MASSASSAUGA RATTLER LEFT IN MY DESK DRAWER
WAKE-UP STRATEGY FOR THE ROOKIE REPORTER
ACCORDING TO THE LOCAL MEDIA, AND I'LL TAKE THEIR WORD FOR IT THIS TIME, THERE HAVE BEEN TWELVE BITES THIS SUMMER SEASON, COURTESY THE NATIVE SPECIES, THE MASSASSAUGA RATTLER.
I REALLY DIDN'T KNOW A LOT ABOUT THE MASSASSAUGA SPECIES, UNTIL I BEGAN WORKING IN THE VILLAGE OF MACTIER, BACK IN 1979, FOR THE MUSKOKA LAKES-GEORGIAN BAY BEACON. MACTIER, SITUATED IN THE TOWNSHIP OF GEORGIAN BAY, IS IN AN AREA WELL KNOWN FOR ITS MASSASSAUGA POPULATION. I BELIEVE, THAT WHEN THE 400 WAS EXTENDED NORTH TO PARRY SOUND, IN THE REVAMPING REGIMEN OF THE OLD HIGHWAY 69 CORRIDOR, RATTLESNAKE MIGRATION TUNNELS WERE CREATED, IN AN ATTEMPT TO REDUCE THE CARNAGE OF SNAKES KILLED CROSSING THE ROADWAY. THE MASSASSAUGA RATTLER, OF COURSE, IS AN ENDANGERED SPECIES, AND YOU CAN BE PROSECUTED FOR KILLING THEM WITHOUT CAUSE. WELL SIR, MACTIER HAD ITS SHARE OF JUSTIFIED SNAKE KILLINGS, AT LEAST IN THOSE DAYS.
ADMITTEDLY, I'M NOT A BIG FAN OF SNAKES AND THEIR ILK, BUT I MEAN THEM NO HARM. I WAS FASCINATED TO LEARN MORE ABOUT THE MASSASSAUGA RATTLERS, AND PLANNED TO DO A LENGTHY FEATURE FOR THE BEACON. IT WAS KIND OF A LOGICAL ONE, SEEING AS JUST BEFORE I PLANNED TO DO THIS, TWELVE OF THE LITTLE BUGGERS WERE KILLED IN A BACKYARD, WHERE THEY HAD ENCROACHED INTO THE AREA FREQUENTED BY CHILDREN. THIS APPARENTLY WAS A JUSTIFIED REMOVAL OF SOMETHING DANGEROUS TO LIFE AND LIMB. I MAY HAVE ASKED WHY THEY WEREN'T TRAPPED AND RELEASED SOMEWHERE ELSE, BUT I DON'T REMEMBER THE RESPONSE. I THINK IT WAS A CASE OF THE LEVEL OF ENCROACHMENT AND THE IMMINENT DANGER TO THE HOUSEHOLDERS. ANOTHER PHOTOGRAPH CAME ACROSS MY DESK, OF SEVEN OR SO, KILLED WHILE CROSSING THE ROAD, A SHORT DISTANCE FROM THE MAIN STREET.
ONCE LOCAL CITIZENS HEARD THAT I WAS DOING THIS FEATURE STORY, WITH A MACTIER NEIGHBORHOOD PROFILE, I STARTED TO GET ALL KINDS OF STORIES ABOUT LIFE WITH RATTLESNAKES. ONE FRIEND OF MINE, WHO HAD LIVED IN THE COMMUNITY FOR MOST OF HIS LIFE, TOLD ME THAT, BEFORE THE NEW ARENA WAS BUILT, NEAR THE MAIN BUSINESS SECTION, THERE WAS A BASEBALL DIAMOND, AND A PLANK-WAY THROUGH A MARSHY AREA TO GET TO THE PARK. AT LEAST IT WAS ONE WAY TO GET TO THE PARK, BUT A FAVORITE OF THE LOCAL KIDS, WHO USED TO TEASE THE SNAKES, BY RUNNING OVER THE BOARDS, AND WATCHING AS THE SNAKES SNAPPED UP, TRYING TO SINK THEIR FANGS INTO A JUICY ANKLE. I STARTED TO LAUGH, WHEN I WAS TOLD THIS.....BUT THE TELLER STUCK TO THE STORY, AND IT WAS BACKED UP BY SEVERAL OTHERS. MACTIER FOLK LOVED TO PLAY GAMES WITH ME.....AND ALL THE REPORTERS WHO WORKED THERE....INCLUDING PLAYING PRACTICAL JOKES.
