Fern Glen Essays
Lunch in the Fern Glen
by Judy Sullivan

You know what the music industry is like these days. I can't violate copyright laws. Therefore, please oblige me by imagining the strains of sweet, joyous music playing in the background.

It's a beautiful spring day at the Fern Glen pond, brimming with birdsong and sunlight. Waterboatmen stride across the water's surface. Tiny caddisfly larvae transform themselves into mobile homes as they glue bits of leaves to their backs. Warm logs are cigar-shaped islands that entice painted turtles and green frogs to bask.

All in all, an idyllic situation.

However, for one green frog, a garter snake is a surprise luncheon guest.

Switch the music in your head to a minor key.

Snakes have noses, like we do; however they have an added olfactory advantage. When a snake flicks its tongue in and out, the tongue picks up chemical traces from the air and deposits them into pits in the roof of the snake's mouth. These pits (called the Jacobson's organ) are what actually send scent messages to the brain. To say that one "speaks with forked tongue" rather compliments said speaker, as the forks help to determine the direction of a scent. Our garter snake has caught a scent...and a prize.

To a snake, frogs are constructed like oversized deli sandwiches.

Without limbs to catch and hold or chewing molars to grind, just how do they stuff those ample portions into such tiny mouths? This feat is comparable to a small boy swallowing an entire honeydew melon in one convulsive gulp (not that some haven't tried it...). With its lower jaw only loosely joined to the upper by a sturdy, yet flexible, cartilage, the snake, in essence, dislocates its lower jaw every time it seizes a large prey. This enables it to open wide its mouth up to 150 degrees, instead of the mere 45 degrees to which we are limited. In the event that its prey of choice is not only tall, but designed along Rubenesque lines, the front of the lower jaw can divide in two and swing outward, like a set of French doors. No matter how well designed, I will admit that it still looks painful. My jaw aches just watching it. Oh, and did I forget the frog? Don't worry, I'm trying to.

Why settle merely for legs when the whole frog is so satisfying?

Those rare individuals who have participated in an old-fashioned pie-eating contest can empathize with the poor serpents, which lack fingers to properly tuck their meals into their gaping maws. Ironically, frogs often use their front "hands" for this purpose. I kept waiting for this one to stuff himself in. So, what's a hungry snake to do if its meal won't help digest itself? This one is "walking" his mouth over the frog by alternately moving the left and right sides of his jaws forward. It took our little gourmand approximately half an hour to finish swallowing. His neatly pleated esophagus expands to allow for generous portions.

It's hard to enjoy a good meal in peace.

Snakes need warmth to aid digestion. At last, midriff full with feasting, our rapacious reptile slithers away to find a sunny log to sleep off his meal. The pond residents breathe a sigh of relief.

Fade out with soothing strings and cello.

Questions, comments, or other feedback to Judy Sullivan.