One of Humanity’s Greatest Fears – in Celebration of Snakes!

Among our most universal and compelling fears, one that is widespread across cultures, continents, and through vast spans of time, is the fear of snakes. In terms of simple survival, this makes perfect sense; many snakes can be lethal. For countless millennia, I am sure that people knew which snakes were dangerous and which were not.

In modern times, our culture has become so disassociated with the natural world that most of us can no longer identify what species are harmless and what kinds are not. The deep-rooted, possibly instinctual fear of snakes remains – when coupled with widespread ignorance, it results in the needless death of many snakes every year. You say rattlesnakes are easy to identify? Tell that to the many people who have killed slightly similar gophersnakes, thinking they were rattlers. Or to the screamers that wield shovels in attempts to automatically kill any snake they see.

The photograph above the title depicts a pair of mating western diamondbacks. A reminder – if you are viewing this in your email, you will not see the header images. Move your cursor over the title and click on it to be re-directed to my blog site, where the header images appear and where other images are larger as well.

What follows is a celebration of the beauty, grace, and elegance of the remarkable animals that we call snakes. Thirty-four species inhabit the Middle San Pedro Valley. Here is a sampling of a few that I have had the delight to encounter…

A Sonoran coralsnake, (Micruroides euryxanthus), a highly fossorial, nocturnal, (and therefore seldom-seen) species. The striking aposematic coloration of these beautiful reptiles is a clear warning to many would-be predators. Bites from these small snakes are very rare – and very serious. The venom is primarily neurotoxic; drop-for-drop, it outdoes any other southwestern snake for sheer potency.

Sonoran coralsnakes are small, (rarely over two feet in length) shy, and retiring, preferring to hide their heads when threatened rather than strike defensively.

Gophersnakes, (Pituophis cantenifer), are Arizona’s longest serpent, capable of reaching lengths of over eight feet. These powerful constrictors are experts at preying on rodents. A special scale armors the front of their snout, enabling them to push through soil in rodent tunnels with ease. Gophersnakes play a key role in landscape-scale ecology by controlling rodent populations. This also makes them an ally to ranchers and farmers. Sadly, many are killed by ignorant people who mistake them for rattlesnakes, and many more are intentionally killed by drivers, brutal acts that are a mark of cruel, simple-minded people.

While gophersnakes are common in Arizona, this one is very rare due to the aberrant patterning on the upper parts of its body. The usual dorsal blotches have been replaced by long, striped markings.

Glossy snakes, (Arizona elegans), are quite common in the Middle San Pedro Valley. This species can attain lengths approaching six feet. At a glance, it is not hard to confuse these snakes with gophersnakes.

A Sonoran lyresnake, (Trimorphodon lambda), curled up against the wall of my adobe residence. Lyresnakes are fascinating; their large eyes feature vertically elliptical pupils, whereas most of our other snakes have round pupils. This is a nocturnally active species whose its diet is composed primarily of lizards. Lyresnakes don’t have injectable venom; instead, they secrete venom from glands in the rear of their mouths that is very toxic to lizards – but not to humans.

A typical “pink” coachwhip, (Masticophis flagellum). Coachwhips are often erroneously called “racers” or “red racers” by local residents.

Coahwhips are phenomenal creatures, the true “über predators” of the southwest. Equipped with large eyes capable of exceptional long-distance acuity, coachwhips are the desert’s fastest snakes, and are surely among the fastest in the world. These are extremely alert reptiles that specialize on hunting lizards but will also consume a wide variety of other prey items. Coachwhips occur here in three color phases, with intergrades as well. The pink phase predominates locally.

I spotted this long-nosed snake, (Rhinocheilus lecontei), crawling across the dirt floor of our open shed on a warm, early summer morning. Its vivid colors and patterning are a reminder that snakes can be very beautiful creatures.

Long-nosed snakes occur in southern Arizona in two main color morphs. This is the other one, a completely different mix of colors and patterns compared to the individual above.

A California kingsnake, (Lampropeltis californiae). To me, this is one of the most beautiful snakes in Arizona, combining a chain-like pattern of cream-yellow bands set against a glossy, satin-black background. Kingsnakes are snake specialists, actively hunting many other species including rattlesnakes – kingsnakes are immune to their venoms. In addition to snakes, other foods include small rodents, eggs, and lizards.

A desert kingsnake, (Lampropeltis splendida) This species occurs locally in two primary color phases – the one pictured here is the most common. Some desert kingsnakes exhibit melanistic (all black pigmentation) coloration.

