Dryocopus pileatus,The Pileated Woodpecker

Identification: Around 18 inches long, black feathers with white under the wings, white stripes on the neck, and a pointed red crest. The males also have a red mustache.

The Pileated Woodpecker; an Exceptional Bird.

All woodpeckers are nice. There's something quaintly endearing about smacking one's face into a tree day in and day out. Furthermore, they tend to be presentable birds, donning various combinations of black, white, and red feathers to good effect. True, some add yellows and browns, but always tastefully. Of these already likable avifauna, the pileated is the stand out specimen. His size alone sets him apart from others, and his brilliant red crest provides an easily recognized mark of distinction.

Outwitting the Fates

If my theory is to be believed, the pileated woodpecker should not even exist. Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself. To better support this bold claim, I'll provide some background.

After a life spent familiarizing oneself with the natural world, it often follows that one develops not only a deep reservoir of factual knowledge, but also some ideas about the underlying trends, patterns, or rules shaping the universe. Newton discovered gravity. Darwin helped launch the much maligned theory of evolution.

Although I'm no Darwin, I have made a few observations about one peculiar pattern that seems to hold sway in the animal kingdom. It goes something like this:

The more interesting a species, the greater its probability of being extinct.

It's true, the natural inclination is to dismiss this as a facile platitude. Does blue whale not chug along in the depths? Are not the sloths in the trees? Does chubby nerpa not cheerfully navigate the cool waters of Lake Baikal? Please, carefully consider my arguement, and do not let these colorful outliers becloud your judgement. Consider:

Animal Status

Tyrannosaurus Rex: Extinct
Giant Sloth: Extinct
The Dodo: Extinct
Giant Wombat: Extinct
Marsupial Lion: Extinct
Elephant Bird: Extinct
Triceratops: Extinct
Megalodon: Extinct
Saber Tooth Tiger: Extinct
Flesh Eating Kangaroos: Extinct
Sphinx: Extinct/Never existed

I do not wish to belabor the point. My gist is this; a reasonable man should no more expect to see a giant woodpecker with a blazing crest allight on the branches of the temperate deciduous forest, than he should have to worry about velociraptors devouring his young. Yet the pileated woodpecker persists. How is this? I will tell you. Although magnificent, the pileated is nonetheless the drab cousin of two more flamboyant woodpeckers. The raven sized Imperial Woodpecker dwarfed his pileated brethren for centuries before departing this world for good. The Ivory-billed woodpecker outdid the pileated in size, striking plumage and elegance of beak. If he has not yet vanished from the North American forests, his continued existence is certainly far more precarious than that of the pileated. Thus the pileated woodpecker has managed to escape so far the cruel wrath of mother nature, who hews her fairest children that they might not too long stand above the rest in a very mixed perhaps unworkable metaphorical sense.
Numbers alone have been in his favor. Had he not been blessed with two more glorious cousins to slake the jealous appetite of wondrous Nature who suffers not the exquisite to dwell long on the earth, he too would surely have met his end. For now, the day of reckoning is delayed.

In General

Although these higher truths should always be the end of our inquiries, one does well to master the more trivial information pertaining to any beast, tedious as this may seem. The pileated woodpecker loves to eat ants. He bores massive holes. He prefers older taller trees, and can often be spotted with his mate. A true gentleman, he mates for life. He is particularly at risk from larger owls, and destruction of habitat. On Christmas Eve he can speak in the tongues of man.*




*not yet confirmed by scientific observation.

Rana catesbeiana; The American Bullfrog

Identification: This is the most massive frog around. It can get to be about 8 inches long and weigh over a pound. The females are larger than males. The coloration can vary from all green, to green with brown, to blotchy, to mostly brownish with some green etc. The bullfrog primarily frequents ponds. He's not too picky, and almost any little patch of water will do. Even if it's a nasty drainage ditch, you're likely to find a few of his ilk sitting about. At night you can listen for his deep and very loud call. To me it sounds sort of like "rerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrp".

