The thing about southern California weather is that
it’s… well… VARIABLE.
“Unpredictable” would be another good word
that comes to mind. Yesterday, here in the canyon, it was
foggy, cold, windy and the heavy, dark gray clouds
unleashed some much needed rain. But, today, the sun is
shining, hardly a breeze is stirring, insects and birds
are winging their way through blue skies filled with puffy
white clouds.
One of my favorite occasional pastimes is to go back into
my photo archives and see what was happening in my world
on that same day in previous years. As I’ve been a
bit busy lately and not able to find much time for
wandering around with my camera, I thought I might share a
few stories with you from a past February…
February 13, 2009: Dusting of snow on the foothills above
our home.
Snow!!! OK, OK, I know many of you who live in
cold-weather states are laughing at my excitement over
this admittedly light dusting of the white stuff. But,
these foothills just above our home are only about 2000
ft. in elevation and it rarely gets cold enough at that
altitude for snow of any kind. In the seven years that
I’ve lived here, I could count on one hand the days
that I’ve seen snow in the hills. As I recall, there
was deep fog and clouds blanketing the canyon for most of
the day, obscuring much of anything from view. Near sunset
(as is often the case), the light finally broke through
the cloud layer and the fog rolled away revealing this
beautiful backdrop. Needless to say, I immediately put on
my shoes and set out for a nice long walk up the fire road
behind our house. I took many photos and tried to absorb
as much of this unique February afternoon as I could. As I
headed home for the evening, the snow was already
disappearing fast…
February 25, 2009: Juvenile Southern Pacific
Rattlesnake (Crotalus oreganus helleri)
*Be sure to click on the image to see a close-up of
this beautiful snake!*
Snake!!! Yup. For those of you who thought that late
February was not “rattlesnake weather” — think again! It
was a mere two weeks after the aforementioned snowy day
and the sun was shining brightly, but temps were still
quite cool (a high of 60° according to the weather
archives I looked at). In any event, I certainly was not
thinking about the possibility of basking snakes. In fact,
I wasn’t watching the ground at all as I walked down
the small path that leads behind our cabin. But, via some
sort of sixth sense, I suddenly felt compelled to look
down. With one foot still hovering in mid-air, I froze in
that position, trying to process the realization that
there was a rattlesnake head directly below the impending
trajectory of my shoe. The juvenile snake had been
stretched across part of the pathway, its tail end
obscured in the grass. (So, it was not quite as glaringly
obvious as the position shown in the photo, which was
taken several minutes after the initial ordeal.) I
literally hopped backwards a few times — balancing on one
foot! — and then slowly made my way around the still
motionless snake, giving it a very wide berth.
Some of you might be thinking,
“What?! It didn’t strike at you?” or
“What?! Didn’t you hear it rattling first?”
After many years now of regular encounters with
rattlesnakes, I have formed two distinct
impressions… First, they are shy and not easily
stirred to aggression. I do not believe that one would
strike unless they felt they had no other choice.
(Frankly, in this case, I think the snake had every right
to try and bite me, considering that my foot was on a
collision course with its head — but for whatever reason,
it didn’t. Too cold for such a quick response,
maybe?) Second, despite their reputation for rattling, I
have rarely heard them actually do this, even when
approached very closely. There have only been two times
that I’ve heard them rattle. Once, when one was
being cornered and then lifted with a snake handling tool
to be relocated, and then another time when I encountered
one half-way out of an abandoned mammal hole.
(Ground squirrel? skunk? gopher?) It quickly
retreated into the hole and then continued to rattle at me
for a really long time… I’m still uncertain as to why.
My guess is that it was feeling especially vulnerable.
(Perhaps it was mid-way through digesting a big meal?
In the process of shedding its skin?)
Whatever its reasons were, I was especially wary and
careful around that area for several days following, as
I had no desire to startle that particularly sensitive
rattlesnake again.
Southern California is sometimes an overwhelmingly hot
and uncomfortable place to live, and, yes, we
do have annual high winds, many devastating wildfires
and the occasional earthquake. But, there is simply no
denying the truly marvelous moments that I have had
living here… especially the unexpected ones such
as these.
(If you would like to know more about the local species
of rattlesnake, please check out
this great page
of photos, videos, sound clips and fascinating info from
the brilliant website,
California Herps. I cannot speak highly enough about this wonderful
regional resource for learning more about amphibians and
reptiles!)
