Several Rosy Maple Moth (Dryocampa rubicunda) specimens have visited Rosslyn in recent days, all gathering on the exterior of the mudroom door.
Some years we see none; others we see many. Because the pre-metamorphosis Rosy Maple Moth larvae (aka greenstriped mapleworms) feed on maple and oak foliage, I suspect their population expansion and contraction corresponds to the health of our local trees. But, to complicate the equation, adult Rosy Maple Moth moths actually don’t eat (apparently they don’t even have mouths). Hhhmmm…
Rosy Maple Moth, July 7, 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Rosy Maple Moth
As the photographs in this post clearly indicate, this is one moth that you won’t likely mistake for an imposter.
Rosy maple moths are distinguishable by their incredible bright pink and yellow color and wooly body.
In addition to the stand-out coloration, that foppish mop of furry fluorescent hair makes it difficult to miss these flashy friends. And yet, this curious camouflage may, in fact, serve to preserve the Rosy Maple Moth from predators. It is suspected that the bright coloration May actually deter hungry birds shopping for fast food.
The predators of the rosy maple moth and larvae mostly consist of birds including blue jays, black-capped chickadees, and tufted titmice. The bright coloration of the wings may serve as a defense mechanism to trick predators into thinking they are poisonous and not edible. The colouration of this moth rather surprisingly acts as a form of camouflage, blending it in with maple seed cases.
And given the greenstriped mapleworm’s (Rosy Maple Moth larva) culinary cohabitation with maples, perhaps resembling maple seed cases is a handy way to evade hungry blue jays, etc.
Caterpillar Hosts: Maple trees including red maple (Acer rubrum), sugar maple (A. saccharum), and silver maple (A. saccharinum); and oak trees including turkey oak (Quercus laevis).
We certainly have plenty of sugar maples at Rosslyn, and perhaps our fortunate uptick in brilliant pink and yellow moths bodes well for the health of our maples? Hope so!
This morning we spotted another nonvenomous Eastern Milksnake (Lampropeltis triangulum triangulum). While gathering limestone for the small stone walls that will delineate sloped flowerbeds behind Rosslyn’s icehouse, Tony discovered this youngster under a pile of rocks. Startled but gentle, this colorfully mottled snake seemed as perplexed by the two of us — and the tractor idling next to us — as we were intrigued with him/her.
Tony with Eastern Milksnake (Photo: Geo Davis)
After a quick look, Tony tucked the snake into a cozy pile of wood chips to ensure its safety while we were operating the tractor nearby.
Judging by color and markings, the Y-pattern on its head, as well as the head and tail shapes, I’m pretty confident that this… [is an Eastern Milksnake.] (Source: Milksnake?)
Tony with Eastern Milksnake (Photo: Geo Davis)
Almost fifteen years after that first rhubarb patch encounter with an unfamiliar snake, it’s exciting to be encountering and recognizing Eastern Milksnakes thriving on Rosslyn’s grounds. And it’s further evidence that our rewilding efforts in Rosslyn’s evolving wildlife sanctuary are enlivening a small stretch of the Adirondack Coast with wild neighbors.
When it comes to organic lawncare for our holistic home, I’m enthusiastic about composted manure. From locally sourced cow manure and alpaca “beans” to not-so-locally sourced bat guano, we find that nature offers up some of the healthiest nutrients for cultivating gardens, orchards, lawns, etc. Hurrah for free, 100% organic fowl fertilizer!
Fowl Fertilizer: Canada Geese greening the grass (Photo: Tony Foster)
Waterfront Waterfowl
The photograph above, captured discretely by Tony Foster on Friday morning, shows more than a dozen Canada Geese fertilizing Rosslyn’s waterfront grass.
In addition to seasonal aeration of the lawns surrounding our home and outbuildings, we also apply organic (bat guano derived) fertilizer every year or two. But, given proximity to Lake Champlain, we avoid fertilizing the grass adjoins Rosslyn’s beach. Abundant wild waterfowl (mostly Canada geese and mallards) ensure that this lawn gets plenty of natural nutrients nevertheless.
Foul Fowl Fertilizer?
Although I’ve never had the opportunity to use chicken manure, I’ve anecdotally heard that it’s an exceptional fowl fertilizer. Maybe. But our fowl fertilizer is free! And so far as I can tell, it is very effective.