The Bullfrog; a Frog I Once Ate

I've long enjoyed the idyllic pursuits of fishing and crabbing. I suppose at heart I'm a sort of quaint waterfolk. Left to my own devices I might end up spending days at a time holding a cane pole, wearing rubber boots, and perhaps smoking a corncob pipe beside a lazy stream. Very rarely have I engaged in the active pursuit of hunting animals that spend part of their day on land. Only twice have i sought semiaquatic quarry. Once I attempted to hunt a Peking duck, but ended up befriending him and forming a lasting relationship. My second hunting excursion was more successfull, and this was for none other than the bullfrog.

During the heady days of my early twenties, I received a suggestion from the woman who would later become my wife that we catch bullfrogs and eat their legs. Needless to say, I was eager to impress this co-ed. We were not yet dating, and I considered this an ideal opportunity to establish myself as a competent provider.

We quickly secured some frogging spears from a neighbor and headed to a nearby pond. It was after dark, and the pond featured an abundance of bullfrogs. It soon became clear that spearing frogs is incredibly easy. Within minutes we had gathered a substantial ranid for each member of our party. Now it was time to cook them.

I'm a fairly adventurous eater. True, I've never had that Ethiopian dish where a quail is cooked inside a rabbit inside a chicken inside a goat inside a pig inside a camel, or however the order goes. Nevertheless, I'll try almost anything once. Frog legs turned out to be a great disappointment; perhaps not as great as that experienced by the Millerites in 1844, but still a notable failure to meet expectations. Don't listen when people say it tastes like chicken. That's only half true. It tastes like chicken and crab mixed together. And not in a fun chicken chesapeake novelty way. No, this is more like a male crab one day dallied with a hen, who dutifully sat on her eggs until hatching a half crab half chicken abomination. This unnatural heir retains some elements of his invertebrate father, and some of his avian mother, yet tastes nowhere near as good as either. It's probably even worse than alligator tail, which tastes like a repulsive blend of chicken and fish, no matter how much you cover it with crispy breading.

Bullfrogs; a Frog that Violates Expectations

While my culinary adventures may seem trivial or even tedious to some, they provide a nice segue into my next theme. Just as one expects a traditional french dish such as frog legs to be delicious, only to find it tastes like unfortunate crab-chicken hybrid, one who studies the bullfrog will often be astounded by how he defies conventional wisdom.

First of all, the bullfrog has teeth. I always thought of amphibians as gummy mouthed sorts with little need for teeth. Then again, maybe I'm the only one who finds this unexpected. The more I contemplate a soft jawed salamander who's bite feels like a gentle massage, the sillier my early assumptions seem. So maybe you expected teeth. But the bullfrog has them on the roof of his mouth. That's unusual isn't it?

Secondly, the bullfrogs diet is much more diverse than I would have thought. Perhaps I am a bit bigotted towards frogs, as I never thought to question the lilypad sitting, using the tongue to catch flies stereotype. The bullfrog may rest on the odd lily pad, but he's an aggressive sort who ambushes almost anything. He'll eat fish, other frogs, even mice if they get too close.

Finally, the bullfrog surprises me by taking his sweet time turning from a tadpole into a mature frog. When I was little, I lived in England, and went to the english eqivalent of kindergarten, called "infants one." In my infants one class, my teacher took us for a nature walk, caught some tadpoles, and kept them in a jar. It wasn't too many weeks before these were sprouting legs, and getting on with the whole frog stage of life. It seems again, that frogs vary greatly. While a Bullfrog in warmer climes can make the transition in a few months, others might take up to two years.

A bullfrog on a lily pad: no doubt enjoying himself, but failing to challenge society's restrictive stereotypes

Agkistrodon Contortrix Mokasen; The Northern Copperhead

Identification: A brown snake normally around 30" long with darker bands. The body is moderately thick, the head somewhat "triangular" and the eyes elliptical. Several other snakes look somewhat similar, including the very common northern watersnake. To clearly identify the snake as a copperhead, look at lots of pictures of copperheads on the internet until you are good at it. Getting close enough to oggle his eyeballs for the elliptical pupil is not advised by me, although some maintain it can be done at a safe distance.

