Posted: 9/27/06
A great trip, snakes or no snakes
By David Heiller
Argus News Editor
It wasnít a perfect day for finding rattlesnakes, but in the end that didnít really matter.
Jaime and Dave found more prairie plants than I could write down, and they got a feel for what should happen next on that bluff overlooking Winnebago Valley.
I got to tag along to get a sense of their interesting jobs and a close look at a beautiful slice of our natural world.
That natural world doesnít get much better than the hill we climbed on Thursday morning, September 21.
I had asked Minnesota Department of Natural Resources biologist Jaime Edwards for the outing, on the pretense of looking for rattlesnakes. Thatís Jaimeís niche as a non-game specialist.
She brought along Dave Spiering, who works with private landowners to try to reclaim bluffs like the one we climbed.
They were heading to visit with a landowner about that subject after our outing.
And I quickly discerned that this trip was about much more than rattle snakes. They can be a focal point for many people, and not necessarily a good one, although Spiering and Edwards would like to change that negative image.
The focus was really on the prairie. People might not think of the bluffs in Houston County as prairie, but many of them are, or at least used to be until the march of the red cedars overtook them. South and west facing bluffs are ideal because the sun dries them out, and that leads to prairie and oak savannas
The hill we climbed provided a stark example of the effects of cedar. We first went through a band of big cedar trees, some with a diameter of 16 inches or more. Plant life under the trees was almost nil, unless you count buckthorn, which most people would rather not do. It was mostly sandy soil and cedar needles on the ground.
That changed as soon as we emerged into the cool and cloudy day. Spiering and Edwards called out plant names as they came to them, and it kept up for the next two hours.
ìCoreopsis. Leadplant.î
ìBergamot bluestem.î
ìHoary urbane.î
ìPrairie violet.î
Multiply that by about 10 and youíll start to grasp the diversity. Those two people know their plants.
ìThese bluffs have a lot of rare plants on them,î Spiering said. ìThe hills have held onto their native prairie because itís so rugged.î
That was true on our little patch of heaven. At times I felt like I would topple backwards as I hiked back and forth, scanning the ground for snakes. It was steep.
Edwards carried a snake hook about four feet long to help her move grass and sticks. She and Spiering would often get down on their hands and knees to peer under rocks and ledges.
Spiering spied a six-line race runner, a tiny lizard. It raced out of sight, practically beneath my feet.
That drew my eye to a likely looking snake hole. I got down to peer inside. Nothing.
ìLook at the shed,î Spiering said.
About a foot in front of my face lay a huge shed snake skin.
It wasnít new. A rattlesnake had shed it in August, Spiering estimated. He pointed out the keel lines on the back. Edwards came over and noted a band on the skin. They called it a chevron.
ìThereís two there!î I said. My two partners agreed. One shed lay on top of the other, but a close look revealed the two distinct skins, right down to their tails. So my old Brownsville instincts werenít so rusty after all.
Edwards and Spiering passed a lot of information back and forth as we walked. A lot of it dealt with the prairie. A lack of grazing and lack of fires has let cedars grow onto hills that used to be bare, Spiering said.
DNR workers cleared some cedars from this hill, which is state land, about four years ago, Spiering said. The work is done in the winter so no critters are hurt. Theyíll probably do a controlled burn here next spring, and cut some more trees down
Such work is not a priority with the DNR, Edwards said, because not much money can be made on it as opposed to harvesting a mature stand of hardwood. Itís expensive too, about $1,000 an acre, because of all the hand work and manual labor involved.
Thatís one of the complexities of the DNR, Edwards said. ìItís not that theyíre mutually exclusive, but you look at them a little differently,î she said diplomatically.
For example, she showed me a huge old oak tree at the top of the bluff. It had limb scars low on the tree, which tell that it got its start on the edge of a prairie or oak savannah. She called it an ìopen grove oak.î
A forester might be inclined to cut the tree down to bring in sunlight for new oak trees. Edwards would like to see it stay right where it is. It provides a roost for turkeys, and a diverse plant life underneath that produce bugs and turkey food. Some of its nuts will turn into future oak trees.
High mortality
Winnebago Valley is a hotspot for rattlesnakes, Edwards said, but people donít realize the population is declining everywhere else.
ìWe have a high mortality in this valley, unfortunately,î Edwards said. A lot of snakes get killed on the road, sometimes unnecessarily, she added.
Itís illegal to kill a rattlesnake unless it is in your yard. Itís also illegal to have rattles or skins in your possession.
Thatís where the connection to the rattlers and prairie restoration comes in. As the snakes lose their natural habitat, they look for more open sunny spots. ìA lot of times those open areas are peopleís back yards,î Edwards said.
Spiering said they get information from older residents on where to find snakes. Farmers will point out hills that used to have many of them. ìA lot of times there arenít any snakes left. They all got poached out,î Edwards said. Then she corrected herself. ìThere was a bounty.î
The bounty program for rattle snakes ended in 1989. In 1996 they were put on a threatened species list.
The prairie restoration seems to be boosting the snake population, Edwards said. ìIt could be a coincidence,î she added.
Rattlesnakes are hard to study, Spiering said. They are secretive, live 20-30 years, and are weather-dependant.
People are becoming more cooperative to their efforts, both Spiering and Edwards said. The land incentive is hard to beat ñ 100 percent funding. But there is more land than money, he added. The program has 40-50 landowners, he estimated. People who want more information can call Spiering at 507-280-2851.
Old-time farmers hate cedars more than they hate snakes, Edwards said with a laugh.
But Edwards and Spiering still find many folks who would rather kill a rattlesnake than move it or call someone. Mothers with small children are especially in that category, Edwards said.
People donít think their actions will impact the overall population of rattlers. She disagrees. ìThey may be gone in our lifetime. People donít realize that,î she said. ìBut itís true.î
ìLive and let live,î Spiering added.
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