Bad Day for Bluehead Chubs

An anecdote having nothing to do with the news of the world.

The author has also recorded an audio version for those who prefer to listen

Today was one of my disc-golf-touch-grass days in a small, more or less local park. A few of the holes run along a small creek, which is nice. My buddy and opponent, whom I’ll call Hank, was looking down into the creek as we sometimes do this time of year because, as you almost certainly know, it’s bluehead chub nesting season.

The bluehead chub is about a seven inch long minnow that’s pretty common in the creeks and streams around here. The bluehead has an interesting mating practice in that it’s a nesting minnow. The male hollows out a spawning nest in the creek sand and decorates one end with a mound of colorful pebbles that it painstakingly collects and arranges at great minnow expense. Chick chubs dig a sweet nest.

It really is pretty cool to see and the brightly colored nests are easily visible from the bank. This time of year, the eggs have hatched and the fries have grown into fingerlings. These young chubs are, unlike their fairly drab parents, a brilliant orange and they make for a pretty display as they swarm and flit around the nest.

Fine, but we were about to drive and I was thinking about the tight gap I needed to thread when Hank said in a loud, excited whisper, “Hey Don, c’mere!”

I looked down and there was a bluehead chub nest with a bunch of bright, orange younguns flitting around. A couple or three adults were swimming around among them, just doing graceful, if somewhat quick, loops and figure eights. Neat, but we see this every year and I needed to dig out my tree-resistant disc (the one with the heavy “bumper” rim) and decide if I was going forehand or a slight, backhand turnover.

I made a brief comment about the nest to satisfy Hank that I had acknowledged his call to the creekside and was about to walk back to my bag when Hank pointed at the nest and said, “No, look!”

Whoa!

Right there, wriggling in place and submerged right on top of the nest was a snake! OK, haven’t seen that before. This really was cool. It looked like a juvenile rat snake maybe 18-24 inches long and it was apparently enjoying an all-you-can-eat chub buffet. That’s something I had never seen.

Intermezzo

Now I need to take a break from my anecdote and tell you about a recurring nightmare I’ve had for as long as I can remember. It’s about snakes, and odds are decent you have this same nightmare. It goes like this...

I’m walking around in some environment. Could be woods, could be an old house, whatever.

I see a snake and am a little freaked out because I hate snakes. Not enough that I panic or anything, but it does give me the willies. Simple solution, though, I just give it some leeway and leave it alone as I continue on.

But then there’s another snake.

I start looking at the ground, in the dark spaces below the furniture or under the logs and there’s another snake.

And another. And another and another and another.

And, just like that, I realize that the entire ground is virtually carpeted with writhing serpents and there’s no way around them.

I’m sure this has meaning like I’ve been procrastinating and I’m surrounded by squirming, unfinished tasks or something, but there you go. I’ve had this dream forever and it’s an awful feeling realizing you’re surrounded by infinite snakes.

Back to our regularly scheduled anecdote

So Hank and I are looking at this submerged rat snake wriggling in place above the bluehead chub nest. He doesn’t appear to be striking at the fingerlings, but why else would it be lingering there? It was wriggling in that graceful, snakey sine wave pattern but not moving forward. We stared at it for a long moment, maybe several, as it really was a little hypnotic.

But then I saw it.

This time it was me pointing at the stream and saying, “Hey, check it out--there’s another one!”

Sure enough, there it was. Another juvenile rat snake was submerged right next to the first one. These things were nearly invisible against the creek bed and chub nest with their mottled pattern and neither of us had seen the second snake until just now.

But then I saw it again! There, on the rock that was jutting out of the creek next to the bluehead chub nest…

“Holy smokes man, look! There’s another one,” I said to Hank.

It was my nightmare come to life! The closer I looked at the scene, the more snakes I saw. These were harmless rat snakes (which are good snakes to have around, by the way), but when was the last time I saw three of them right there, almost materializing out of the stones in the water? It gave me that same, creepy feeling as in my nightmare...but at the same time it was pretty cool.

Apparently, Mama Rat Snake had lain her eggs nearby and here was her brood enjoying an absolute jackpot of a bluehead chub fingerling smorgasbord in the middle of the creek. Even though it was a little creepy, it was something I’d never seen before and both of us stood there, transfixed, for a decent while. I managed to snap a couple of pics with my phone before Hank, being Hank, tossed a stick into the water right on top of the two snakes at the nest. One stayed while the other darted away through the water. Scene over. On to the precarious drive.

What’s the point of the story? There really isn’t one but, since anecdotes become something bigger when they have morals, maybe there are a couple of lessons here. The first one would be something about your nightmares being a lot less scary when you confront them in the daylight. But the really practical lesson is taking the time to go out and experience nature. Step away from the screen. Take a break from the keyboard. Of course, had I stayed in the office at my desk all day I would have gotten a little more work done but I wouldn’t have had those few minutes of fascination with the ordinary critters of the woods. Rat snakes and bluehead chubs are common in these parts, but today’s vignette wasn’t. It was thoroughly fascinating. It was like being a kid again and marveling at the simplest of nature’s spectacles. And it’s because I went outside and touched grass. Think about doing the same. You won’t regret it.

And sorry, chub family. I hope tomorrow’s better.

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Don Marshall is a normal Christian who loves his country and the liberties upon which it is founded. He is dedicated to doing what he can to prevent radical revolutionaries from destroying it, whether from the left or right. You can read more from him here: Don Marshall.