The Copperhead; A Snake who Might Bite you

As with most of nature's more undesirable occurrences, like lightning strikes and death by great white, you probably won't be bitten by a copperhead. However, you shouldn't completely rule out the possibility. I myself narrowly escaped a copperhead bite two years ago. I saw the serpent wiggling across the road, and without pausing to identify the species, i stopped my car, jumped out, and reached down to grab him. My fingers where about 4 inches away when I saw the snake was none other than the infamous Mokasen. I pulled my hand away. The snake struck. His fangs missed. I retreated to the car. If a movie is made of my life, this particular scene would be slow motion. Perhaps artistic embellishment would involve the fangs grazing my fingertips, yet failing to penetrate. It would be incredibly moving and suspenseful.

The point of this reminiscence is that not even a seasoned naturalist is entirely safe from the Copperhead. Indeed, he bites more people each year than any other poisonous snake in America.

The Copperhead Bite; What is it Like?

In a word; terrible. The copperhead is venomous, but not all venomous snakes are alike. In general, there are two types of venom. The first type is the neurotoxic venoms. These effect your nervous system, and are found in reptiles such as coral snakes and cobras. A neurotoxic snake may be deadly, but it's bite might not actually hurt at first. The other type of snake venom is hemotoxic. This type breaks down tissues such as muscles. While the hemotoxin of various snakes can differ in potency, they are all extremely painful. The Copperhead's venom is a hemotoxin. If he bites you, the pain will be remarkable. You are unlikely to die, but it will hurt a lot. There may be swelling, scarring, and perhaps the loss of whatever area was struck if you are unlucky. Usually, people only die from copperheads if they have the misfortune to encounter multiple snakes and receive multiple bites. Try to avoid this. If bitten, try to stay calm. You might get lucky, and the snake will not inject any venom. Even so, imobilize the wound as much as possible, and get to a hospital as quick as you can. In the best case, an ambulance could be called, and you could be transported. In any event, you want to move your body as little as possible after a bite while getting to treatment.

The Copperhead; Does he Want to Bite You?

I've combed the litertature seeking a definitive answer to this question, and I confess I am still undecided. Many of our animal friends loathe confrontation, and will scurry away given the opportunity. A skunk would probably rather not spray you. Even a grizzly bear will normally avoid you if he knows you're around. But there are a few unsavories out there that just like to mix it up. Pomatomus Saltatrix, the bluefish is a prime example. He lives to bite whatever poor soul swims too close.
So where does the copperhead fall on this spectrum? I'd have to say in the middle. Should you happen upon him, he's not guaranteed to take pains to avoid you. Different studies have shown different results, with some copperheads tending to slither away from larger animals, and others deciding to stay put. As far as I can tell, many mokasens are devil-may-care chaps who would just as soon stay in place and bite your ankle, as prudently move to avoid being trampled. On the other hand, the copperhead isn't overly antisocial. He won't normally drop down on you from a tree limb, or pretend to be your walking stick.

Does he Smell Like Cucumbers?

Probably not. A kind reader has shared in the comments section that this alleged smell may come from the environment of his den. However, in your efforts not to step on a concealed copperhead, please don't let everything hang upon fleeing the odor of garden salads.

Neovison Vison; The American Mink

Identification: The American Mink is slim and weasel-shaped. He has luxurious dark brown fur with a white patch under the chin. From nose to tail they tend to be about 25 inches. They are excellent swimmers, and tend to be sighted near water.

The Mink and his Family; Good things in Small Packages

The mink belongs to a family of mammals known as mustelids. Some of his cousins include weasels, ferrets, wolverines, and badgers. I will readily admit to feeling a warm kinship with the mustelids, based on my diminutive stature. Although in this age of inclusive language and feel-good education the vertically challenged among us are not often explicitly disparaged, we sometimes find the smiles of fortune a bit diminished when cast our way. Although we at times break into the ranks of CEOs, prom kings, and other objects of public idolatry, in general we confront an unwitting conspiracy; occupying in the collective subconscious the less glamorous roles of sidekicks, comic relief, and sub par intellects. Now I'm not one to complain. Few characters provoke revulsion quite as readily as the disgruntled short man; the one with the "Napoleon complex," the one others assume is "compensating." I on the other hand, am normally content with the hand dealt me.

