Thursday, April 24, 2008

Listening to the Jays, Again

One of my very first posts to this blog was about a snake I caught just a glimpse of after belatedly realizing the shrill alarms of the blue jays in the backyard actually signified something.

Today, when jays, wrens and even a few feathered thugs went into a frenzy in the big cedar at the back of the yard, I was a little quicker on the uptake. Grabbed my camera and headed out the back gate and ....

Stood there, looking dumbly around my feet, for whatever was making the birds so nervous. Finally, I turned my eyes skyward, and there it was: a long, shiny, mostly black form draped across several green-needled branches.

The Texas Rat Snake (Elaphe obsoleta lindheimeri), also commonly called a "chicken snake" is quite common through much of the state, and its presence near the top of a tree is explained by a taste for eggs and baby birds. And that, in turn, explains the mobbing behavior of adult birds programmed to protect their nests.

Rat snakes can be quite beneficial, as they are voracious eaters and small rodents feature prominently in their diets. They subdue prey by constriction.

Unlike the closely related Corn snakes of the North American pet trade, rat snakes are nasty-tempered creatures. Not venomous, but certainly toothy. Even knowing this, today I actually walked back to the house for a rake, thinking I would be able to dislodge the snake and capture it.

My brother, John, who shares my interest in herps -- in fact has taken it much further than I ever did -- says "not a chance."

"I once climbed 25' in an oak tree chasing one," he e-mailed today. "Once you do find one you can catch, you will get bitten, you will bleed and it will shit all over you as it thrashes it's tail."

By the time I returned to the tree, the snake was gone or successfully hidden. Lucky me, eh?

Missing, Presumed Eaten

I hate to say it, but I don't think Leo is coming back.

Leo's a male Yorkshire terrier, and his name is scrawled on a large, neon poster taped to the streetlight down at the corner. The Yorkie joins a pair of Lhasa apsos and at least a brace of beloved cats in the neighborhood's milk carton gallery. All this in the past couple of weeks.

I'm pretty sure we're not dealing with a ring of sneaky, sadistic pet thieves. What all these animals have in common are two things: size (small, some might even say "snack" size) and proximity to one or or more of the floodplain greenbelts in the area.

While walking Pete over the weekend, Tamara met a neighbor walking her own dog, and she mentioned that she's been hearing coyotes lately.

Lately? I've heard them off and on since we moved in last summer.

A study in Chicago found that domestic cats make up only a bit more than one percent of urban coyotes' diets; small rodents top the list for prairie wolves in the city, just as they do in rural areas, followed by fruit and deer (each coming in at less than a quarter of the food items found in coyote scat). According to this study, coyotes ate more grass than cats.

In Los Angeles County, local authorities warn residents to keep their cats indoors: "Keep small pets (cats, rabbits, small dogs) indoors. Don't allow them to run free at any time. They are easy, favored prey. Some coyotes hunt cats in residential areas. "

What everyone agrees on is that coyotes are among the most adaptable predators in the world, and there are more now -- in more places -- than there were 200 years ago, despite extensive efforts to control the species.

Coyotes breed in Feb. and March, giving birth to litters of 3-12 pups about two months later. So, we're entering the high food demand period for the wild dogs -- a time when kitties and ankle-nippers look particularly tasty.

Pets are definitely on the menu in Austin.

Here's one of my favorite news ledes ever, in a recent Austin American-Statesman story by Claire Osborne:

Thor, a Chihuahua, barked as he charged out to his Shoal Creek backyard about 3 a.m. on a January morning. That was the last time his owner, Kay Aielli, saw him.

Maybe it's just the juxtaposition of that name, Thor, and the word chihuahua.

In the same story, Randy Farrar, a biologist with the Texas Agrilife Extension Service -- Wildlife Services (and all-around okay guy), joined a City of Austin animal services official in blaming an abundance of available pet food for the recent rash of puppy snatchings in central Austin.

Farrar agreed, saying that coyote droppings he recently found in the area were "100 percent pet food."

"The last coyote I caught was a female on Feb. 19 that weighed 33 pounds, which is pretty large," Farrar said. "She looked well-fed."


Well, yeah ... Chihuahuas can go, what, 7-10 pounds apiece? I guess the definition of "pet food" depends on how you parse those sentences.

Rest in peace, little Leo. And Thor. And Mr. Jingles.

But don't blame the coyotes. They're just doing what they do -- what they've always done -- and we've only made it easier for them, bringing the supermarket to their doorsteps.

[Okay, just so you know, I don't really think it's funny that anyone has lost a beloved family pet. The little girl who knocked on our door, passing out flyers asking for information on her cat, was near tears, three days after the feline disappeared. And I love dogs. I love big dogs more, and Pete's a brute so I don't much worry about him getting snatched, but I do love dogs. I do think it's rather amusing that folks are actually shocked that coyotes are prowling our neighborhoods and preying on animals smaller than them. They're, you know, predators. Second photo by Steve Jurvetson. Photos licensed under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 License]