Now I’ll be the first to admit that “The Culvert Files” is an oddly industrial name for a blog about wildlife. Equally odd is the inspiration, my nickname Culvert Kev. You may wonder why I so strongly associate myself with something that is buried under roads for people to drive on daily. This question and others like “When does a culvert become a tunnel?” are only natural valid questions. And while I will leave the contemplation of the latter to philosophers smarter than me, I can answer the former. In order to do so though, we must travel back to the ancient times of 2019.
I had just finished my freshman year of college and arriving home the freedom felt real. Having survived introductory chemistry and my condemnable dorm, it felt as if I had just finished a prison sewer crawl. However, unlike Andy Dufresne it was not Mexico I was about to escape to but the Gulf Coast of Florida. I know, quite the step down. Nonetheless, it is an area rich in plant and animal biota. With high levels of endemism, it is a region that has since carved a place in my heart. Accompanying me on this journey was Ananth, one of my closest friends. Together we set out on an early June morning with the excitement of new areas and things to be seen brewing.
Pitcher plant bogs, while not endemic to the Gulf Coast are one of the many reasons the area is so special.
Like much of life, expectations did not meet reality. While we had a few notable encounters, finding our first ever Red Hills Salamanders (Phaeognathus hubrichti) and several locally occurring turtles. The combination of drought and excessive heat made both wildlife and comfort scarce. I will never forget the eighty-six degree nighttime lows, sweating myself to sleep nearly naked within my tent. Needless to say, by mid-trip we were both dirty and desperate.
The Red Hills Salamander (Phaeognathus hubrichti) is the largest terrestrial salamander within its family in the country.
On one particular day near the end of the trip we found ourselves hiking a gated road through mesic flatwoods. We had spent the morning searching levees in the hopes of kingsnakes and rattlesnakes but as per usual the heat was unrelenting. In the flatwoods our luck began to change with several Dusky Pygmy Rattlesnakes (Sistrurus miliarius barbouri) quickly making appearances. While a common sight in this part of the country they were still more than welcome.
A Dusky Pygmy Rattlesnake (Sistrurus miliarius barbouri) from the Florida panhandle, this individual lacks the red dorsal stripe making it anerythristic.
We eventually came to a point where the road crossed a now dry cypress swamp with two culverts running beneath us. Ananth had the smart idea that given this was the last place to hold moisture, snakes may be concentrated here. Added to this was that the fill rock which held the culverts in place would make excellent refugia for them. Hopping off the road and searching the rock colloquially known as “riprap” Ananth soon discovered a Black Swamp Snake (Liodytes pygaea)! This was Ananth’s first ever and only my second.
The Black Swamp Snake (Liodytes pygaea) is a small, colorful, and aquatic snake that specializes in leech predation.
With spirits lifted we made quick work of the remaining immediate habitat with nothing else to show for it. After a brief photo session with the snake, we released it and Ananth wandered off to search the swamp. I however was still drawn to the culverts and after a brief examination with my dying headlamp discovered more habitat within the culverts themselves. I proceeded to do the only logical thing a person would do in my shoes and started to crawl in.
Being only three feet in diameter I was forced on my stomach with the headlamp strapped to my head. I strained to look forward in the culvert, crawling and examining the rocks that had washed in along the way. Fully submersed into the womb of the culvert I came to standing water and my excitement grew. It was looking better and better for an elusive Mud Snake (Farancia abacura). That is when shit hit the fan and I heard something large move in front of me.
Given my ectothermic background my first concern wasn’t venomous snakes but that I had somehow not seen the rabid raccoon that would soon send me to the hospital. However, when I lifted my head the characteristic red eye shine of an American Alligator (Alligator mississippiensis) looked back. Here the eight-foot crocodilian and I both laid mere feet from each. At least for the few seconds it took for me to get over my shock. Coming to, I screamed “OH SHIT!!” and army crawled as fast as I could in reverse. I doubt there is a world record for such a thing but if so, I would bet that I broke it then and there.
On a return trip we decided it was fruitive of us to not recreate the incident and instead take this memorable photo honoring that day.
Exiting the culvert, Ananth came running over expecting a rare snake in hand. What I instead told them made their eyes grow wide. Sure, enough we could now see plainly the gator that I had initially mistaken for a rock right where I left it. Disaster adverted I turned my attention to the second culvert. Triple checking to make sure there was no alligator I began a second crawl before quickly coming to my senses.
I still go in culverts, quite often actually and I’ve since seen more reptiles and amphibians in them than I could count. Everything from Cave Salamanders (Eurycea lucifuga) across from my house to Black Racers (Coluber constrictor) on a college campus. My friends caught onto this and the moniker was created. There’s just something about finding the animals I love so much in such an unorthodox location. So the next time you’re out exploring maybe you should take a peep in a culvert, you’ll never know what you might see.
Comments