In the same way, many small animals are not without charm. A chipmunk will always bring a smile to my face. A bunny rabbit has no shortage of appeal. I would not scoff at a hamster.

Nevertheless, at times even the most docile among us feel less than resigned to our fate. Like Captain Ahab, we are tempted to wreak our hate on that inscrutable object, rebelling even against nature herself. Happily, mother nature has provided a solution. Every so often a Bruce Lee or Tony Jaa comes along to assure us that with a little discipline and self denial, we too could beat up NBA basketball players and handily defend ourselves from forty armed attackers. If we are not badasses, it is only because we choose not to be such. This in mind, we need not wreck the pequods that are our lives in vain striving.

In the animal kingdom, the mustelids are somewhat like this. They are small, yet ferocious. A weasel-like polecat might not be much more than two pounds, but he will take time out of his day to kill off a full grown adult human; provided she happens to be an overbearing governess for a sickly English boy (if the account in Sredni Vashtar is to be believed). The beagle-sized wolverine has been known to slay moose, and although typically unsuccessful, is not averse to giving a duel with a black bear the old college try. Mustelids are tough, athletic, and fierce hunters. The American Mink is no exception.

Behavior and Characteristics

The american mink lives mostly around water. He tends to be out and about in the evening hours, when he's typically not an easy one to spot. He'll eat fish and frogs, then climb out of the water and go catch a rabbit. Not only is he tough, he's also highly intelligent. Mink are smarter than cats, which is pretty good as animals go. He's not going to be discovering cold fusion, or threatening our jobs in the knowledge economy any time soon, but he's no slouch. Again, you could definitely beat him in trivial pursuit, but he's got what it takes to outsmart and catch dullards such as voles.

His Fur; Should you Wear it?

If you've spent any time around the mink you know he is incredibly handsome. Slender, well dressed in elegant fur, it's no wonder we envy his outergarmets. I'm not one to preach. You won't catch me on a corner downtown dumping paint on furclad old women. If we were all subsistence farmers and hunter gatherers I would have no problem whatsoever with dressing up in mink fur. However, in this day and age it is not practical or environmentally sound to be trapping huge numbers of wild mink to make fur coats. The only alternative is farming. Farming mink has one possible pernicious ramification that renders it thoroughly distasteful to me. This is that farmed mink have the potential to become a bit more docile, and less intelligent. While the existence of this phenomenon is disputed (so please read the research and make up your own mind; don't take my word for it), the possibility is enough to repulse me. Seeing a fierce and brilliant predator degraded is not a pleasant prospect to me. That's just me. I won't judge others. But no mink coats for me.

Further Reading

Vison, the Mink

Moby Dick (Oxford World's Classics)

Northeast Oddities; the Chincoteague Pony

If the Chincoteague Pony actually looked like this it might be interesting.

Identification: Oh no somebody stop the press, it's a horse and it lives outside.

Should you be in the northeastern United States, and develop an interest in wildlife, you will find that Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge is a fantastic place to view all kinds of birds, fish, and reptiles. It's a site well worth visiting. However, the most boring possible reason to visit is to see the ponies. Despite looking like horses, acting like horses, and not doing anything interesting at all except swim once a year, these ponies remain the park's star attraction.
Have you ever driven past a farm and seen a horse? Was it the thrill of a lifetime? Was it a check mark on the things-to-see before I die list? For some reason, if that same horse had been walking around a national park some awestruck passerby would be staring and pointing right now (Yes, I know that they are ponies, slightly different from your average horse).
Once I saw escaped feral bulls that lived in a dump. That was interesting due to the element of danger involved. Had they been ponies, it would have been a total snoozer.

Recently, I had this conversation with a young man who frequented the Island of Chincoteague. He attempted to equate the vulgar pursuit of horse watching, with the much higher avocation of birdwatching. His point I assume was something along the lines of digustibus non est disputandum, some like horses some like birds, some say toMAYto some say toMAHto, etc. It's a seductive argument I concede, one perfectly suited to this age of nihilism and moral relativism. However, one need not dig too deeply to discover its flaws. A brief round of socratic questioning will suffice:

Have you ever seen a pony fly? Have you seen a pony with a scarlet red body and black wings? Can ponies sing? Have you ever seen a pony dive into the sea from one hundred feet in the air, submerge itself completely , then fly away clutching a young striped bass? Have you ever seen a pony feast on the flesh of the dead?

