ROVIN’ AND RAVIN’ WITH MIKE
Copyright © 2000 by Michael Segers, All rights reserved
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Of Snakes and Politicians
It’s an election year, and that has me thinking about snakes… no comment about our current candidates intended. In fact, this link in my web of memories reaches back almost a quarter century, when I was living in New York City, site of the 1976 Democratic national convention. Shuffling along a crowded cross town street one day, I almost bumped into Jimmy Carter, or at least his Secret Service entourage. I thought it strange that I had to move to New York to see the governor of Georgia.
That weekend, I went out to Staten Island, the most remote of the five boroughs of New York City, to visit their little zoo. There, to my surprise, I saw for the first time another famous Georgian—an Eastern indigo snake. With those memories refreshed in my mind, this week I’ll leave our current politicos to rave about themselves and against each other. I’m rovin’ through the woods of southern Georgia in search of the largest snake (up to nine feet) in North America and one of the most beautiful animals on earth.
I want to celebrate Drymarchon corais because it is a threatened species, the loss of which would mean a serious loss to our habitat. Indigo snakes have had about the most peculiar relationship with human beings of any serpents since the time of Adam and Eve. They grow quite complacent around humans. There are stories of rural families tolerating indigo snakes because they are known to eat other snakes, with apparently a special fondness for rattlesnakes—so much so that some scientists suspect they are immune to rattlesnake venom. On the other hand, the snake’s tolerance of human presence (not to mention its large size) has led people to feel threatened by it, although it has hardly ever been known to bite. Because of its disposition, the indigo’s popularity in the pet trade was a serious factor in its need for federal protection. In the United States, one now must have special permits to own an indigo snake of either subspecies, the Eastern or the Texas.
Another important relationship in the lives of indigo snakes is their association with gopher tortoises. Like many other creatures, the indigo takes advantage of tortoise burrows, especially in the winter; one attraction of these burrows for the indigo snake is the presence of the other critters—shelter with an all-you-can-eat buffet. When rattlesnake hunters pour gasoline down a tortoise burrow, the pugnacious rattlers will come out, but the more reserved indigos stay behind and suffocate. I know that it is not a good idea to anthropomorphize, to interpret animal behavior in human terms, but I see a kind of nobility in the indigo’s actions.
It takes more than nobility for a species to survive, especially when it doesn’t even have feet to keep dry. Despite the protected status of the species, many are still killed by human beings, intentionally or accidentally, on highways. I began this article by linking politicians and animals, and we all know that environmental concerns have become politicized—this year more than ever, with all the slinging of (we hope) pure, unpolluted mud over the environmental records of the candidates for the presidency. Extremists on both sides of environmental issues have clouded the issues, if not the water, so that we lose sight of what we are talking about—magnificent animals like the indigo snake.
I saw my first indigo snake in a cage in New York. But, even in that setting, it almost took my breath away. If you have never seen one, imagine a neon light, a black neon light, shimmering with an eerie blue glow… a light that doesn’t blink, that moves gracefully but powerfully (male indigos at the Kennedy Space Center have been recorded ranging across almost seven hundred acres).
Years later, I was shuffling along a sandy ridge somewhere near Valdosta, and I felt the presence before I saw it: in the dappled sunlight under the pines, the enormous snake seemed too exotic to be a part of the familiar south Georgia landscape. Before I could even form the words in my mind, the snake lunged, but lunged backwards, and was gone. I had a strange sense of privilege. A few months later, taking classes in Colorado, I understood exactly what one of my professors meant when he said that he always considered it a special blessing when he caught sight of a badger.
The indigo snake is almost lost to us here in Georgia, and as rapidly as Florida—the remaining range of the Eastern indigo—is losing undeveloped habitat, the indigo’s days there may be limited. The Texas species, which ranges down to northern Mexico, seems to be doing a little better. But, for me, there is a weird sort of pun distinctly identifying the indigo snake with Georgia. After all, the indigo plant, the source of the once treasured indigo dye (now largely replaced by synthetics), was a crop grown in colonial Georgia, and nowadays we have—I can’t resist this—the Indigo Girls.
Indigo snakes still slither around the Internet. You can find a stunning photo of the subject of this article online as well as a coloring book image that you can download and print for the kids. You can learn about the Environmental Protection Agency's Endangered Species Protection Program. Specifically, you can learn about the endangered species of plants and animals in Georgia (our topic animal is listed as "snake, eastern indigo").
Keep your feet dry (and watch where you step), your heart full of noble thoughts, including a little bit of gratitude for some of our amazing neighbors that we are in danger of losing. I hope you understand, by the way, that I meant no disrespect by the words in my title. Surely, by now, you are aware of the high regard I have for snakes.