ONE DAY, I CAME BACK FROM A LUNCH OUTING, AND JOYCE LUSK AND LORNA MCLEOD WERE ANXIOUS FOR ME TO SIT DOWN AND GET TO WORK ON SOME HOCKEY SCORESHEETS, SO THEY COULD GET HARD COPY TO SET, AND THEN WAX THE FINISHED COPY ONTO THE FLATS....FROM WHICH THE PAPER WAS COPIED AND THEN PRINTED AT MUSKOKA WEB, IN BRACEBRIDGE.
THEY WERE VERY, VERY ANXIOUS FOR ME TO OPEN THE TOP DRAWER OF MY DESK, AND ASKED IF THEY COULD BORROW PAPER CLIPS, AND TYPEWRITER PAPER......SO THAT I WOULD HAVE TO CRACK IT OPEN. I SUSPECTED ONE OF THEIR MACTIER JOKES, SO I WAS VERY SLOW TO FOLLOW THROUGH ON THEIR REQUESTS.
THE FIRST THING THAT HIT ME WAS THE AROMA, AND IT WASN'T TYPICAL OF MY DESK DRAWER. IT SMELLED "SWAMPY" OR MUSTY, AND THAT WAS ONLY ALLOWING A BIT OF OPEN DRAWER. I DID HALF EXPECT SOMETHING WAS IN THE DRAWER I WOULDN'T LIKE. I DIDN'T EXPECT, THAT THESE WONDERFUL GALS WOULD PLACE A DEAD MASSASSAUGA RATTLER IN MY DESK DRAWER AS A GAG. IT WAS THE CLOSEST I'VE EVER COME TO SUCH A CREATURE, WHICH IN THIS CASE, WAS CLEARLY DECEASED. THE SNAKE HAD BEEN HIT EARLIER IN THE DAY, ON THE ROAD I TRAVELLED EVERY DAY......AND SOMEONE HAD FOUND IT; SO THEY DECIDED, THAT SEEING AS I WAS DOING A STORY ON THE MASSASSAUGA RATTLER, I SHOULD SEE ONE UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL. THAT WAS WHERE LORNA AND JOYCE DECIDED TO PUNK THE NEW GUY. I WAS MORE SHOCKED, AT THE EXTENT THESE LADIES WOULD GO TO, IN ORDER TO GET THE RESPONSE THEY WANTED. I WATCHED THOSE GALS REAL CLOSE EVER AFTER THE SNAKE CAPER....JUST IN CASE THEY WANTED TO STOP MY HEART ONCE AGAIN.
IT DID AFFORD ME AN EXCELLENT OPPORTUNITY TO EXAMINE THE SNAKE THOROUGHLY, AND I COULDN'T BELIEVE HOW SMALL IT WAS, AND HOW TINY ITS HEAD WAS, AS COMPARED TO THE IMAGES HOLLYWOOD GAVE ME OF WESTERN RATTLERS, STINGING THE CARTRIGHTS AT THE PONDEROSA. I GOT TO PRY OPEN ITS MOUTH, AND SEE THE SHARP, CURVED FANGS, AND WHERE THE VENOM IS RELEASED INTO THE VICTIM. I GOT TO RATTLE ITS TAIL, AND WE TOOK LOTS OF PHOTOGRAPHS, WHILE MAKING SPECIAL NOTE OF ITS COLORATIONS. IT HAS A THIN HEAD AREA AND TAIL, BUT A LARGE BELLY AREA.
WHAT THE EXPERTS PROVIDED US WITH, WAS A COMPLETE OVERVIEW OF ITS HABITS AND HABITAT, AND OFFERED THE INFORMATION THAT IT IS A GROSSLY MISUNDERSTOOD SPECIES. I WAS INFORMED, FOR THAT FEATURE STORY, THAT THE VENOM WAS MOST DEFINITELY DEADLY, IF NOT TREATED WITH ANTI-VENOM QUICKLY. THE SNAKE, HOWEVER, HAS A POWERFUL STRIKE, BUT BECAUSE OF ITS SMALL SIZE, USUALLY STINGS THE BACK OF SHOES AND BOOTS, MORE SO THAN HITTING FLESH. HYDRO WORKERS IN THE AREA MUST WHERE HIGH BOOTS, WHICH DEFLECTS THE MASSASSAUGA BITES. THE PROBLEM IS, MANY OF THESE CRITTERS, COULD BE FOUND IN AND AROUND WILD BLUEBERRY BUSHES, ETC., WHERE PICKERS WOULD BECOME VULNERABLE, BY REACHING INTO THE SHRUBS, AND THEIR HABITAT.