I think not. Please don't try to argue that people can ride ponies. I think we've all seen The Swiss Family Robinson, and can attest to the fact that riding an ostrich is far better.

The Common Snapping Turtle; Chelydra serpentina

Identification: The Common Snapping Turtle is the largest turtle you are likely to see in northeastern ponds, lakes, and streams. It can have a shell length of about 20 inches. It's got a thick head and a strong sharp beak of a mouth. The feet are webbed and clawed. The turtle has brown shell with pointed ridges at the back, and a longish tail. It's not what one would call a friendly turtle.

Snappers; Can They Bite off your Fingers? Will They?

It is true, a common snapper has a strong bite, and could theoretically take off your fingers. You should not let this trouble you, as biting off your fingers is not at the top off any snapping turtle's daily to-do list. I have encountered many snapping turtles, and have found that they invariably swim away when you get near them. The only scenario where a snapper is likely to inflict a wound is one in which you attempt to handle him. Which brings us to our next sub-heading.

Snappers; How do you Handle them? Should you Handle them?

Snapping turtles don't take kindly to being pestered. If you try and pick one up, or touch one, it will most likely try and bite you. They have a surprisingly long neck, and can reach almost all they way back over their shells to snap you. They also have sharp claws, and will rake these against you in attempt to get away. These turtles are very powerful; you should not underestimate them. The best choice is to leave them alone. Let them go their own way. There is really only one scenario in which you may want to handle a snapper. That is when you find one stuck in the middle of the road, and you are concerned for it's safety. If you feel driven to play good Samaritan to a stranded snapper, the best way to go about it is to gently nudge it along with some kind of longish implement. A broom, a branch, a shovel, all these will do the trick. With a shovel you could even hasten its journey by gently scooping. If time is of the essence, and the road is busy, you may be forced to deal with the turtle manually. For this, will want to grab it by the very back of the shell, just behind the two rear legs. Don't try and hoist it too high, and don't let your fingers creep up. It will try and bite you.

DO NOT attempt pick up the snapper by it's tail. While this might protect you from getting bitten, it will hurt the turtle. It's worse than picking up a cat by it's tail. Once again, your best approach is to leave the turtle alone if possible.

Snappers; Diet and Attitude

Snapping turtles will eat just about anything that moves. A life long fisherman, I've accidentally hooked snapping turtles on every single type of bait I've used. This includes minnows, worms, salamanders, bread, and even chicken necks. I'm pretty sure they like frogs too, and obviously I found a picture of one eating a water snake. If you accidentally hook a snapping turtle while fishing, you will first think, "my line is stuck." As you pull forcefully and feel the line start to move you will then think "I guess I hooked a log and am hauling it in." Then, at the last minute a terrible looking turtle will pop out of the water snapping it's jaws all over in a menacing fashion. At this point you will be forced to cut the line.

As I mentioned before, snapping turtles do not have the sunniest disposition. Although they avoid humans because we are huge compared to them, they act like jerks any time they can get away with it. I once saw a snapping turtle try and bite a rabbit. The rabbit was grazing about six feet from the water's edge and the turtle climbed out of the pond to try and eat him. Obviously, the rabbit ran away before the snapper made it across the grass, but you have to respect the effort.

Snappers; Why do They Cross the Road?

Once you develop the capacity to easily identify snapping turtles, you will from time to time notice that they cross the road. Other turtles do this too, and it's not the best idea for an organism that moves about .065 miles an hour (estimated). I'm fairly certain they do this to lay their eggs. Did I research this fact? No I didn't. I could be completely wrong. It seems like a good guess, because I've notice that they tend to this in increased numbers at certain times of the year. I accidentally hit a snapper crossing the road once, and I felt awful. I only hit it because at least 12 snappers were crossing at one time, and I couldn't miss all of them. I am sincere when I wish that this never happens to you.