But — yes, there’s always a “but“, right? — my beautiful bride would hasten to add that Canada geese and mallard s**t peppering the lawn where swimmers walk barefoot isn’t ideal. And Carley has the disagreeable habit of scarfing up this free fertilizer before it has a chance to perform it’s magic on the grass. Few things trigger Susan more than having to intervene when Carley is Hoovering fowl fertilizer!
Fortunately, spring and autumn are especially welcoming for the foul fertilizers. Our daily presence and heightened summer activity along the waterfront prompt most of the Canada geese and mallards to find less peopled property.
Although my original post explored the possibility of Eastern massasauga rattlesnake (Sistrurus catenatus) an update to the post concluded that a considerably more likely possibility was that I’d seen a milksnake, aka milk snake (Lampropeltis triangulum), a species of kingsnake.
While I feign no herpetology pretenses, my October 9, 2014 re-identification hinged upon communication from a more learned authority.
Recently I was contacted by a herpetologist here in NY studying the Massasauga who was interested in my observation. In our discussion he mentioned this:
It is common for Milksnakes to be identified as Massasaugas. The belief is that Milk snakes have evolved to mimic venomous species in their area, and in eastern states are known to be EMR mimics. Is it possible what you saw was a Milk Snake? — Alexander Robillard of SUNY College of Environmental Science and Forestry
Possible indeed! Even likely. I’ve concluded that, then as now, Rosslyn’s resplendent snake was a milksnake. What do you think?
While my poppy passion is no secret to Rosslyn Redux readers, I’m less vocal about my partiality to wild flora like trillium and Jack-in-the-Pulpit. One learns to protect these treasures!
But today I pause for an overt gawk at this exotic Jack-in-the-Pulpit, a sylvan surprise with almost impossibly green and purple stripes.
Jack-in-the-Pulpit (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Jack-in-the-Pulpit (Arisaema triphyllum sensu stricto or Arisaema triphyllum s.s.) is one of the most extravagant spring flourishes our woodlands offer. Coming across this beauty recalibrates, we’ll, just about everything. The day, the week, one’s mood, one’s wonder, one’s optimism. A gift of nature. A gift of springtime.
Beyond the beauty, there is mystery. A wondrous, semi sibylline wild neighbor. Let’s take look…
Jack-in-the-Pulpit (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Jack-or-Jill-in-the-Pulpit
Let’s take a look at the reproductive realm.
The inflorescence can be male (with male flowers only), bisexual (with both male and female flowers), or female (with female flowers only). In a small plant, most if not all of the flowers are male. As the plant matures and grows larger, the spadix produces female flowers as well as male flowers. The transition from male to female continues until eventually the plant produces female flowers only. This is an example of dichogamy, a rare phenomenon in flowering plants. Due to this sex-change lifecycle, this species is sometimes called colloquialy as Jack or Jill in the pulpit or Jill-in-the-pulpit. (Source: Wikipedia, June 23, 2023)
Fascinating, right? Let’s look into “dichogamy” a little further.
Sequential hermaphroditism (called dichogamy in botany) is one of the two types of hermaphroditism, the other type being simultaneous hermaphroditism. It occurs when the organism’s sex changes at some point in its life. In particular, a sequential hermaphrodite produces eggs (female gametes) and sperm (male gametes) at different stages in life. Sequential hermaphroditism occurs in many fish, gastropods, and plants. Species that can undergo these changes do so as a normal event within their reproductive cycle, usually cued by either social structure or the achievement of a certain age or size. (Source: Wikipedia, June 23, 2023)
And you thought I was just showcasing an extravagant bloom! Sometimes nature amplifies our perspective, offering a fresh twist on ideas we consider in other aspects of life…
Have you ever ever heard of an Eastern massasauga rattlesnake? Or a Sistrurus catenatus?
Me either.
Until recently.
I’ve just come across notes that I scribbled almost three years ago on May 15, 2009 after seeing a large, unfamiliar snake behind the carriage barn. I tried to identify the exotic serpent but never solved the mystery.