Checkered gartersnakes, (Thamnophis marcianus) prefer habitats near water sources such as streams and ponds, where one of their favorite types of prey can be found most reliably – amphibians. Three species of garter snakes inhabit the San Pedro River Basin.

Rattlesnakes are the victims of more prejudice and brutal cruelty from people than all other American snakes – most often, the prejudice and cruelty arise from deep ignorance. We tend to overlook the comforting fact that rattlesnakes are among the very few toxic snakes on Earth that give us the courtesy of a warning. This western diamond-backed rattlesnake, (Crotalus atrox), is one of several that I see quite often around our buildings. Bites from this potent species are very serious, but also very rare IF one simply pays constant, close attention to where one’s feet and hands are placed when outdoors. We never kill these snakes, (nor any others, for that matter). Most diamondbacks are shy and inoffensive if left alone. Quite abundant in many habitat types, diamondbacks play a very important role in local ecology by helping to control rodent populations.

Of the world’s 36 species of known rattlesnakes, surely the black-tailed rattlesnake, (Crotalus molossus), would win one of the top prizes for sheer beauty. My wife and I spent half and hour watching and photographing this unagressive, beguiling individual. We found it basking, suspended several feet off the ground among tree branches in a walnut – velvet mesquite bosque. This one was large for its kind, close to 48 inches in length.

I had to radically adjust my search image for local rattlesnakes when I uncovered this snake in our shed, an Arizona black rattlesnake, (Crotalus cerberus), curled up beneath an inverted wheelbarrow. Before that moment, my search image had concerned itself only with the grays and dull browns of western diamondbacks; black rattlesnakes were not “known” to inhabit low-elevation places like our valley-floor bosque, situated at 3,100 feet. Since then, I have recorded this species locally several more times.

The Mohave rattlesnake, (Crotalus scutulatus), is the most potent rattlesnake in the entire American west, injecting substantial amounts of strong neurotoxic venom when it bites. This one emerged from under a stack of lumber that I had been working with, furnishing an unforgettable reminder that only fools slip their hands under wood stacked outdoors without looking carefully beforehand.

The most reliable way to visually identify Mohave rattlesnakes is to get a close look at their supraocular scales that lie atop the head between the snake’s eyes. It is difficult to do this safely without a good pair of binoculars with close-focusing ability. Diamondbacks can look quite similar to Mojave rattlesnakes, but their supraocular scales are much smaller and more numerous. Adding to identification difficulties, the two species have been known to hybridize in Cochise County.

Small and inoffensive, ring-necked snakes, (Diadophis punctatus) are common in the San Pedro River Drainage.

When threatened by a predator, ring-necked snakes may flip themselves upside-down, feigning death while revealing their striking, aposematically-colored ventral side.

Eastern patch-nosed snakes, (Salvadora grahamiae) feel like smooth satin when handled. This species is always among the earliest to emerge when the weather begins to warm in the valley, often above ground by mid-March. Note the heavy scale at the proximal end of the snake’s head, armoring for its snout as it digs underground in loose soils.

Upon lifting a pile of old branches and debris one day, I exposed this incredibly tiny snake, a highly fossorial species I had never seen before. My first thought was, “I never knew earthworms lived on our bosque,” until I looked closer and picked it up. Coiled in my palm with room to spare was this amazing western threadsnake, (Rena humilis). Threadsnakes prey on ants, ant eggs, ant larvae, and termites. They are a favorite prey item for Sonoran coralsnakes.

Replace ignorance with knowledge.
Be kind to snakes.

A Snake’s Worst Nightmare, Beautiful Autumnal Creatures, and Lightning far too Close for Comfort – Again!

The snake pictured above is a black-tailed rattlesnake, Crotalus molossus. Of the nine species of rattlesnakes inhabiting Cochise County in southeastern Arizona, this one is my favorite. (If you don’t see the image, it is because you are reading this in your email. Click on the blog’s title to be redirected to my blog website for a better, more inclusive experience. Once there, simply scroll down the title page to quickly find this most recent post.) 

