rattlesnake does not sound like the rattling sound that's typically dubbed in when you see one on television or in a movie. The sound a rattlesnake's tail makes is a buzz, not a rattle.)
A few days later, I encountered another large rattler, this time in Shenendoah.
I should point out, here, that Rattlesnakes have a reputation for being fairly even-tempered snakes, whereas Copperheads have a reputation for being rather bad-tempered and quick to bite.
Anyway, I stopped to get this rattler out of the road, and it just sat there as I approached, making no attempt to flee. So I reached down and tapped its tail lightly, figuring that'd probably encourage it to move along. Nope. Like a flash, the snake spun around and struck at the spot my hand had occupied a second earlier. I'd not have liked to have tested my reflexes against that snake's speed -- he was a quick one! Strangely, though, it didn't rattle. I nudged him with my [snake-proof] boot, hoping to encourage him to move along, and he immediately bit my boot -- but he neither retreated nor rattled. I nudged him again with my boot, and he bit my boot again. After that, he buried his head in his coils and began to buzz loudly.
Rattlesnakes often bury their heads in their coils when confronted by snake-eating King Snakes. King Snakes appear to be immune to rattlesnake venom, and so a rattler's best defense against a King Snake is to prevent the King Snake from getting at its head. Maybe his lack of success against my boot encouraged the rattler to adopt a different defensive technique.
In any event, this presented a problem. If he'd left his head exposed I could have, with a bit of effort, pinned his head, picked him up, and carried him off the road. But by making his head inaccessible, he made it impossible for me to pick him up without running an unacceptible risk of being bitten. So I found a decent-sized stick and used that to pick him up and carry him off the road.
Only a mile or so later, I encountered a Copperhead on the road. Again I stopped, hoping to get it off the road before someone else should come along and run it over. It ignored my approach, and despite its reputation, it merely turned and looked at me when I tapped its tail. So I nudged it with my boot, hoping that by pushing it forward a few inches, I'd encourage it to move off the road. But the snake simply turned to look at me; it didn't strike at me, or even coil into a defensive posture. Finally, I tapped it on the head, and that, apparently, made it decide to move off the road.
Apparently, no one had informed the rattler that rattlesnakes are supposed to be calm-natured snakes, nor had anyone informed the Copperhead that Copperheads are supposed to be bad-tempered and quick to bite.
Anyway, I had a good time, but the vacation was far too brief. If anything, I had forgotten just how much I truly love the Southern Appalachians -- the majestic mountains, the streams, the waterfalls, the forests, the wildlife, and the wildflowers. It most-definitely will not be another 10 years before I return.
I'm thinking that, next summer, if I can, I'll rent a cabin for a couple of weeks in Shenendoah N.P., or near Great Smoky Mountains N.P.
Cheers,
Michael
I spent the better part of a week doing a quick [sadly, far too quick] exploration of Shenendoah National Park, the Blue Ridge Parkway, and Hanging Rock State Park (North Carolina). Plus a very brief visit to Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
Four of my very favorite places in the whole world.
The saddest part was that I had so little time, and so couldn't do a proper exploration of any of them. Mostly, the vacation consisted of driving along the Skyline Drive (http://www.nps.gov/shen/planyourvisit/driving-skyline-drive.htm) in Shenendoah and stopping at every interesting overlook or patch of wildflowers. The Blue Ridge Parkway was the same deal: drive along and enjoy the scenery, stopping for the best views, or for interesting wildlife or wildflowers. I did spend the better part of a day hiking the Linville Gorge area (http://ncnatural.com/Resources/Adventure/Gorge/Linville-Gorge.html) area, though. I spent a couple of days hiking around Hanging Rock (http://www.ncparks.gov/Visit/parks/haro/main.php) as well, plus a little time hiking in GSMNP.
Though I've had the opportunity visit family in North Carolina over the past few years, it has been ten years since last I was able to explore the Blue Ridge Parkway or Great Smoky Mountains N.P. Astonishing! Where on Earth does the time go?