My sleuthing was reinvigorated this afternoon, leading me to a new possibility. As unlikely as it may seem, I now suspect that I may have spotted a massasauga rattlesnake with markings totally unlike our local Adirondack timber rattlesnakes.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. First let’s take a look at my old notes:
After gardening, while watering transplanted tomatoes I saw a large snake with unfamiliar coloring/markings. I described it to naturalist John Davis (@trekeast), conservationist Chris Maron and Essex Farm guru, Mark Kimball. No consensus. Perhaps a copper head, a northern water snake or an adder. I poked around the web looking at photos and reading descriptions. It was not a Northern Water Snake. The Northern Copperhead photo could be a match, and the description fits quite accurately. And this photo of a copperhead looks similar. Actually, most photos I find online of Northern Copperheads look similar:
Some other possibilities include Eastern Fox Snake, Northern Water Snake and Corn Snake. In fact, it looked an awful lot like a, Anerythristic Corn Snake (Elaphe guttata), but we’re definitely not in their natural range. Here’s a photo of a baby corn snake that is much smaller than the stealthy serpent I spied, though otherwise very similar. And here’s another corn snake. This photo of an Anerythristic Corn Snake is a dead ringer for the rhubarb runaway.
That was my thinking three years ago. But I’ve changed my mind. If only I had a photograph…
At the time I called my bride on my mobile phone and asked her to bring my camera so I could take a picture. “Come quick. I don’t want the snake to get away!”
A brief, anxious verbal volley later the snake had vanished into the deep grass around the rhubarb patch. No photograph. Though the image of the snake — pale yellowish tan background with brown and black foreground markings — lingered in my mind, the length of the snake grew longer with each passing minute.
The timber rattlesnakes that live in the Adirondacks are dark, almost black with only a faint pattern visible in certain lighting situations. This snake was not a timber rattlesnake. And I never saw a rattle. Nor did I hear a rattle.
And yet when I stumbled upon the photographs of the yellow rattlesnake above, I instantly recognized the snake that vanished in the rhubarb patch. We had a Sistrurus catenatus, yellow massasauga rattler in Rosslyn’s rhubarb patch!
Or did we?
What if the assumption that all Adirondack timber rattlesnakes living in the Split Rock Mountain Forest area are brown-black is erroneous? What if some of our local rattlers look like the yellowish tan snakes in this video which was ostensibly filmed in New York Sate?
The photographer/videographer who shared that dramatic footage was prudent not to disclose the location of the snakes, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they were right here in the Champlain Valley. Those pale snakes, especially the rattlesnake with the pale yellow head are extremely similar to my rhubarb patch mystery serpent!
If you’re a wise herpetologist with a knowledge of the Adirondacks’ Champlain Valley maybe you can help solve my snake mystery…
Updates
June 27, 2012: Perhaps Bill Brown (and many others) are relying upon empirical evidence about the Split Rock rattlesnakes that is changing?
Bill Brown, an expert on timber rattlers… said the Split Rock population is unusual in that all the specimens are black. Except for a tiny population in New Hampshire, other populations in the North are made up of black snakes and yellow snakes (with crossbands)… A biologist who has studied timber rattlers for more than three decades, Brown attributes the uniformity of the Split Rock population to the “founder effect.” It is supposed that all the founders of the population were black, and no yellow snakes contributed to the gene pool. (Adirondack Explorer)
July 17, 2012: Seems that we need help identifying another mystery snake in the Adirondacks.
Recently I was contacted by a herpetologist here in NY studying the Massasauga who was interested in my observation. In our discussion he mentioned this:
It is common for Milksnakes to be identified as Massasaugas. The belief is that Milk snakes have evolved to mimic venomous species in their area, and in eastern states are known to be EMR mimics. Is it possible what you saw was a Milk Snake? ~Alexander Robillard of SUNY College of Environmental Science and Forestry
So, it’s quite likely that I saw an enormous, beautiful milk snake. I’ve seen no similar snakes recently or ever. And given the fact that our local population of rattlesnakes (Split Rock Wilderness) are apparently all blackish, this suggestion seems the most likely.
Last Sunday my bride and I settled in for a post-lunch-tea-and-snooze in the parlor. The previous week’s unseasonably temperate spring-going-on-summer weather had yielded to cold and rain, so we weren’t feeling too guilty about playing hooky. No gardening or tidying up the waterfront for spring boating. No orchard pruning or apple tree grafting for us. Just a lazy afternoon on the dry side of our rain pelted windows…
Whaplumf!
That’s the noise of a dove crashing into a window pane.
Hawk Attacks Dove
We headed into the breakfast room where we discovered a fierce looking hawk pinning a dove to the ground on the lawn near the bird feeders, ripping beak-fulls of feather and flesh from the stunned dove’s back.
