Bike Biology: Copperhead Road

This past week it seemed that copperheads awoke from hibernation on cue. Agkistrodon contortrix is the most widely encountered venomous snake in North Carolina.

Several roadkill were reported on the Raleigh 400km brevet. The lead-in photograph (roadkill), courtesy of Sridhar, was snapped on a recent populaire. The second photo (live) was taken on a commute by MikeO.

Both photos capture nicely the two attributes of poisonous snakes with which everyone ought to be readily familiar, while viewing from a safe distance. First, note the thick body of both snakes. The second characteristic of local venomous snakes is the telltale, arrowhead-shaped head.

Unlike venomous rattlers and water moccasins, whose first instinct at the sign of danger is to slink away if given the opportunity, the modus operandi of copperheads is to strike first.

An expert on copperheads, Whitt Gibbons, professor at the University of Georgia, notes:

Most copperheads tested have struck out immediately when they felt threatened. This behavior explains why more people receive legitimate snakebites from copperheads than from any other species of venomous snake in North America. The copperhead's initial threat display is to strike. It lashes out at an enemy as a warning. If the enemy is close enough, the fangs may penetrate the skin.

Here is a short video of a copperhead in its natural habitat.

If there is any good news regarding copperhead bites, it is that copperhead venom is not as potent as that of other poisonous snakes indigenous to our state. Nor do copperheads inject as much venom with their first strike as other snakes. Even so, sufficient venom is released to cause abundant tissue swelling. Thankfully, copperhead bites are rarely lethal. Full recovery, often without tissue death, is common. None of this, however, lessens the real pain and suffering of those bitten by copperheads.

The reader will be interested in a first-hand account by one of our local randonneurs, Jerry Phelps, who was bitten a few weeks ago by a copperhead at night in his driveway, while loading luggage into his car. The copperhead was under the car bumper. Jerry says that he may have stepped on the copperhead, which, nonetheless, had had ample opportunity to move away. Jerry recalls:

According to the EMTs and what I read afterwards, young (ie small) snakes do not have the ability to inflict a “dry bite.” They inject the full dose of venom. And a small snake bit me.—BTW, the shoulder-less scoundrel is still alive as far as I know! I didn’t have any tissue necrosis, just massive amounts of swelling. I was bitten on the instep of my right foot and my foot and leg swelled to slightly above my knee—my ankle was so swollen, I couldn’t flex my foot. It was very painful and difficult to bear weight on until about three days after the bite. It took about three weeks for the swelling to completely go away, but I was back on the bike about 10 days after the bite. I was also told that the anti-venom can be more harmful and dangerous than the venom itself. It is also very expensive, as much as $5-8,000 per dose. Therefore the recommended treatment is to monitor the patient’s vital signs and for signs of shock, treat for pain, and blood tests for hemotoxic shock. 

I was not given antivenom but was given Dilaudid—a powerful opiate. Two IV doses of morphine did nothing for me. I was in the ER about 8 hours and was sent home with an antibiotic and oxycodone. And I was given a tetanus booster in the ER. I’ve had no ill effects at all since.


While North Carolinians lay claim to “Tobacco Road,” it seems that Tennesseans have a corner on “Copperhead Road.” The name of a now-classic ‘80s country rock song, Rolling Stone called “power twang,” that embraces local history.

Please watch your step!

Let’s ride!

Bike Biology: Black Swallowtail Butterfly

What cyclist hasn’t been awed by the fanciful flight of the swallowtail butterfly as it flits over field and flower? Can a bicycle route exist that excludes its presence? In truth, only if it’s in Antarctica.

The swallowtails are some of the largest, if not the most often observed butterflies this time of year.

Swallowtail butterflies get their name because of their wing extensions that resemble the forked tail of some swallows. For Tar Heel cyclists, there is a historical connection with the butterfly to our state, according to one authority:

The tiger swallowtail is probably our most recognizable swallowtail in the eastern United States. It is admired by butterfly gardeners and treasured by young butterfly collectors. The first drawing of a North American swallowtail was of a male tiger swallowtail and was drawn in 1587 by John White who was commander of Sir Walter Raleigh's third expedition to North American.