Vulpes Vulpes; The Red Fox

Identification: The red fox often has reddish orange fur with a white underbelly, and a white spot on the tip of the tail. There is variation between animals with some more grayish, some more brownish, and others in between. Some individuals are called "silver" which is supposed to be fancy, but looks pretty much like gray to me. There is also a gray fox, which is a different species. Here I will focus on the red fox, who in my opinion looks best when he is very red.

An adult red fox can be up to around 30 inches long, and weigh around 20 lbs. It's always worth taking time out of your day to look at a fox.

The red fox is nothing if not interesting. His red fur is striking, and his movements astounding in their agility. The fox is a member of the Canidae family, so he's related to dogs and wolves. However, he manages to maintain his distance and intrigue despite a long association and frequent contact with humans. We know our dogs. They share our homes, providing comfort and companionship. After being raised on The Three Little Pigs, and Little Red Riding hood, most of us also feel pretty confident in our horrifyingly inaccurate views of the wolf. But the fox, well he's a sly one.

The Fox and I, a Personal History

I manage to see foxes a lot these days. Yet it was not always so. For the first twenty years of my life, I suffered a marked dearth of foxes. So many times someone said, "Oh look, there's a fox." I turned, and alas saw nothing. As a child I remember waking up on a snow day and my mother saying, "a fox just walked across the yard and climbed the fence." I looked out over the yard for as many minutes as my four year old brain would allow before despairing of ever witnessing this sight myself (probably at least 30 seconds).

In college I was told that a fox lived on campus, just near the pond, and came out frequently for an evening stroll. I parked myself by his alleged den every night for a week, yet caught not so much as a glimpse of my furry friend. In torment, i composed a poem about looking for a fox without finding him. It was filled with angst, addressing the fox by his Latin name, and full of passages about "awaiting." Had I not possessed the good sense to burn my notebook during senior week revelry, I would surely have been haunted by extreme embarrassment for years upon its rereading.

Habits and Idiosyncrasies

I have some valuable and fascinating insights into the nature of foxness, however one could argue that these are entirely without scientific merit. So before moving on to these, I'll touch on a few of the most important hard facts about the canid.

1) A true nimrod, the fox will stalk, kill, and eat a wide variety of his animal brethren. He'll munch on a crayfish, steal a hen from the henhouse, or dine on a rabbit. Like us, he's an omnivore, and won't turn his nose up at a few berries with his meat.

2) The fox is Crepuscular. This means he hunts mostly around dawn or dusk. It's a valuable word to know. The best time to throw out the term Crepuscular is when another amateur naturalist is threatening to steal your show by telling everyone an animal in question is nocturnal. E.G. "Well Peter, I hate to nit-pick, but wouldn't it be more precise to say Spilogale putorius is Crepuscular?"

3) Despite being in the dog family, we call fox babies "kits," not puppies. A mother fox will wound prey, and bring it back to her young kits to train them as hunters. A grim type of play indeed, but all the same essential to future survival.

Part II. Literary Character and Aesthetics

This is where foxes truly shine. There are a lot of decent predators out there, but none have developed the same reputation for cleverness. Aside from that anomalous specimen immortalized for adopting airs when failing to secure grapes, foxes generally come out ahead by relying on their wit. I can see how this might happen, elude a few farmers, sneak off with their hens, and over time you develop a reputation for cunning ingenuity. What I don't quite comprehend is how the fox is able to spin this trait to his advantage, avoiding the fate of his cousin the wolf.

The Fox vs. the Wolf; a Brief Study in Contrasts

How does the fox do it? He slaughters chickens, gobbles up bunnies, and still comes off as an urbane, gentlemanly sort. We recognize he might slay poultry, but find ourselves willing to forgive his irrepressible care free nature, because after all, he's just so slick. We prefer not to dwell deeply on his faults and even laud his skill in slipping away with prize fowl. Watching a fox abscond with our fattest hen we might chuckle to ourselves, and say "Well played my good man, a fine sport, till we meet again!"