Did I mention that the dove was still alive? Despite the predator’s fierce talons and efficient beak, the dove periodically struggled and lifted its head to look around. The efforts were futile and only increased the hawk’s aggression.
It was a fascinating if deeply disturbing sight. A real world immersion in the sort of wild spectacle usually limited to the Discovery Channel. A Rosslyn safari sequel to the the Fox & Squirrel episodes.
Cooper’s Hawk on bird feeder (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
A dusty impression of the dove was still visible on the glass, and I surmised that the dove had crashed into the window while attempting to flee the hawk. I had seen a similar image about a week before on the kitchen window, as if a dove had been rolled in flour and then pressed against the glass, wings outstretched and head turned to the side revealing an eye and and the beak. Had this same drama played out then?
My bride was horrified. She raced outside flapping a pair of bright pink dishwashing gloves and shouting at the hawk. “Stop that! Get out of here. Go away!” The hawk looked at Susan flapping the pink gloves menacingly less than 10 feet away, then looked down at the dove, then up at me standing in the window, then back at Susan. The dove lifted it’s head, eyes wild with fright.
A standoff? A detente?
Suddenly the hawk flapped its wings lifting the still struggling dove from the ground. My fearless bride leaped toward the hawk, flailing her gloves and shouting angrily. The hawk settled briefly in front of the kitchen window and then flew away, abandoning the injured dove.
My bride pulled on her gloves and lifted the injured dove from the grass. It gazed up at her, struggling to breath. She carried the dying bird to the edge of our front lawn where placed it gently into a comfortable nest of leaves and twigs.
In recent weeks we’ve seen three of four piles of feathers near the bird feeder on different occasions, but I assumed the fox had switched from squirrels to doves. It turns out that we have two efficient predators who’ve discovered the benefits of dining on critters drawn to our birdfeeders.
Hawk Attack Dove “Research”
Never having witnessed this before I turned to the interwebs for assistance in deciphering what we witnessed. I found forums and blog posts documenting the exact same experience, in many cases even including the dove or pigeon smashing into a window before being nabbed by the hawk. And there’s a veritable glut of video footage online if your stomach is strong and your emotions are steely. (Note: If you are remotely squeamish, these videos are not for you.)
Are we contributing to the predation by overfeeding wildlife. I’m increasingly concerned that we are. Is there a better balance between feeding songbirds during the winter and over-concentrating/over-fattening the squirrel and dove populations? Certainly. But we haven’t quite figured out how to proceed.
I’ve recommended limiting bird feeding to the cold winter months, and my bride has reluctantly agreed. Verbally. When the food runs out. Which means that Rosslyn remains a fast food restaurant for foxes and hawks. And while my bride had repeatedly decreed our yard a safe haven for wildlife, we haven’t figure out how to communicate this to the predators. All advice welcome!
Hawk Attacks Dove Update
Half a year later I flash back to this experience.
It’s autumn, and we’ve just placed the bird feeders out for the winter. I’ve seen a fox slinking among the cedar hedge, spying on the squirrels, planning his next meal. The first pigeons arrive to peck the overspill sunflowers from the ground beneath the feeders.
Still no hawks.
And then, one crashes through the interwebs, plunges into my day, startles me, horrifies me, fascinates me. A hawk. A hare. An attack so familiar it seems as if I had watched the hawk attack the dove only yesterday.
Rattlesnake decoy among the Swiss Chard to deter the White Tail Deer
A week ago today was a day for snakes. Though – sadly, I must add – it was not a day for living snakes…
Rattlesnakes and White Tail Deer
Let’s start with the good news. Or at least the benign-if-slightly-amusing news. To set the stage, imagine yourself walking across the still dewy lawn south of the carriage barn. A light morning mist still hangs in the air adding a slightly bluish, fuzzy aspect to the vegetable garden, orchard, and meadows beyond.
[pullquote]Your eyes would suddenly, inevitably notice a coiled rattlesnake in the middle of the Swiss chard![/pullquote]Approaching the southeast corner of the vegetable garden your eyes would be drawn to the delicious, spicy radicchio growing in the cedar raised bed at the corner. Next your eyes would dart to the bright orange nasturtium sprawling alongside. Perhaps you would bend over and pick a succulent, young leaf to munch on. The flavor drifts somewhere between the subtlest peppercorn and cinnamon stick.