If snakes could talk, when asked the question “what is hell?,” they would likely answer “any place where people are.” Many people kill snakes on sight, and others run them over with vehicles – often a brutal, intentional action. If snakes have dreams, surely one of their worst nightmares would involve becoming entangled in certain types of fencing, like chicken wire or plastic mesh. A snake can slip its head through the openings in these kinds of fencing easily. The trouble comes as the reptile moves forward. As the body thickens behind the neck, there comes a point when the snake becomes trapped. Scales on snakes overlap and point backward. The wire or plastic mesh gets caught under the scales, making it impossible for the snake to back out. A long, slow death is the inevitable outcome. I have seen live and dead snakes trapped in fencing more than a few times, especially in chicken wire and in various types of plastic mesh and bird netting. The bottom line is simple: if you care about snakes, don’t use these types of fencing! Find another way.

Late this summer, a neighbor called requesting my help to free this 4-foot Sonoran whipsnake, (Masticophis bilineatus). The snake was badly entangled in some plastic mesh fencing. It took quite some time with a pair of small scissors to free the snake. This feisty whipsnake tried to bite me repeatedly during the delicate procedure.

Sonoran whipsnakes are among the desert’s most beautiful reptiles. They are capable of incredibly fast movements much like their cousins, the coachwhips. Large, capable eyes give this creature excellent long-range vision for hunting its prey and avoiding predators. These snakes are semi-arboreal, often found high in the mesquite trees, where they move with skilled grace in search of lizards and bird nests. This one had skin that felt like fine silk, remarkably smooth to the touch.

October brought this 3-foot Sonoran gopher snake to our residence. I have never seen gopher snakes as richly colored as the individuals I have encountered in this river valley. They are Arizona’s longest ophidians, (reaching lengths exceeding eight feet) and they are always more than welcome here. Few predators are more adept at capturing mice, rats, and pocket gophers, for these animals can do what most other predators cannot – they can crawl down into the rodents’ burrows.

Nowhere else have I seen box turtles as gorgeously marked as our local variety. This is an adult – some of these turtles lose their stripes, fading to a solid brown as they get older, but not this one. The species is Terapene ornata, otherwise known as the ornate box turtle.

Yet another Gila monster visited our property this year. This one was an adult measuring close to 14 inches in length. These lizards are readily identifiable as distinct individuals, for their complex markings are never the same, somewhat like our fingerprints.

The track of an opossum may be a common sight east of the Mississippi, but here it is something special. Most of the opossums in this valley are representatives of a Sierra Madrean subspecies, reaching the northern tip of their range here in SE Arizona. This distinctive footprint, along with others, appeared in the fine dust under my ramada early one morning.

Southern Arizona is among the top places in the nation for frequency of lightning strikes. Summer monsoon storms can be fierce and utterly unforgettable, particularly when they occur after dark. On the first day of September, a bolt slammed to the ground some 55 feet from where I had been seated. The bolt followed this upright support post on an open shed as it made its way downward. The carbonized streak is clearly visible on the post. The electromagnetic pulse from this strike fried our home telephone system.

April arrives, but where are the birds?

I have always looked forward to the month of April in southeastern Arizona, for it brings a great diversity and large numbers of migrant birds to the land – or does it? The first time that I birded the San Pedro River was in April of 1977. In a word, that was a stunning experience. The numbers of birds were incredible, as were the variety of species. Today, the story could hardly be more different.

Migrant songbirds (and other migratory species) have been steadily declining ever since Europeans began to populate the North American continent. The rate of decline was slow at first, but it has increased continually through the centuries. During the past several decades, declines in bird populations have become so severe that some birds have become extinct, while others are persisting by the thinnest of threads.

Here in the Middle San Pedro Valley, I have been participating in avian  surveys and have been keeping detailed records of local bird life for 21 years. The data is disheartening, but this year has been the worst thus far. Numerous species that have appeared on schedule at our property every past April are simply not appearing. Many others are here in very low numbers. Sadly, close to 100% of these declines are attributable to mankind. Overpopulation, urban expansion, climate change, pesticides and herbicides, tremendous habitat losses, loose house cats, and more add up to a world that is becoming quieter and quieter every spring. 

What is spring without bird song?

Other happenings in the natural world have been occurring as well, ones that are not disheartening. Lizards and snakes have awakened from their winter brumation to add their grace, color, and life to the land. A few days ago, a Sonoran gopher snake appeared a few feet from my doorway, followed by the year’s first diamondback rattlesnake and the emergence of Clark’s spiny lizards. Our resident ravens, Mike and Mavis, have successfully hatched yet another brood and are very busy keeping their youngsters well fed. A nice abundance of wildflowers is coloring the upland slopes.

