My list for this year’s statewide spring bird count included 50 species of birds, two species of amphibians, and one reptile. The reptile was a pretty-good-sized specimen of the northern water snake that I saw just a stride before I would have stepped on it.
My snake had a tan body marked with dark chocolate brown rectangles down its back and smaller, irregular blotches on its sides. According to the books, this is the typical pattern of the northern water snake, but the books also say the snakes get darker as they get larger. On big snakes the pattern may be so mixed with the ground color that it can’t be seen except by very close examination in good light. And since my snake was 12 feet long–well, actually it wasn’t 12 feet long, but if it was short of three feet it wasn’t by much–it should have been much darker.
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
My chance to look closely at the animal lasted not more than ten seconds. Then it thrashed violently once and burrowed under a floating mass of last year’s cattail leaves and other detritus.
When natural areas are turned into islands, as nearly all of ours have been, birds and some mammals can move from one island to another. They can colonize attractive places and move away from inhospitable lands. Herptiles don’t have that kind of mobility. Imagine a northern water snake trying to cross I-57.
The grasslands are part of the Cook County Forest Preserves system. Their southern end is at Vollmer Road, which, if it had a number, would be 200th Street. They are part of a block of preserves that extends along both sides of Central Avenue from Vollmer to 159th Street.
I wore my Wellingtons to check out the marshes. Over the years I have vacillated on the question of whether it is better to wade with Wellingtons or just to wear old, beat-up running shoes and get wet. In warm weather getting wet is no big deal, and wearing Wellingtons you always face the possibility of stepping into water that is just an inch too deep. Walking in water- filled Wellingtons is the worst of both worlds.
I walked very slowly through the ankle-deep water of this odd place. I flushed a pair of mallard and a sora and then, by standing very still, managed to see a pair of Virginia rails watching me from the cattails. Behind me was the rattling song of the marsh wren, and dragonflies darted low over the water.