IGNORANCE CERTAINLY PLAYS A HUGE ROLE, IN BITES EACH YEAR, AS HIKERS, CAMPERS AND COTTAGERS, DECIDE TO PICK THE SNAKES UP. ANOTHER BIG PROBLEM IS THE FLIP-FLOP AND BARE FEET ALONG PATHWAYS, WHERE SNAKES ARE LIKELY TO BE FOUND. EXPOSED FEET AND ANKLES GIVE THE SNAKE A GOOD TARGET. THE RATTLE SHOULD BE A WARNING, BUT MANY FOLKS DON'T PAY ATTENTION TO THINGS LIKE THIS.....AND WERE SLEEPING THROUGH NATURAL SCIENCE CLASS, WHEN THE SNAKE WAS BEING STUDIED.
I'VE OFTEN THOUGHT ABOUT THE HARDSHIPS OF THE PIONEER ROAD BUILDERS, GOING THROUGH THE GEORGIAN BAY AREA, WHERE THE POPULATION OF THE SNAKES WOULD HAVE BEEN SUBSTANTIAL. I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW WHAT THE CASUALTY RATE WAS THEN....AND HOW MANY DIED AS A DIRECT RESULT; SNAKES AND WORKERS. I DON'T BELIEVE THE DEATH RATE IS AN ISSUE, THESE DAYS, AS THE ANTI-VENOM IS AVAILABLE IN THE REGION....AND WHEN YOU GET STUNG....THERE'S NO QUESTION YOU NEED HELP RIGHT AWAY. SO AT LEAST PEOPLE ARE REACTING FAST AFTER THE FACT.
I HAVE A WOOD CARVING OF A RATTLE SNAKE IN OUR STORE, THAT WAS APPARENTLY CARVED BY A CRAFTSMAN IN BALA, A NUMBER OF YEARS AGO. I THOUGHT PEOPLE WOULD OBJECT TO IT SITTING PROMINENTLY IN THE SHOP, BUT SO FAR, THERE HAVE ONLY BEEN GOOD AND POSITIVE COMMENTS. I'VE SEEN PARENTS SHOWING KIDS THE DETAILS OF THE SNAKE SKIN, CARVED INTO THE WOOD......AND I CERTAINLY HAVEN'T SEEN ANYTHING THAT LOOKS LIKE FEAR. I ALWAYS GIVE IT A SECOND LOOK, JUST IN CASE, LIKE IN A HOLLYWOOD HORROR FLICK, THE LITTLE SUCKER MAGICALLY COMES TO LIFE.
YOU MUST NOT KILL A MASSASSAUGA RATTLER. IT IS ON THE ENDANGERED SPECIES LIST. BUT DON'T KILL SNAKES AT ALL. AS I'VE STATED ABOUT MACTIER.....THERE WERE, AND I IMAGINE THERE STILL ARE, SITUATIONS THAT DEMAND SPEEDY REACTION TO A DANGEROUS LIAISON IN A RESIDENTIAL CIRCUMSTANCE.
I'M NOT EVER GOING TO SAY, I WAS GLAD THAT LORNA AND JOYCE GAVE ME MY FIRST, FACE TO FACE MEETING WITH A MASSASSAUGA RATTLER.....BUT THEY CERTAINLY DID ME NO HARM. I KNOW WHAT TO WATCH AND LISTEN FOR, WHEN WALKING THROUGH THE BUSH.
AND SPEAKING OF NOISE......YOU'D BE HARD PRESSED TO HEAR A RATTLER AROUND HERE....BECAUSE OF THE NOISE POLLUTION......FROM THE NEIGHBORS WHO NEED A RIDING MOWER TO CUT A POSTAGE STAMP SIZED LOT; OR THE HOBBY CARPENTERS WHO CUT WOOD WELL INTO THE NIGHT......AND THE FIREWORKS COMPULSIVES, WHO CELEBRATE THE DAYS OF THE WEEK WITH BIG AND SUCCESSIVE BANGS....NOT JUST ON THE 24TH OF MAY, IN HONOR OF QUEEN VICTORIA; AND ON CANADA DAY. SO HERE'S MY GENTLE RANT ABOUT TOO MUCH SOUND OF THE HUMAN KIND, BLOCKING OUT THE BEAUTIFUL NATURAL SOUNDS OF OUR LAKELAND.