Yet how do we view the wolf when he attempts to use his intellect? Hardly in the same complimentary light. In terms of clever tricks animals might play, dressing up as a sheep is not the work of a dolt. I'd be willing to say it's more impressive than anything dolphins do at sea world. But let a wolf try this, and praising his keen resourcefulness is the farthest thing from our minds. Unlike the fox, the clever wolf comes off as a deranged sociopath. If a fox were to dress as a hen, we'd probably marvel at his creativity. For the wolf we reserve pursed lips and stern disapproval. The fox is charming, the wolf is a dhameresque psycho who eats grandmothers and their favorite red caped little descendants.

Perhaps it is true, as Dorothy Day once said, "The Esaus of this world are so often more lovable than the Jacobs." This would explain our views of the fox. But why do we see the wolf as less of an Esau and more of a Charles Manson? For this, I have no answer, despite spending a total of four weeks at nature camp. Indeed, in this case the axiom "wisdom can not be taught" is illustrated beautifully.

Foxes; Wet vs. Dry

I will conclude with one of the more esoteric fragments of knowledge relating to Vulpes Vulpes. This unsurprisingly deals with his appearance. What attracts me most to the fox is his beauty. He's a gorgeous, gorgeous animal. It is no wonder then that the most comely of our own species are termed "vixens." Yet even this most handsome of canids has a physical imperfection, a small but serious blemish threatening at times to mar his good looks. This lies in his response to water.

If we further meditate upon the dual meaning of "vixen" this point is elucidated effectively. Allow me to explain. When you thoroughly apply water to members of our species, physical allure is not entirely eradicated. In some cases, well documented in both modern photography and cinematography, an unmistakable "come hither" appeal is perceivably enhanced.
Conversely, the application of water to the canid fox almost completely effaces all beauty. If the sodden fox retains the capacity to inspire any emotion other than revulsion, it is merely pity.
Should you have ever happened upon a fox immediately following a thunderstorm, you know the truth my words contain. A wet fox is jarringly unattractive.

The following pictures attempt to capture this phenomenon:

The red fox, dry

The Red Fox, Wet (Artist Rendering)

Latrodectus variolus, The Black Widow Spider

image from wikipedia

Identification: This one is pretty straight forward. It's shiny black with a bright red hourglass on the body. Pretty hard to mistake. The adults are about 1.5 inches across. Of course, the juveniles and males look a little different. They are smaller, sometimes brownish, sometimes a little speckled. I wouldn't really worry about that though. I'm pretty sure people are interested in actual black widows, not little black bachelor spiders, or brownish maid spiders.

If you want to sound interesting while discussing the natural world, you can get a lot of mileage out of the black widow spider. It's pretty, it's creepy, and it's poisonous. There's something about being poisonous that makes an animal so much more intriguing. The average man on the street will readily attest to knowledge of the king cobra, but is unlikely to provide much insight into say, habits of the eastern milk snake. In any case, the black widow has done a good job getting it's name out there. It might not be a rattlesnake or great white shark, but it's close.

An Arachnid for the Contrarian's Contrarian

To intelligently discuss this spider, one needs do little more than learn to dismiss the common wisdom. Let's talk about how one should approach two of the most well known facts.

Fact # 1: The black widow is poisonous.

Everyone knows this, but this alone doesn't tell you much. The thing to know is exactly how poisonous the black widow is, and what its poison will do to you. The black widow is extraordinarily poisonous. Jab someone with a syringe full of black widow poison and it would be curtains for him. However, the amount a widow spider will inject with its bite is minuscule. It's generally not enough to send anyone shuffling off his mortal coil. So what you want to say is something like this, "Yes they are rather poisonous, but the odds of death from the hint of venom in a widow bite are long indeed."

Next you need to know what the poison can do. It reads like a typical list of "possible side effects" from prescription medication. The effects include the usual; headaches, nausea, dizziness, vomiting, and abdominal pains similar to those in childbirth. Obviously, it's the last one I'm interested in. To be fair, I've only heard anecdotally that these pains resemble childbirth, but that's enough for me. It resembles childbirth and lasts for 2-3 days. That means, should you be a gentleman bitten by a black widow spider, you can someday look lovingly in your spouse's eyes as she delivers your child, and say, "Honey, I know just what you're going through...of course, for me it lasted three whole days, but I know that even these few hours have been tough." Theoretically, any man who so desires might improve his ability to empathize with the mother of his children simply by going to out to the wood pile and harassing his local Latrodectus specimen.
In all seriousness though, don't do this. It's a terrible idea. Although it's unlikely, you might die, and even if you survive your wife probably won't appreciate the gesture. Most likely she'd hate it. Plus, as a father who stood by and supported his spouse through the beautiful yet somewhat horrific experience of natural (drug free) childbirth, I'm pretty sure that getting bitten by a widow spider would be way easier, despite any literature to the contrary.