The gopher snake mentioned above. We always welcome these harmless and beautiful reptiles. They play an effective role in controlling rodent populations.

This was a slender male, close to 3 1/2 feet in length. Sonoran gopher snakes can attain lengths approaching eight feet, making them one of the nation’s longest native ophidians.

A closer look reveals the large, curved, robust rostral scale at the forward tip of the snake’s head. This kind of scalation evolved to shield and protect the heads of gopher snakes as they push their way through soil and pursue rodents deep into their burrows.

Every year in this valley seems to bring its own explosion of certain insects. Earlier this month, incredible numbers of crane flies could be seen. I recall walks where every step flushed 20 or more from the surface of the ground. Crane flies belong to the family Tipulidae, with over 15,000 species worldwide. They are a successful and adaptable group of insects, for their presence in the fossil record dates back over 70,000,000 million years.

A pair of crane flies, busy assuring that their kind has a future. These innocuous insects are sometimes called “mosquito hawks,” for the mistaken belief that they prey on mosquitoes.

On a recent walk in the valley with a friend, we paused to admire this rare cristate saguaro, made even rarer by its unusual paired, symmetrical shape.

Incredibly, on the very same day, another friend was roaming the valley when he discovered this huge, cristate specimen. Photo by Gilbert Urias.

April brings the return of turkey vultures. Here, one has landed to scrutinize one of our bird watering dishes. Among several unique aspects of these vultures is the fact that they have no syrinx – the organ that allows birds to vocalize. Turkey vultures can hiss by expelling air rapidly, but they cannot call to one another nor utter any sort of song.

A close look at the vulture’s head reveals a large perforation in the bird’s beak. When viewed at just the right angle, one can see that the large hole goes all the way through the beak to the other side. Turkey vultures locate the majority of their food via a keen sense of smell, an unusual trait among most other birds. The perforated beak likely helps these birds to smell with great facility, channeling airflow into their nasal scent receptors. (The quality of this enlarged image is poor due to limits that my blog hosting service places on image resolution.)

Shallow watering dishes can do wonders for attracting bird life and many other desert animals as well.

A wonderful and always reassuring sight! The riparian forest that is so deeply important to the valley’s wildlife glows with a verdant spring canopy of cottonwood and willow leaves. The color contrast between the riverside forest and the surrounding uplands is strong in April. The forest – a true hallmark of this valley – is completely dependent upon the San Pedro River and its subterranean aquifers.

A Thousand Songs Under the Cover of Darkness, Floods Transform the Land, and the Wonderful Creatures of October

Darkness settles over the land. Many miles from the lights and sounds of towns and cities, Arizona’s Middle San Pedro Valley sprawls wild and still. At twilight, only a faint poorwill and a pair of great horned owls can be heard. The coyote telegraph erupts and then fades as it travels from ridge to distant ridge. In contrast to the rich variety of summer  sounds, an autumnal hush blankets the countryside.

At day’s end, dusk gently ebbs into darkness as a brilliant October moon emerges from the far shores of the eastern horizon. Here, in our mesquite bosque, the peace and comfort of the night suddenly give rise to a thousand voices raised in the jubilance of courtship. These are sweet, almost melodic sounds – October’s distinctive nocturnal biophony. Tree crickets are singing from the ancient trees, thousands of them spread across the valley floor, their songs a vivid proclamation of thriving life within an otherwise quiet forest.

This species of tree cricket sings from the tall mesquites in our bosque. Its ecology is intimately connected to velvet mesquite trees. These are small insects with a big voice.

I have come to love the sounds of these delicate, gossamer-winged insects. Long after summer’s insect frenzy, when most species have faded from the scene, tree crickets come to life in the coolness of October nights. The males raise their transparent wings, then call to the females by stridulating – in other words, they rub certain parts of their bodies together to produce a surprising volume of sound.  Females are drawn to these love songs. The males go one step farther by offering their mates a special  reward. After mating, metanotal glands located on the dorsal side of the male’s abdomen secrete a substance that the female feeds on.

Eight species of tree crickets inhabit southeastern Arizona, where they produce two generations each year. The ones singing in local October bosques belong to the genus Oecanthus. Each species has its own unique song. However, even among the same species, sound can vary quite a bit depending upon air temperature. The frequency (or pitch) of the crickets’ songs increases as temperatures rise and slows as temperatures fall.

