In the lands beyond the fields and rabbits, past the river mazes and their rocks, were the wetlands. Creatures familiar to your kind were there, but there was a small snake you may never have seen or smelled.
Born from unprotected egg clutches numbering in the hundreds, they left their shells to fly instantly with wings. As they matured throughout the warmer moons they grew as you’d expect, but when the temperature dropped the most interesting thing occurred. They stopped eating, shrank, and laid eggs. Once this natural obligation was accomplished, they continued to shrink, lose their wings, and finally die the size of an earthworm.
The new eggs hatched when the air warmed, beginning the cycle again. They had many predators, no natural defenses, and didn’t protect their eggs. We called them Swampy Sign Snakes, because their flapping wings reminded us of baseball coaches giving signs, and they carried the smell of their wetland homes.