Finally it's important to note that the black widow spider doesn't really want to bite you anyway. She's a live-and-let-live type who would rather spin her web, eat insects, and reproduce than take time out of her busy schedule to give you a good chomping.

Fact # 2: The black widow spider kills and eats her gentleman callers after mating, hence the name.

Never hesitate to point out that this 'fact' is not entirely true. The female widow spider does not normally slay her unsuspecting suitors after a tryst, and has been unfairly maligned. Moreover, this behavior is rarely observed in the wild, where it has been limited to only one strain of widow spider (there are several). Here you have the perfect formula: a generally inoffensive creature, captured by humans and culturally debased by a cruel artificial environment to the point of extreme depravity. Knowing this enables you to almost drip with moral superiority when discussing the widow spider. Speak as if you would never stoop so low as to confine an arachnid while saying something to the effect of, "in their natural habitat, cannibalism between mates is virtually unknown." If you really want to push it, you might then mention that after a typical rendezvous, the male will sometimes proceed to mate with other females. Thus, not only is this spider non-violent in a natural state, it also blithely embraces a post-modern, post-conventional moral approach to the family. You could say all this, but I'd recommend carefully gauging the tolerance of your audience beforehand.

Carduelis tristis, The American Goldfinch

American Goldfinch
How to identify: It's really bright yellow, with black wings and a black spot on its head. It's about 4-5 inches long. In the winter it's a dull greenish brown color. Also, the females are duller without the black spot on the head. There's not much point in learning what females and winter goldfinches look like because it's boring and no one will care.

If you want the most bang for your buck, look no further than the American Goldfinch. It has an abundance of excellent qualities which perfectly suit the needs of the dilettante naturalist. First of all, it is incredibly yellow; when in the sun, almost blindingly so. Secondly, it is common. Take a stroll around the block, and chances are you will encounter a goldfinch. Most importantly, despite these two characteristics, a good number of people have absolutely no clue that goldfinches exist.

Hard to believe, yes, but I assure you, it's true.

I first discovered the goldfinch when I was eight years old. My parents sent me to nature camp where I learned to identify local wildlife, and quickly became cognizant of the fact that suburbia was teeming with these cheerfully painted little organisms. Even better, I learned that my mother was unaware of their presence, and frankly prone to disbelieve my claims that a bright yellow bird with black wings inhabited these regions (This was not an unjustified disposition, for as I child was was somewhat given to exaggeration if not fabrication). But ha! imagine my triumph when able to point out a male of the species dallying on a wildflower just yards away from where our station wagon idled at an intersection. And this only moments after she rolled her eyes at my narrative of the day's ornithological sightings!

Please do not think that ignorance of this charming finch is limited to my mother. Over the years I discovered that about fifty-five to sixty percent of the population goes through life blissfully unconcerned with finches, bright yellow or otherwise. Armed with a tiny bit of knowledge one can be the bearer of good news, introducing scores of impressed friends to the pleasures of the goldfinch. It is as if over half the population has not only never watched a sunset, but also doesn't even know this whole sunset watching business is an option.

So, when reasonably sure that an acquaintance possesses little or no knowledge of birds, never hesitate to point out this finch saying, "oh look, there's a goldfinch." Chances are your companion will be duly impressed. If your friend has any more than a passing knowledge of birds, don't worry, all is not lost. You can still carry the day by adding something along the lines of "I say, isn't it peculiar that the Latin name implies 'sad thistle eater.' With that coloration I can think of few birds who seem more cheerful!"

This should clinch the deal. If not it's time to cut your losses. Fret not, some people simply can't be impressed by either a knowledge of wildlife, or ancient languages.