A bizarre butterfly landed on my screen door last week – an American snout butterfly, Libytheana carinenta. Last year, large numbers of these butterflies erupted all over the valley in late summer. Snout butterflies use their strange shape to blend in with their surroundings. When perched on a plant stem, their elongated “snout” breaks up the outline of their bodies, resembling a broken twig or a thorn. The range of snout butterflies extends all the way to South America. They are known for migrating across landscapes in huge aggregations. 

A study in camouflage, the American snout butterfly sports wings that blend well with tree bark and a unique body shape that helps to conceal the insect when at rest.

This summer’s plentiful monsoon rains have continued well into October. Since the monsoon began on June 18, our rain gauge has recorded an amazing 13.46 inches of life-giving rainfall. 

One of the local washes experienced some large summer floods. I took a walk down this wash with a friend a few weeks ago, to have a look at the powerful changes wrought upon the land by the big floods. What we saw was in stark contrast to the wash I had known from walks during the past several years.

During recent times, this broad wash had been covered by a wall-to-wall effusion of burro bush (Hymenoclea) standing six or more feet tall with a galaxy of roots anchoring the bushes to the ground. The flood had erased most of that growth, leaving behind a clear streambed lined with heaps of debris – tree trunks, plant material, rocks, and more. The floor of the big wash had been totally rearranged, its topography and course markedly changed during a couple of events that lasted only days.

In places where floodwaters form swirling, circular eddies, holes are dug into the wash floor like this one. These depressions can be very large and quite deep. They often hold pools of surface water that can last for months after flooding, a valuable offering to birds, mammals, and other wild creatures in this desert ecosystem.

Powerful floods like these transport thousands of tons of boulders, rocks, gravel, sand, clay, and a wide variety of organic materials – whole trees, cacti, and other plants.  Downstream, entire soil profiles are altered and built as sediments settle from the turbid waters. Cutbanks collapse, dropping great layers of soil into the roiling floodwaters, releasing seeds that have lain dormant from ancient times into the present-day   ecosystem. Old genetics from times long gone may invigorate plant populations and enhance the genetic variability – and hence, the viability – of modern plant communities.

Most people would simply label this collapse of a stream-side cutbank as “erosion.” That is an accurate use of the word, but I see much more going on here.

Debris piles left along the stream banks can be very large, consisting primarily of tangled, broken bushes, parts of trees, and other plant matter. They provide shelter and denning sites for small mammals, reptiles, amphibians, and other creatures. Floods are not all bad – they are simply a natural, intrinsic agent of change, some of it beneficial, some not. People often label floods as “bad,” but that viewpoint roots in anthropocentric thinking, a myopic way to  view our world.

The ecology of many native species of plants and animals actually depends upon flood events. The beautiful stands of cottonwoods that line the San Pedro River could not exist were it not for floods creating the specific conditions that their seeds require for germination. The riparian forests that accompany the river depend upon having their roots tap into  subsurface aquifers. The aquifers get recharged when floods happen.

As floodwaters recede, the bed of the San Pedro River leaves records of local wildlife in the drying mud. Here, the patterning of fine surface cracks results from a place where the river water subsided very gradually with little or no turbulence, resulting in the deposition of extremely fine clay particles. As these clay deposits dry, they crack in characteristic patterns.

October typically brings us the last ophidian visitors of the year, most of them not to be seen until next spring. A beautiful gopher snake was here last week, and as I write this, a diamondback is curled up a short ways from my entry door.

An October gopher snake, crawling along the wall of one of our buildings. This one was a male, measuring right around 63 inches in length. Always welcome here, as are all snakes.

The year’s last generation of pipevine swallowtail butterflies occurs in October. I found this gorgeous caterpillar recently – it is either in the fourth or fifth (last) instar of its development, after which it will climb a plant stem and metamorphose into a chrysalis suspended by a single loop of silk as it waits out the winter season. The leaves visible in this image are pipevine leaves, (Aristolochia), the only plant that these caterpillars feed upon.

October is THE month for seeing pinacate beetles (Eleodes spp.) – they are literally everywhere at this time of year, easily noticed because of their large size, slow movements, and diurnal habits. When they feel threatened, pinacate beetles stop moving and assume this head-stand posture. If the threat escalates, (for example, when a bird tries to grab the beetle), the beetles fire a noxious, very disagreeable fluid from the tip of their erected abdomen. Chemical defenses are very common among many insect species.

Just a few days ago, I noticed this small tuft of feathers laying on the ground. Immediately, I began searching the area for more, because such a find usually indicates that a bird was recently preyed upon somewhere nearby.

