She lay motionless under a stiff blanket of dried leaves. Vibrations in the soil beneath her long belly told her not to venture out, not yet. To her eyes, the two mountain bikes that came skidding around the corner of the trail, spraying dirt and sticks as they went, passed by as a flash of movement and fear. As the rumbles of danger continued away from her, she sensed another rumble coming from above. She flicked her dark tongue to taste the air. A storm was coming. A storm was good. The clouds might hide the warming rays of the sun, but the rain would bring the earthworms up from the soil. With barely a rustle of the crisp leaves, she slipped across the forest floor and beneath the bent root of a nearby beech tree to wait out the rain. Soon it would be time to find a deeper place to spend the winter, but today was not that day. Today was a day to feast.
I grew up thinking that garter snakes were the only snakes I might see in Toronto. Little did I know as a child that tucked under dried leaves and rotting logs, in woodpiles and garden beds across Eastern North and Central America slithered the diminutive Storeria dekayi, Dekay's brownsnake. These cute little snakes are usually under a foot long, and feed on invertebrates like earthworms and insects. The subspecies who live here in Canada are called Northern brownsnakes, and they can tolerate a little more cold than most other reptiles. They still go into brumation (a reptile's version of hibernation) in October or November though, finding an underground spot beneath the frost line. I only just learned this week that they can live for over a decade and that they don't lay eggs; they give birth to live young. Teeny, tiny, adorable live young.
There once was a little brown snake
born under a log near a lake.
She ate worms and slugs
and hundreds of bugs
then hid when she saw a snowflake.
DeWho?
I also learned this week that the DeKay of "Dekay's" was an American doctor-turned-zoologist who studied the wildlife of New York in the early-to-mid 1800s. It pleases me to know that he didn't take a deep dive into the natural world until his early 40s, but still went on to work with an illustrator to publish a book on The Zoology of New York. He collected a brownsnake swimming off the shores of Long Island, and so the species was named in honour of him.
A man named James Ellsworth DeKay
studied animals in Oyster Bay.
He found a brown snake
that became his namesake
and that's why we know him today.
The first part of this little snake's scientific name went through a few changes before the community settled on also honouring another American naturalist named David Humphreys Storer, hence today's Storeria dekayi.
A Snek By Any Other Name
The whole practice of naming animals after people has come under criticism recently (see the Bird Names for Birds campaign website for more on that discussion), but that isn't the only big language question surrounding this little snake.
Cutesy animal names are all over the internet. Dogs of any age are called puppers or doggos while cats become kittehs and any long-haired animal is a floof. Small creatures are now smol, which can be used as an adjective or a noun.
Wildlife are a big part of the trend, and the reactions to that from scientific communities and hobbyist groups are, well, mixed:
Snakes are not only called sneks but also danger noodles and nope ropes, depending on their size and general threat-level (Unfortunately far too many species of snakes should be called ENdangered noodles). I’ve read that there is also some concern in herpetology groups that too many people now say they want to boop the snoot (tap the nose) of snakes, which it's safe to assume most snakes would not enjoy and could sometimes end very badly for the booper.
My feeling on this is that we should acknowledge and embrace the cute, especially when it makes an animal that many people are scared of seem more loveable. And if there is any snake out there who counts as a snek, then the little Dekay's brownsnake is it.
But no, do not boop the snoot or otherwise touch any wildlife just for fun, whether or not they count as a danger noodle. Even if they are harmless to you, you are not harmless to them, and they have their own life to live. Admire the snoot from a respectful distance, and do your best to leave wildlife and their habitat undisturbed.
Beneath leaves on the forest floor
lives a camouflaged carnivore.
Step lightly and check
for that little brown snek
when you venture out to explore.
~ Marilyn
Links
Looking for more on these smols? Check out:
The Dekay’s brownsnake profile on OntarioNature.org
Photos from naturalist Miles Hearn’s encounter with a brownsnake in Toronto’s Don Valley
But don’t be misled by Douglas Alexander Stewart’s poem “The Brown Snake” which is NOT about America’s small, harmless Dekay’s brownsnakes, but rather is inspired by the venomous Eastern brown snake of Australia .
Join the Conversation
Have you ever seen a Dekay’s brownsnake? Are there other snakes you think are underappreciated and deserving of more recognition? Where are you on the snake vs snek debate?
You can comment or click the heart on any issue of Mouse and Minnow on the website archive, or hit the reply button in your email provider to send us your thoughts directly.
Thanks for reading,
Marilyn & Steve
About & Subscribe
Mouse and Minnow is a free newsletter created in celebration of animals, sent out most Sundays. Learn more about the newsletter and use the subscribe button below to receive original art and writing about the wonderful creatures of this world right in your inbox.
(Please note: This newsletter is hosted by Substack.com. Before subscribing, you should be sure that you consent to Substack’s privacy policy, terms of use and especially the company’s information collection notice.)
© All images and text are copyright the respective author 2021, All Rights Reserved. You are invited to share this newsletter with others by linking to the online archive or forwarding as is, but all other uses, including reposting individual or complete content, are not permitted without specific consent.