The reader will immediately recognize the following lithe lepidopteron, a tiger swallowtail, from its picture.
This communication, however, is not about the tiger swallowtail, but its related cousin, the black swallowtail. Not because the tiger swallowtail is insignificant, but because of the presence of black swallowtail caterpillars, the cute critters in the lead-in photo, munching on fennel in my garden.

Initially, I erroneously thought that the caterpillars were those of the monarch butterfly. But, as one of my riding companion, Janis, objected, “Monarch caterpillars eat milkweed.” Something I knew, but rationalized that monarchs might like southern cooking, given the opportunity.

What changed my mind? Why did I abandon monarch in favor of swallowtail for the caterpillars lined up at the all-you-can-eat salad bar in my back yard?

The bottom line: anatomy. In this case, the presence of a certain anatomical structure—an osmeterium—common only to the family Papilionidae to which swallowtails belong.

Swallowtails differ from all other butterflies in a number of anatomical traits. Most notably, their caterpillars possess a unique organ behind their heads, called the osmeterium. Normally hidden, this forked structure can be everted when the caterpillar is threatened, or forced out with a gentle squeeze, and emits smelly secretions containing terpenes.

Check out the orange structure at the head end of the poor aggravated fellow, below, that reveals his true colors (lineage). Is he flashing an osmeterium or a peace sign? I was able to get "my" caterpillars feasting on fennel to flash me when I provoked them, touching them gently just behind the head, their orange osmeterium visible for a couple of seconds before being retracted.

Lastly, one can distinguish female and male black swallowtails, something biologists refer to as sexual dimorphism.

A male of this species has a yellow band near edge of wings; a female has row of yellow spots. The hindwing of the female has an iridescent band.

Male

Female

Let’s ride!

Bike Biology: Wile E Coyote Sighting

Coyote, courtesy North Carolina Wildlife Commission

This past week, I was in the short rows as they say, with just a few miles remaining on a 100 km Permanent Populaire. I was in Johnston County at the time on Jackson King Rd making my way toward the Wake County line. I'd just passed over a creek and had traversed a marshy lowland when it happened. Just as the road tilted slightly upward, I was distracted by a rustle in the woods off to my right. Assuming I'd startled a deer, I glanced in the general direction of the disturbance, expecting to see a white tail bounding deeper into the woods. Nothing.


The reason I didn't see anything was because my line of sight was directed too high and too deep into the woods. When my gaze turned back toward the road, I glimpsed a huge canine directly on my right at the edge of the road barreling straight at me!


The jury is still out on who was more surprised upon meeting---canine or cyclist. Only a few feet away, I witnessed the already fast-moving critter accelerate and lope directly across my intended path just a few feet below my handlebars and even closer to my front wheel. From my catbird seat, the object of my attention---a good-size, ruddy and gray furry critter like the one pictured above---proceeded to dash off into the undergrowh on the opposite side of the road where it disappeared, leaving me to wonder at the time what it was: lupus, rufus, dufus?


The incident occupied my mind for the remainder of my ride. The creature was obviously canine. But that leaves much room for speculation, given that the family of Canidae includes the gray wolf (Canus lupus), red wolf (Canus rufus), and dog (Canis lupus familiaris), but also the coyote (Canis latrans), something I had not considered at the time but would be compelled to later.


The question occupying my mind: Was it a wolf or a dog? I leaned heavily toward the former, judging by its size, coat, coloring, and demeanor.


But I soon realized that there was a serious problem labeling the animal in question a "wolf" based on well documented geographic distribution patterns of wolves. In short, it is probably safe to say that there are no wolves living in or near Johnston or Wake counties, whether gray or red. Gray wolves inhabit the northern portion of our continent, while red wolves are an endangered species in North Carolina restricted to a few eastern counties.


So where did that leave me? It led me back to the dog. But I wasn't so sure. Based on my split-second behavioral analysis, the animal did not appear to exhibit any of the usual dog behaviors.