I soon found many feathers like this, their shafts intact. Intact shafts indicate feathers that were pulled out, not bitten and yanked out as mammals do. So this was the work of a predatory bird, likely a Cooper’s hawk that I have been seeing frequently of late. This was a special find, for these feathers could have come from only one species, a gilded flicker. Gilded flickers are relatively rare in local bosque habitats.

A Photographic Tour of Early Summer Life Along the San Pedro River

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Summer has come to the river and its valleys, bringing a cavalcade of change to the animal world. Today, my thermometer registered 113° F. I don’t leave southern Arizona during the summer like so many people do every year. This is my favorite season here, because so much happens in the natural world during the fierce heat of summer…

Mike and Mavis have successfully raised their seventh brood here on our land. This year, four new ravens have fledged and left the nest. Here are two of them. Note the pinkish-white bordering around their beaks and their pink mouths. As they mature, the pinkish color on their beaks disappears, and the inside of their mouths turns black.

Several weeks ago, the velvet mesquite trees erupted with fresh blossoms. These are the precursors to an abundance of bean pods that provide one of the most crucially important food sources for the valley’s wildlife.

A closer look at the flowers of a velvet mesquite tree. These blossoms perfume the air with a sweet, heady fragrance.

A queen butterfly alights to drink from the wet mud surrounding our watering hole. This insect is often mistaken for its well-known cousin, the monarch.

The back side of a male Gould’s turkey in full display. These birds – and their tails – are huge! The white tips on the tail feathers are one of the field marks that distinguish this race of wild turkeys from their eastern relatives. Part of the display involves dragging the wing tips on the ground, an action that creates a loud rasping sound, meant to intimidate rival males.

A male summer tanager comes to feed from a block of suet. This is America’s only all-red bird, a living statement of resplendent color and grace. Their future in this valley is being threatened by large numbers of brown-headed cowbirds.

This male black-headed grosbeak has been sending his voice through the bosque every morning, a series of loud, robin-like notes.

Few of our western birds are more strikingly colored than the western tanager. A different race of this species stays here in the valley floor to breed every summer. Most western tanagers utilize very different breeding habitats – namely, conifer forests at higher elevations.

A male blue grosbeak that visits daily for water. Blue is one of the rarest of colors among Earth’s terrestrial vertebrate animals.

A new beaver dam graces the flow of the San Pedro River. Dams like this permit substantially more water to infiltrate the ground below their surfaces, recharging the shallow aquifers that give life to the river’s riparian forests of cottonwoods and willow trees. There were five more dams below this one. I cannot think of a single mammalian species that is more beneficial to the river and its forests than beavers are.

I awoke one morning to find this characteristic fresh imprint at the foot of my entry steps. A rattlesnake had curled up there the night prior, leaving its signature circular mark. No other Arizona snakes rest in such a circular position. For reference, the grizzly track cast in concrete is six inches in width. Grizzlies were once common along this river until they were wiped out by Spanish and American settlers.

A black-tailed jackrabbit resting in the shade of a mesquite trunk on a toasty summer day. When the heat cranks up, animal behavior changes. This hare let me approach within four feet, something it would not have allowed on a cooler day. The name “jackrabbit” is a misnomer, as these creatures are hares, not rabbits.


Until I came to live in southeastern Arizona, I would not have believed that there could be pink snakes native to our country. This coachwhip snake appeared on a hot afternoon, five feet of blazing bubblegum pinkness!

Coachwhip snakes are expert climbers. Kathleen and I looked out a window one day to see this tail protruding from an active Gila woodpecker nest. Fortunately, the snake did not wipe out the entire brood – it consumed one or two nestlings and moved on.

A gopher snake encountered on a sandy bank of the San Pedro River. These snakes attain lengths of seven feet or more and are often mistaken for rattlesnakes. They are among the most effective rodent controllers we have. Favored food items include mice, rats, and gophers.

A diamondback rattlesnake slithers through the mesquite bosque, traveling in a manner common among rattlesnakes, using caterpillar motion. When snakes crawl in this fashion, their bodies remain almost straight rather than sinuously curved. We never kill these animals. They have a right to live here, no less than we do. When summer comes, we are always on guard, watching closely where we place every footstep, especially after dark.

Beavers add a special touch of beauty to the river, creating ponds that mirror their surroundings and provide needed habitat for a long list of other creatures.