April 1996

     Paris and I drove out to the desert with her father, Larry. We had had very little time to visit with him during the trip, so we thought a group hike to the palm oasis near Borrego Springs (a little retirement community smack dab in the middle of the national park) would be a good opportunity to fulfill several agendas.

     Paris, Larry, and I arrived at about 5 PM, in the middle of a Santa Ana. The temperature was somewhat in excess of 100 degrees. Already sunburned badly, I covered my head with a wet tee-shirt to avoid further damage. Paris pointed out that it looked as if I were wearing underwear on my head, but I took the jibes in favor of avoiding skin cancer.

     It took a fair amount of time to hike the 1.5 mile trail, and all the way along, Paris (who prefers to do her hiking in malls) was complaining. About a tenth of a mile short of the oasis, she refused to continue, but after visiting the oasis I knew that I had to make her finish the hike, so I backtracked and found her moving up the trail towards us. The oasis was a true paradise, probably 20 to 25 degrees cooler than the surrounding desert. Palm trees and a waterfall made it feel more like the South Seas than like a desert stream.

     We didn't make our first herp sighting until we were on our way back to our campsite. The sun was slowly setting, and lizards were beginning to come out. I didn't have my Petersen's field guide with me, and couldn't identify the lizards that we began to see all around us. Checking the guide later was no help either, although I suspect that they were some sort of spiny lizard. They ranged in color from blue and grey to orange and yellow, with the bluish variety being smaller generally than the orange variety. The orange lizards were the most beautiful, being a dark reddish orange at the tail, and dithering into a bright spotted yellow at the head. The blues started blue at the tail, dithering into grey at the head. The individual in the picture is perhaps 8" long including the tail.

     I was hoping to see and photograph rattlesnakes (primarily C. ruber ruber during our visit, but was disappointed during the hike. I hiked the trail again the next morning, starting before dawn to catch the snakes, which I assumed would be active at dawn and at dusk (which was true of the sidewinders I photographed in Death Valley in 1992). On my first trip to the Anza-Borrego on a high-school trip, I encountered a C. ruber while bouldering off away from the group at about 10 AM. The weather had been significantly cooler on that trip.

     On neither hike on this occasion did I see any snakes whatsoever, although the jackrabbits were plentiful, and the oasis was rife with hummingbirds. I resigned myself to a trip without seeing any snakes, and we packed the car to leave on the first leg of the drive back to Washington.

     As we climbed out of the desert valley towards San Diego, I noticed what appeared to be a stick laid out across the road in the opposing lane. I recognized the heavy-bodied shape of a rattlesnake, and turned around, expecting to find a snake that had been killed by a car.

     I was surprised to find that it was a very much alive specimen of C. ruber, which was apparently trying to warm itself up for the day's activity. It was stretched straight out across the road as if trying to cross, but was not moving. It was quite sluggish, and may have been trying to sun itself. I was surprised that it had not been run over. There was very little traffic on the road, but there was enough. Paris got out of the car and came too look at it as well. I pointed out how docile it was, and she exclaimed over how pretty it was. The colors were vibrant and sharp, as if the snake had shed recently. From the size, I would guess that it was a fairly young snake.

     While we stood there, a pickup truck came down the road. I flagged it down, and guided it slowly around the snake. The truck stopped and two young men came out. I showed them the snake, and we talked about rattlesnakes and the danger that people perceive from them. They were amazed at how docile it was. As I gently prodded the snake towards the edge of the road with a twig, one other car stopped - an elderly couple from Palm Springs, who insisted that the snake was a sidewinder. Again I talked about the snakes from an appreciative point of view, and hoped I had made my point about conservation and respect of these beautiful animals, and that it would replace their hostile view of what they saw as nuisance animals.

     After quite a lot of prodding, the snake finished its journey across the road, and wound its way into the chaparral. I was once again amazed at the fact that, despite the evil reputation that rattlesnakes have, it never once made any motion towards me to bite, and reacted very little to anything. It only rattled once or twice, halfheartedly, when I aggressively prodded it to get it out of the path of traffic, and only coiled once when a motorhome in the opposing lane came within a foot of hitting it.