As you wander along past two varieties of beets interspersed with a fresh crop of French Breakfast Radishes your eyes would suddenly, inevitably notice a coiled rattlesnake in the middle of the Swiss chard!
But don’t panic. It’s not real. More precisely, it’s not a live rattlesnake. It is a lifelike rubber decoy. Before I explain to you why this rubber rattlesnake is coiled, rattle raised and head drawn up and back with fangs bared, here’s a quick backstory.
Rattlesnake decoy among the Swiss Chard to deter the White Tail Deer
Duck Doodoo
Back in May Lake Champlain water levels were low and dropping. But June brought rain, rain, rain. The lake level went up, up, up.
[pullquote]Doug called to say that two ducks were cuddled up asleep with the rubber rattlesnake…[/pullquote]The shoreline shrank, so the mallards decided that our dock was the perfect place for snoozing, eating, and… evacuating the rather rich byproduct of their rather rich diet. This stinky mess created an undesirable obstacle course for accessing the boat. So we hosed and scrubbed. But within a few hours the situation repeated itself.
After many weeks of duck waste remediation (DWR) I suffered a small stroke of genius. We needed a decoy predator! I researched and discovered that others had found that a coiled rubber rattlesnake deterred ducks, geese, seagulls, even pelicans. Perfect.
I placed the order and chuckled my way down to the dock on deployment day. An hour or two later Doug called to say that two ducks were cuddled up asleep with the rubber rattlesnake…
White Tail Deer Decoy
What to do with a worthless rubber rattlesnake? A few silly pranks came to mind, but before I could regroup and execute, I discovered that Doug had transferred the rubber rattlesnake to one of the Swiss chard patches in our vegetable garden that the white tail deer have been devouring. Good idea!
It’s too early to determine for certain whether or not the rattler is going to dissuade the deer, but I’ll update you if there’s any news.
Corn Snake Roadkill
In sorrier stories, this unfortunate sight caused me to pause during a recent bike ride.
Is this unfortunate snake spotted on Willsboro point at the end of July 2015 an anerythristic corn snake?
I pedaled past this exotic roadkill on a Willsboro Point bike ride, and circled back to try and identify the unfortunate fellow. Aside from the always disturbing sight of roadkill, this snake instantly reminded me of the mystery snake I spied in the rhubarb a few years ago. In fact, I’m almost 100% certain now that is the same species I failed to identify then.
A quick search online suggests to me that it might be an anerythristic corn snake. Check out the photograph below and decide for yourself.
The male ruffed grouse in the photo above was documented on a Rosslyn wildlife camera about a year ago. Fancy fowl! And the two images below were recorded a few weeks ago.
Rosslyn’s backlands are fortunately flush with ruffed grouse (Bonasa umbellus), a welcome reminder that wildlife gravitates — as if by some primal sense — to safe havens and sanctuaries. If you preserve it, they will come (or so our experience over the last 12+ years suggests.)
Ruffed Grouse (Rosslyn Wildlife Camera)
What is a Ruffed Grouse?
A brown or gray-brown, chicken-like bird with slight crest, fan-shaped, black-banded tail, barred flanks, and black ‘ruffs’ on sides of neck.
Habitat: Deciduous and mixed forests, especially those with scattered clearings and dense undergrowth; overgrown pastures.
Female gives soft hen-like clucks. In spring displaying male sits on a log and beats the air with his wings, creating a drumming sound that increases rapidly in tempo. (Source: Audubon)
Popular among hunters for their tender meat, the ruffed grouse in these images are safe in Rosslyn’s wildlife sanctuary. Although Susan is a vegetarian (a pescatarian, actually), I concede a robust appetite for wild game. That said, I’m not a hunter. And when we purchased first one, and then a second adjoining lots, our intention was to preserve and rewild, to invest in a healthy and resilient wildway buffering the already significant wildlife moving along Library Brook. With acreage expanded and John Davis’s wildlife stewardship guiding our rewilding efforts, native wildlife are returning and prospering.
If you’ve never heard a ruffed grouse drumming, you should definitely play the video below. It’s a mysterious rhythm I associate with late winter through early spring outings — cross-country skiing, snowshoeing, and sometimes mindful, sometimes mindless meandering — through Rosslyn’s forests and meadows.
Exciting update from one of Rosslyn’s wildlife cameras when I awoke this morning. Not sure why, but I always get especially enthused when we document a Bobcat. The sequence of three images captured at 2:29am appears to be the same bobcat we photographed a few months ago. Still healthy. Strong. Well fed.
