Several years ago, De's parents had several large trees close to their house removed for safety reasons — several large Water Oaks and Loblolly Pines, to be specific. The trees were downed and split with a chainsaw, and left in large 6-8 foot sections. Since then, a couple dozen of the largest pieces had been lying on the edge of the woods just south of their house, extending southward for probably 150 yards and ending with the Pokeberry Patch.
As they decayed, these logs became a haven for a wonderful menagerie of creatures: Prairie Lizards, mantle slugs, ribbon snakes, kingsnakes, click beetles, toothy skinks, and mushrooms of all sorts. It was another great lesson on how specific the niches these little friends occupy. Many of them I've never seen anywhere else in these seven-plus acres. I'm sure there were dozens more living within the logs that I never discovered. If I'd had known their fate, maybe I wouldn't have been so timid about investigating.
In the first week of April this year, all of the logs were put on the burn pile.
I just wanted to take a little time to honor these friends, some of whom I've seen here and there still, but nowhere as regularly or in such abundance.
Prairie Lizards
These fierce-looking little friends, often basking on the edge of the logs like they were surveying their domain, were maybe my favorite of the regular denizens of the Log Pile.
Their intricately patterned scales were almost the exact same color as the bark on the logs, and often I would only see them as they scampered away when I got too close for comfort. But occasionally I would see them posing there cutting a silhouette even from a distance, and was lucky enough to get some nice looks at them.
I think I got a glance of one of these guys since April, but nothing like the almost daily sightings before. I miss them a lot.
One of my best looks at our resident Prairie Lizards, where you can see hints of the vibrant metallic blue scales on its sides and belly. The detail to their scale patterns is really mesmerizing.
Toothy Skinks
The toothy skins of the genus Plestiodon were another favorite of the pile and a regular sighting in the warmer parts of the year. The big, beefy Broad-headed skinks (Plestiodon laticeps) were an especially beautiful sight, with their big, burnt-orange heads. We also had either the Common five-lined skink (Plestiodon fasciatus) or the Southern five-lined skink (Plestiodon inexpectatus), but there's no way to differentiate them in my photos. As it is, I only know we had P. laticeps for sure because I got a close enough photo to count the number of scales on its top "lip," so that's why they're all generally grouped by genus.
These, big sleek lizards are shockingly fast and have scared me more than anything over the years because you can hear how heavy they are scampering through the leaf litter on the forest floor. It was always lovely to get a good look at them basking on the logs next to the Pokeberry Patch.
A pair of Brown-headed skinks hanging out on one of the logs. I saw these friends regularly in 2023 after only getting glimpses in 2022, and was able to stay calm and respectful enough that I think they eventually got used to me and let me take some great photos.
A particularly beefy Broad-headed skink. So handsome.
Can't be sure of the exact species on this sleek friend.
Speckled Kingsnake
Only seen twice in all my hours perusing these logs, the Speckled Kingsnake (or possibly variant of Black Kingsnake?) was likely here hunting all of the other critters I've been mentioning. I was happy to have them, of course, as another sign of a healthy ecosystem.
They are probably around more than I realize with their amazing camouflage, but this was the only place I've spotted them, so far. Probably because it was so full of those other critters!
A speckled kingsnake wriggles its way across one of the logs.
Carolina Mantleslugs
I only saw these weird little friends in 2023, feeding on decaying fungus, which now makes me wonder if they only hang out in that very specific timeframe in the log decay lifecycle.
They are strange, mottled, thumb-sized slugs that are very easy to overlook as they munch away on their feast. Their genus is Philomycus, "friend of mushrooms," and that was indeed always where I saw them.
A mantleslug eating away on some bracket fungus growing on the cut face of one of the logs.
Fungi
Oh, the fungi. So many varieties, so many colors, so much beautiful life blooming from the slow breakdown of these logs, giving nutrients back to the forest.
It's hard to even describe all of the different kinds, so I'll just show you what I can. I'm sure there are even more photos in my collection that I'll continue to dig up and add here as I find them.
I'll miss these friends as much as any of the others. Every day was something different; every rainy day promised something new popping up somewhere. There was so much to see in only two years — I wonder what more might have emerged through the years of the logs breaking down, what else might have popped up through the cycles of decay?
One of the most amazing sights from late winter in early 2023. At least a half dozen different types of fungi growing together on the end of one log.
Other Friends
Here are a few more random visitors to the logs — it's quite the variety looking at it now. I really wonder what else might have been creeping and crawling around. Ah well!
A small ribbon snake, one of many that hang out in the yard, though I haven't seen nearly as many this year as in years' past.
A lovely wasp mimic hover fly visitor with a sweet little name: Carolinian Elegant.
"Scrambled egg" slime mold... it has another, rather unpleasant common name. I'll spare you.
Holding a dead large-eyed click beetle, one of the coolest creatures I found here, although sadly dead
I hope you enjoyed meeting some of these friends of mine, and I hope you'll think a nice thought or send some good energy or say a little prayer for them if that suits you. I hope I've honored their memory in some way.
🙏🏻🪵🙏🏻