Unemployed and roaming the countryside in search of photographs, with very little camera equipment but a great deal of ambition, David Slater found the perfect subjects.
Words and images: David Slater
A unique opportunity
It was a late July evening in Whichford Forest, Oxfordshire, a typical British woodland containing pine, birch and ash, separated by areas of marshy thicket. I was passing by an old dead tree stump, when a movement at its base caught my eye. I retreated, and watching from a distance, saw two small, possibly sub-adult grass snakes make their way up the exposed inner side of the tree trunk, twisting around each other as they went.
The light was too poor to take photos, and I'd no idea what the snakes were doing, but I did know that I was very fortunate to have stumbled across them - surely, they'd provide me with an opportunity to take some unique wildlife shots. I couldn't wait to return the next day.
The need for caution
It was warm again, and as I crept cautiously towards the tree, I was greeted by the sight of five basking grass snakes. Four of them were 40-50cm long - a third the body-mass of one large, clearly adult snake. The larger snake had to be a female, but what about the others - males looking for a mate, perhaps? Unlikely - grass snakes breed in late April and early May.
Maybe this area was a favoured hunting ground or suntrap? Whatever the truth, photos of these normally solitary predators massing together are rare, and I was eager to get mine. I approached too quickly, and in an instant, they slithered from sight. I'd learnt my lesson.
For the following four days, I returned to the tree with great caution, getting closer each time until, finally, I was able to get to within two or three metres of them by lying on the floor behind my rucksack, with a black cloth draped over myself. I itched from the grass underneath me and was bitten constantly by insects, but if I made a sudden movement, the snakes would disappear.
A closer look
A hole at the base of the tree, was of such interest to the female, that I decided to take a closer look. I peered in to find her coiled in the chosen nook. She recoiled, but stubbornly held her ground.
Her uncharacteristically brave behaviour was explained the next day when I found an uncovered mass of more than 20 white eggs in the hole. The snakes themselves, though, had disappeared. During the next few weeks, I visited the tree on warm evenings.
October was only a week away when I finally found a tiny grass snake, 10cm long, neatly coiled within a dead sycamore leaf. After a few quick photographs, the youngster became aware of my presence and slowly slithered off into the brambles. I left in peace, happy in the knowledge that there had been at least one survivor.
Words and images: David Slater
A unique opportunity
It was a late July evening in Whichford Forest, Oxfordshire, a typical British woodland containing pine, birch and ash, separated by areas of marshy thicket. I was passing by an old dead tree stump, when a movement at its base caught my eye. I retreated, and watching from a distance, saw two small, possibly sub-adult grass snakes make their way up the exposed inner side of the tree trunk, twisting around each other as they went.
The light was too poor to take photos, and I'd no idea what the snakes were doing, but I did know that I was very fortunate to have stumbled across them - surely, they'd provide me with an opportunity to take some unique wildlife shots. I couldn't wait to return the next day.
The need for caution
It was warm again, and as I crept cautiously towards the tree, I was greeted by the sight of five basking grass snakes. Four of them were 40-50cm long - a third the body-mass of one large, clearly adult snake. The larger snake had to be a female, but what about the others - males looking for a mate, perhaps? Unlikely - grass snakes breed in late April and early May.
Maybe this area was a favoured hunting ground or suntrap? Whatever the truth, photos of these normally solitary predators massing together are rare, and I was eager to get mine. I approached too quickly, and in an instant, they slithered from sight. I'd learnt my lesson.
For the following four days, I returned to the tree with great caution, getting closer each time until, finally, I was able to get to within two or three metres of them by lying on the floor behind my rucksack, with a black cloth draped over myself. I itched from the grass underneath me and was bitten constantly by insects, but if I made a sudden movement, the snakes would disappear.
A closer look
A hole at the base of the tree, was of such interest to the female, that I decided to take a closer look. I peered in to find her coiled in the chosen nook. She recoiled, but stubbornly held her ground.
Her uncharacteristically brave behaviour was explained the next day when I found an uncovered mass of more than 20 white eggs in the hole. The snakes themselves, though, had disappeared. During the next few weeks, I visited the tree on warm evenings.
October was only a week away when I finally found a tiny grass snake, 10cm long, neatly coiled within a dead sycamore leaf. After a few quick photographs, the youngster became aware of my presence and slowly slithered off into the brambles. I left in peace, happy in the knowledge that there had been at least one survivor.