Secrets of the Slough

By Dennis Monroe

What do turtles do in the winter? What do a mink and a wolverine have in common? Do cottonmouths really try to climb in boats? Secrets of the Sloughs is a unique perspective of the fascinating world that exists in many swamps and sloughs not only in Kentucky but in many Midwestern and Southern states. Through descriptive, often-entertaining observations and stunning photography of rarely seen behaviors, the author brings us a new and compelling insight into that secret world. It is a view that many never see, but you will witness up close and personal. There are images that will enthrall you, some that will surprise you, and still others that may keep you awake at night. But you will never look at a slough or wetlands the same again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 6, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524602246

Dennis Monroe

As a lifelong resident of rural western Kentucky and avid wildlife photographer and observer, I have a vested interest in the appreciation and preservation of our native fauna. Never taking the wonder of God’s handiwork for granted, I have spent countless hours in the various sloughs and wetlands surrounding my home, patiently capturing unique animal behavior in photos. Particularly fascinated by the venomous and often misunderstood Cottonmouth snakes, but maintaining a respect instilled by my father, I have been fortunate to document some of their more intriguing and rarely seen behaviors. Likewise, I have been blessed to observe and photograph many other slough residents in their own, private world. Playing in the woods and creeks as a child, I endeavor to use that accrued knowledge and experience to photograph nature in a very personal, insightful way. Ever mindful that the God who made the universe made the earth and all its inhabitants, I approach our environment and wildlife with reverence and awe. I trust that is reflected in both my photography and writing.

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2016 Dennis Monroe. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 04/06/2016

ISBN: 978-1-5246-0223-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-0224-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016905560

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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CONTENTS

Chapter One: A World of Life around Us

Chapter Two: The Feathered Fraternity

Chapter Three: Mammals in the Mist

Chapter Four: Reptilia: The Despised and the Docile

Chapter Five: Kings of their Domain

Chapter Six: The Welcome Winter

Chapter Seven: The Greatest Threat

FOREWORD

Hold up dad said, in a quiet yet stern voice.

His right arm was raised ninety degrees at the elbow, palm forward, instantly reminding me of Vic Morrow in Combat, which we watched every week. I stood frozen, like a frightened private following his seasoned sergeant. My eyes were fixed on him, knowing this voice was not normal, particularly on a relaxing day of fishing.

Here, take this he said as he turned and handed me his fishing rod. I’m standing on a snake.

I took the rod, with a hurried and spastic awkwardness, my heart pounding as if I’d just climbed Rosie’s hill on my bike. I peered into the dry, tan weeds that surrounded us, well above knee height. I could not clearly see around his feet, but I could see the weeds slowly thrashing below him, a brief glimpse of a black tail, and I imagined there might be others, all about us; a veritable nest of snakes, writhing at our ankles. I glanced toward the creek where we had been headed, only about thirty feet away. My mind and imagination were racing.

"They heard us coming and came out to get us I thought to myself. They don’t want us here."

Indeed, I was prepared, at that instant, to just turn and go back. Find another fishing spot; a place without weeds, where we could actually see where we were stepping. But it was a fleeting thought and quickly dismissed. Dad always called the shots and he always seemed to find the most precarious locations to fish. So I just stood motionless, half waiting for something to crawl across my feet, or worse yet, up my pants leg.

With little hesitation, he matter-of-factly reached down and brought up a dark, mottled snake; fat and squirming and extremely agitated. He was holding it by the neck, just behind the head, in a way I’d seen him demonstrate before with black racers and chicken snakes, instantly confirming his casual expertise and experience with such things. I quickly stepped backwards, frightened by its girth and obvious rage, but fascinated as well by dad’s calm control and mastery of it.

Looks like she’s fixin’ to have babies he said smiling, his voice returning to normal volume. Either that or she just ate something pretty big.

He stepped past me and walked back through the weeds, snake in hand, until he reached the gravel road where our ’61 Chevy pickup sat parked. I followed, somewhat keeping my distance, as I both feared what species it might be and, truthfully, was not entirely convinced of dad’s judgment in the excitement of the moment. The latter concern was