Close cousins, wolves and dogs do display many of the same behaviors. But it depends on with whom they are cavorting. Simply put, dogs are comfortable with humans, while wolves are not. During my brief encounter with the animal in question, there was no hint of inquisitiveness, playfullness, comradeship, or docility. Only singularity of purpose. This is telling. In an Aesopian-like fable, a talking wolf might boast that the dog can be bested by taking advantage of its distractable nature.


Returning to the nature of the beast in question, I was at an impasse. It seemed neither wolf nor dog, yet a little of both. Luckily, there was another possibility---the most plausible, if not correct, answer. The animal in question was more than likely a coyote---which saved my hide, since you don't want to get labeled as someone who inappropriately cries "wolf."


Coyotes are no longer just westerners. Like chipotle and mesquite seasonings, coyotes have steadily migrated east. Numerous sightings have been recorded all over the state, including Wake County. The North Carolina Wildlife Commission states that coyotes are found in all North Carolina counties. This is because the coyote is extremely adaptable and, unlike the wolf, is capable of living near, while at the same time avoiding, humans. The red wolf on the other hand assiduously avoids humans and all sorts of human activity, which limits its range. Coyotes have expanded their range because they have benefitted by co-exisiting with humans and can be pests.


What ecologists refer to as a "top carnivore" locally, coyotes prey upon just about every animal: insects, crustaceans, lizards, snakes, mice, squirrels, rabbits, fox, deer, but also domesticated animals---cats, dogs, goats, sheep, baby cows, chickens, and turkeys. Coyotes will also eat "road kill" and human garbage. Primarily carnivores, coyotes will also eat fruit and vegetables. Indeed, the critter I met last week was "well fed."There was nothing lean, gaunt, scrawny, skinny about him as the popular cartoon images portray. Even so, I imagine its VO2max to be "off the charts" compared to humans.


That the coyote can be easily confused with either or both the wolf and dog is understandable, since they are all closely related. Interestingly, interbreeding can occur between the three groups and results in several types of hybrids, including the coydog, coywolf, and wolf-dog.


Coyotes have little interest in interacting directly with humans. My Wile E Coyote friend I'm sure had little interest in me. Abused by the natural odorant wafted by the superior wicking properties of lycra draped to my moist skin on that hot, humid June day, I'm sure Mr. Coyote's keen olfactory apparatus vaulted into uberload. He was probably thinking, "Good riddance!"


In retrospect, this was not my first coyote sighting while cycling this year. I spotted one last month near Stedman, NC. At the time, the first thing that popped into my mind was "fox," but the label just didn't stick. The creature in question was just way too big to be a fox and not red enough. Only for a split-second did I entertain the idea that it could be a wolf, which actually made more sense to me at the time. But rather than abuse myself thinking about it, I put the incident out of my mind.


National Geographic provides a nice short video for kids of coyote cubs playing as well as a recording of the sounds of coyote calls which can be seen and heard here. Just click on "Video and Sound" for the video and click on the arrow with "Listen to this Creature" for the coyote calls.


Make no mistake about it: the coyote is here to stay as long as there is a food source. And for the present there appears to be an ample one.


Let's ride!

Bike Biology: Wooly Worm, Wooly Bear, Woolly Bully

What cyclist hasn’t crossed paths with the charming wooly worm on a nice autumn day: those fuzzy little black and orange critters bent on crossing the road just ahead of your front tire?

Recently, I was taken aback as I spotted one attired not in the usual Halloween woolens, but as a blonde! I wasn’t sure whether I’d spotted a mutant or whether it meant we were in for a warm winter!

In spite of getting all worked up over my sighting of a blonde wooly worm, it turns out that I hadn’t discovered a new variety, after all. Either that or “my” Blondie had somehow managed to travel long distances on little legs, given the fact that I was able to locate another blonde wooly worm on line.

Here is her picture. Ain’t she beautiful?