Bobcat, May 10, 2023 (Photo: Rosslyn Wildlife Camera)
I’m struck by the fact that we capture bobcat photos and witness bobcat tracks, but I’ve never actually come across a bobcat at Rosslyn. Elsewhere, yes. But it would seem that our Lynx rufus representatives are especially stealthy, keen to avoid human encounters. Susan prefers it that way. But these photos do incite a persistent yen to meet — safely, respectfully — one of these regal neighbors some day.
Bobcat, May 10, 2023 (Photo: Rosslyn Wildlife Camera)
Thank you, John Davis (@wildwaystrekker) and Tony Foster (@anthonyfoster335), for siting and creating this trail last winter. Susan and I thoroughly enjoyed our cross-country skiing outings on thus new loop back in February and March. And it’s abundantly clear that our wild neighbors are fans as well!
Bobcat, May 10, 2023 (Photo: Rosslyn Wildlife Camera)
In this third photograph a small sapling appears to have sprouted along the downhill side of the trail. Do you see it camouflaging the front legs of the bobcat? It took me a moment to determine that’s what I was seeing. The disparity between the stout forward striding front leg and the strong but slender rear extended front leg — likely an incongruity exaggerated by the angle more than actual physiological discrepancy — initially drew my attention. But the darker mottling, especially on the forward leg, perplexed me. An injury? Atypical fur patterning? A skull and crossbones stocking?!?!
Exciting news to share. Today while reviewing images from one of our wildlife cameras, I came across this pair of River Otter photographs. Our first sighting ever!
River Otter, April 26, 2023 (Photo: Rosslyn Wildlife Camera)
Better yet? As you can see, the date stamp is April 26, 2023, my birthday. So I’m choosing to see this rare encounter as a birthday gift from our wild neighbors, from nature, heck, from the universe itself.
The North American River Otter (Lontra canadensis) is apparently a common resident of these environs, but they’re elusive. I’ve come across their tracks and slides in the snow on frozen streams, rivers, and ponds, but I’ve never been fortunate enough to witness one firsthand. Nor have we captured photos on our cameras until now, so these less-than-perfect images hold special value. And they serve as encouraging evidence that Rosslyn’s wildlife sanctuary is thriving.
River Otter, April 26, 2023 (Photo: Rosslyn Wildlife Camera)
Rather than fumbling my way forward with a cobbled, secondhand introduction to River otters I’ll defer to a more knowledgeable source.
The playful North American river otter is well adapted for semi-aquatic living. The mammals have thick, protective fur to help them keep warm while swimming in cold waters. They have short legs, webbed feet for faster swimming, and a long, narrow body and flattened head for streamlined movement in the water. A long, strong tail helps propels the otter through the water. They can stay underwater for as many as eight minutes. North American river otters have long whiskers, which they use to detect prey in dark or cloudy water, and clawed feet for grasping onto slippery prey. They are very flexible and can make sharp, sudden turns that help them catch fish. Their fur is dark brown over much of the body, and lighter brown on the belly and face. On land a river otter can run at speeds of up to 15 miles (24 kilometers) an hour—they can slide even faster. Their playful snow and mud sliding, tail chasing, water play, and snow burrowing activities also serve other purposes—they help strengthen social bonds and let young otters practice hunting techniques. (National Wildlife Federation)
Many thanks to John Davis for setting and monitoring Rosslyn’s wildlife cameras. It is John’s stewardship and oversight that underpin Rosslyn’s increasingly robust wildlife population.
Earlier this month one of Rosslyn’s wildlife cameras captured this remarkable image of a coyote (running with her/his mouth full.) Despite the grainy, blurry photograph, John and I both believe that we’ve identified this movable feast.
Coyote with Deer Leg (Photo: Rosslyn Wildlife Camera)
To be certain, the eyes are prominent. And the snout. But the coyote is unmistakably carrying something. To our eyes it’s unmistakably a deer leg. Can you see the hoof hanging down?
Let’s try tweaking the contrast, the depth range, etc.
Coyote with Deer Leg (Photo: Rosslyn Wildlife Camera)
Okay, still grainy, but it the movable feast bears an uncanny resemblance to a leg — or, more accurately, a part of a leg from a whitetail deer. Hoof and all?
