Dangers Lurk But So Do Opportunities On Shackleford Banks. The Eyes Must be Open For Both

I am fascinated by this beautiful skull

The bleached, clean skull of the young mare stuck in my mind since I first saw it the day we stepped off Grit and onto the Shackleford island. I wanted to have it, but it belonged to the ponies and to the island. Besides that, and rightly so, it is illegal to take the bones off the island.

I wanted to go back and see it again. Get more of the story it could tell of the being it had once served. I wanted to feel its smooth, weathered feel. I wanted to run my fingers over the teeth, feel the points and the wear they had endured in life.

I wanted to look again at the stages of the molars, which had helped me guess at the age at death of about 3.5 -4 years old. I wanted to look again at the pointy, little wolf tooth next to the first cheek tooth on the upper left side. I wanted to check again that there were no canines present, which would have made me think it might have been the skull of a stallion instead of a mare. I wanted to feel the weight of the mandible. I wished to observe again the fine, long vomer bone and the delicate lace-like ethmoturbinates that are so important for olfaction.

I wanted to look again at the suture lines that make up each of the distinct plates of the skull. I have studied equine craniosacral, and we memorize these sutures so we can lay our hands on them on live horses to influence their minute movements and help them heal.

We traced our steps back to the skull for a second look. It was, unsurprisingly, right where we had last seen it two days before. I felt it, turned it over and ran my hands over the plates and teeth. I admired its beauty and feel. I counted and named the teeth, incisors, wolf, premolars and molars. I thought about the being it had belonged to.

I was just finishing photographing and handling it when Bernie noticed a little spider hiding just inside the upper right cheek tooth. Bernie zoomed in on his iPhone camera and took a photo. Then he took his fingers to the phone and spread them to enlarge his photo. The spider that had been going for a rather eventful joyride in my hands was a black widow.

With all the observing I was doing. This was not a great thing to have missed, but at least no harm had come to the spider or me. I put her skull back where I had found it, making sure it was in the same orientation it had been in when I picked it up, in case that mattered to her and thanked her under my breath for not having bitten me.

What a mess being bitten by the skull's guardian could have been in the late afternoon alone on Shackleford Banks in March, here by sailboat, not another soul around but me and Bernie. I don’t think many people actually die from black widow bites, but it was an experience I am glad I got to miss, although it would have added to the drama of this fantastic adventure we are having out here on Shackelford Banks among the wild ponies, both the living and the dead.

Pointing out the central suture line where the right and left maxillae join

A closer look at the cool skull sutures

Feeling the weight of the mandible and looking at the molars

My pointer finger is on the last cheek tooth which is just coming in, dating the age of this pony at about 3.5 -4 years old

Here I point out the last cheek tooth or molar, which is just coming in. I however have failed to notice the little skull guardian lurking just inside the 5th molar

The guardian of the pony skull - The black widow I had failed to see

Shackleford Banks land of the ponies both the living and the dead