THE NOISE OF THE URBAN ENVIRONS - AND THE LOST SHRILL OF THE LOON
There are operations near us, here at Birch Hollow, that are intrusive noise makers. There are times when you expect some rogue train to come barreling through the woodlands, coming from this local institution. I try to imagine what could create such a terrible racket, if not a train. I wonder if the management of said institution has any idea what their equipment sounds like, in the neighborhood, and in the vicinity. There have been some earth moving activities, or so it sounds, these past few days, and the first time I heard it, I ran over to The Bog to make sure a bulldozer wasn't plowing through the lowland.
Early this morning, before the neighborhood pre-occupation with leaf blowers, riding mowers, assorted rough-shape lawn mowers and chainsaws, you could hear the gentle tinkling down of run-off water, over two or three crystalline cataracts. The matting of grass and overgrown trees puts these water courses, out of view but what a wonderful sound it is, to hear the life force moving through the landscape, like blood pulsing through our veins. I heard a loon's shrill cry. A small woodpecker was tapping away at an old pine. The sound of the wind, rustling the old field grasses, made it seem pleasantly haunted. But I had only just emerged from the woodlands, when the first lawn mower of the day started up. Then there was the guy who idles his car for a half hour, somewhere on the next street. Even as I sit at my desk, two hours later, there is still a lawnmower in full regalia, close enough to be intrusive. Last night, as I sat down to read Wayland Drew's book, "Brown's Weir," a charming little book, with an east coast patina, that he wrote with his wife and creative partner, Gwen,…. a neighbor, with a postage-stamp lawn, fired-up his riding mower (which sounds like three smaller mowers), and did the rounds before sunset. I had to put the book down. It wasn't right, to have a rattling lawnmower intrude upon an ocean-side paradise, of which Wayland writes about.
When we first arrived on Segwun Boulevard, in the late 1980's, we reacted with great interest, to the sounds of nature. It was a paradise, as far as we were concerned. We were in town but with the Bog, as a green belt, nature was definitely a buffer from the usual urban chaos. It was great. But nothing prepared us for the sounds of explosions, gun-fire, and sundry other strange noises, including screams, that should have drawn interest from everybody on the block. We'd run out of the house, sensing that a neighbor's home had been blown to smithereens, and find nary a puff of smoke or the audience we would have expected under the circumstances. Some clown would shoot at something or other, a half block away, and sometimes we'd be out for a walk at the time. We'd duck in case a bullet was coming over-land. You could never find where the sound was coming from, as if someone was actually shooting from an open window in a house. What we found particularly strange was that nobody seemed to worry about this stuff. An explosion would literally shake the house and its contents, and yet there was no construction going on near us. It used to happen in the early evening. It was unsettling. Now we find ourselves used to these intrusions, and unless we're out of doors at the time, we don't even look to see if there's any carnage to validate that an explosion just occurred.
People here don't give much thought to noise pollution. But in most garden sheds along the street, throughout the neighborhood, there are arsenals of noise intruders from leaf blowers to weed whackers, chainsaws to log splitters, and then there are the wood chippers. Through the day there are construction projects abounding in this bailiwick, all having some intrusive quality, mixed with the power mowers and massive boat engines churning the water of Muskoka Bay. It may seem petty that this is an issue for us purists. But when you realize what sounds these devices are blocking out…..well, that's unfortunate, because they are the sounds of life forces, and they need to be heard. The noise impacts nature generally…..not just the sensitive ears of the mortals.
For a few moments this morning, there were no thunderous dump trunks smashing down the lane. The earth movers were silent, and there was no vehicular traffic. A dog was barking somewhere close and a mother had not yet begun to scream at her youngsters. That would come in the moments before leaving for school. There were no slamming doors, no chainsaws or leaf blowers. No horns, no sirens. And there was a loon. The brush of limbs ruffled by two squirrels. Two venerable old crows cackled above, and I think I heard the sound of a deer brushing through the shrubs on the other side of the Bog. These are the sounds I seek out, and find so restorative. By nine this morning, it was a neighborhood of oppressive urban harmony, as if I was back in my Toronto rooming house, of years ago, listening to buses and feeling the vibration of the nearby subway, hearing the chorus of jackhammers, horns, yelling and yes….explosions of one sort or another. Most people here don't care if they hear the hoot of an owl, the cry of the loon, the tap of the woodpecker, and wouldn't find it interesting at all to listen to these tiny cataracts of water, as they send water down to the lake. What a wonderful din nature provides. Now my neighbor has employed a weed whacker, one of the most annoying species of modern noise making.
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