For the most part, little has changed. Rounding a curve in Virginia, I thought to myself, "There used to be a really nice Flame Azalea (Rhododendron calendulaceum (http://farm1.static.flickr.com/189/496824351_1bfdd47638_o.jpg)) bush just up ahead; I wonder if it's still there." Sure enough, when I rounded the curve, there it was. Later, when hiking a trail near Crabtree Falls in North Carolina, I thought, "I remember taking a picture of a really nice Rattlesnake Plantain (Goodyera pubescens (http://i.pbase.com/v3/95/10595/1/46606163.Gpubescens2.jpg)) right about here. And just a few feet further on, there was a Rattlesnake Plantain, exactly where I remembered last seeing it. (Whether it was the original plant or one of its descendants, I don't know.)
It was both inspiring and a bit depressing to muse on how little things have changed in 10 years' time. It's nice to know that these things will still be there, long after all of us are dust. On the other hand, it's a little depressing to contemplate a majestic mountain landscape and realize that the forces which shaped it operate on a timescale such that a human lifespan is utterly insignificant. (The curse of being an evolutionary biologist -- or a geologist -- is that most of the really cool stuff takes much longer than a human lifetime to happen.)
Saw several of Black Bears, especially in Virginia. Saw lots of Whitetail Deer, too, of course. One evening, while sitting on a grassy bank in Shenendoah and admiring the stars, I heard a grunting sound near my feet. I turned on my flashlight to see a mother Striped Skunk and a couple of her kits were exploring the area. (I decided it was best not to disturb them.)
Early one morning, on the BRP in Virginia, I came across a large Timber Rattlesnake warming itself on the road. Fearing that someone would run it over, I stopped to get it out of the road. It wasn't especially cooperative, but with some poking and prodding, I finally got it out of the road. Once it was safely off the road, I let it be, and it coiled up to buzz at me for awhile as I took some pictures. (I've always thought the name "rattlesnake" is a misnomer; a real rattlesnake does not sound like the rattling sound that's typically dubbed in when you see one on television or in a movie. The sound a rattlesnake's tail makes is a buzz, not a rattle.)
A few days later, I encountered another large rattler, this time in Shenendoah.
I should point out, here, that Rattlesnakes have a reputation for being fairly even-tempered snakes, whereas Copperheads have a reputation for being rather bad-tempered and quick to bite.
Anyway, I stopped to get this rattler out of the road, and it just sat there as I approached, making no attempt to flee. So I reached down and tapped its tail lightly, figuring that'd probably encourage it to move along. Nope. Like a flash, the snake spun around and struck at the spot my hand had occupied a second earlier. I'd not have liked to have tested my reflexes against that snake's speed -- he was a quick one! Strangely, though, it didn't rattle. I nudged him with my [snake-proof] boot, hoping to encourage him to move along, and he immediately bit my boot -- but he neither retreated nor rattled. I nudged him again with my boot, and he bit my boot again. After that, he buried his head in his coils and began to buzz loudly.
Rattlesnakes often bury their heads in their coils when confronted by snake-eating King Snakes. King Snakes appear to be immune to rattlesnake venom, and so a rattler's best defense against a King Snake is to prevent the King Snake from getting at its head. Maybe his lack of success against my boot encouraged the rattler to adopt a different defensive technique.
In any event, this presented a problem. If he'd left his head exposed I could have, with a bit of effort, pinned his head, picked him up, and carried him off the road. But by making his head inaccessible, he made it impossible for me to pick him up without running an unacceptible risk of being bitten. So I found a decent-sized stick and used that to pick him up and carry him off the road.
Only a mile or so later, I encountered a Copperhead on the road. Again I stopped, hoping to get it off the road before someone else should come along and run it over. It ignored my approach, and despite its reputation, it merely turned and looked at me when I tapped its tail. So I nudged it with my boot, hoping that by pushing it forward a few inches, I'd encourage it to move off the road. But the snake simply turned to look at me; it didn't strike at me, or even coil into a defensive posture. Finally, I tapped it on the head, and that, apparently, made it decide to move off the road.
Apparently, no one had informed the rattler that rattlesnakes are supposed to be calm-natured snakes, nor had anyone informed the Copperhead that Copperheads are supposed to be bad-tempered and quick to bite.
Anyway, I had a good time, but the vacation was far too brief. If anything, I had forgotten just how much I truly love the Southern Appalachians -- the majestic mountains, the streams, the waterfalls, the forests, the wildlife, and the wildflowers. It most-definitely will not be another 10 years before I return.
I'm thinking that, next summer, if I can, I'll rent a cabin for a couple of weeks in Shenendoah N.P., or near Great Smoky Mountains N.P.
Cheers,
Michael