Everyone’s heard of wooly worms, also spelled “woolly.” In some locales they’re called wooly bears. According to legend, wooly worms portend the severity of the approaching winter. Supposedly the wider the orange middle band, the less severe the winter. Some take it further. The wooly worm caterpillar is comprised of thirteen segments, and each black segment is taken to represent a week of winter weather, in this case, up to thirteen weeks of winter weather if the entire worm is black! Brrrrrr!

Here is a short video describing coloration and weather.

Wooly worm sightings this time of year raise several questions. What is a wooly worm? Where are they going? Why the hurry? And the question everyone is asking: Is wooly worm coat coloration a reliable forecaster of winter weather? I’ll attempt to answer these questions best I can, having access to unrivaled resources at Research Trailer Park (RTP).

Research Trailer Park, courtesty of sagittandy.

While I was pouring over thick monographs at RTP on the subject of wooly worm biology, it occurred to me while I was daydreaming that the typography of the word “wooly” along with its variant, “woolly,” resemble caterpillars. That’s it! The wooly worm is a caterpillar! And everyone as smart as a fifth grader knows that caterpillars metamorphose into either moths or butterflies depending upon whether these winged wonders work the night shift or whether they work days, respectively.

As an aside, if you would like to have your very own pet wooly worm and personally witness this spectacular metamorphosis, here are directions for its care. But first you will need a wooly worm.

Although there are literally hundreds of simple and effortless ways to catch a wooly worm, I prefer a bicycle equipped with panniers and a small plastic container in which I normally carry electrolyte capsules. First, I dump the electrolyte capsules from the container. Second, I exchange my wide 700 x 28 touring tires for narrower 700 x 23 racing tires so as not to needlessly endanger my future captive during the chase. Third, I mount full, double panniers—front or back, it doesn’t really matter—so as to have ample space for my electrolyte capsule cum woollybear container. Lastly, I practice dismounting, attaching cleat covers, and sprinting at least ten meters on pavement.

All is not lost if you don’t have a bicycle and the aforementioned accoutrements and still want to join the fun. You can simply enlist a neighborhood kid to join you with your science project. He or she will locate and catch a wooly worm in the back yard for you before you’ve even had time to don your cycling helmet.

If your wooly worm science project is successful, you’ll be rewarded for your effort with something like this:

. . . a beautiful tiger moth!

Bug people known as entomologists assert that our wooly worm goes by the scientific name: Pyrrharctia isabella thanks to a naturalist named Smith back in the year 1797.

Most species of caterpillars turn into moths or butterflies prior to winter. The wooly worm is unlike other caterpillars, since it will overwinter as a caterpillar. The “hairs” covering its body are called setae. They are a form of insulation. Additionally, the wooly worm’s tissues are protected from freezing by a cryoprotectant similar to but not necessarily ethylene glycol, otherwise known as antifreeze. The reason we witness wooly worms in a hurry may be due to the fact that they must locate a suitable place to hunker down for winter.

Here is a cool video entitled Wooly Worm Winter with bluegrass music.

The wooly worm hairs are not stingers, nor do they secrete noxious chemicals, one reason these fine fuzzy friends make such good pets. When disturbed, the wooly worm turns into a ball, playing “dead,” like this:

Finally, regarding the reliability of wooly worm forecasting: the number of black segments may be an indication of the age of the wooly worm rather than a reliable means of predicting weather. As the worm ages the middle orange segment encroaches upon the black ends. If one were to collect a number of wooly worms this time of year, one would find a variety of color patterns.

But that hasn’t stopped the numerous wooly worm festivals that occur usually in October with a central theme of winter prognostication. Move over Punxsutawney Phil. In fact, there’s one in Banner Elk, NC, each year. The following video provides a somewhat “comprehensive” account of last year’s event and related wooly bear miscellany. At about 2:33, you’ll see the Lees-McRae College cycling team that sponsored a winning entry in the wooly worm race. According to these adherents, the coloration of the race winner is the veritable predictor of winter weather.

Now you know what wooly worms are, why they haven’t yet taken flight, why they’re in such a hurry, where they’re going, and something about weather prediction, which is bound to start an argument!

Let’s hear it for the wooly worm! Wooly Bully!