On a bright June morning, while getting ready for a camping trip, my boy spotted something moving quietly beneath our pickup. It’s a standard part of being a dad to get your attention drawn away by the kids, especially when you’re trying to pull off a full blown operation for their benefit. As was usual during such times, I was busy packing and didn’t want to see what he was trying to point out. “Oh my gosh, look Dad!” he said. And when I did look, I saw it too–a long reddish brown snake with round black eyes and stripped scales on his neck. While I’m sometimes turned off by people putting human emotions, or human characteristics on animals, (Anthropomorphism isn’t necessarily harmless), I could swear that this snake actually appeared to be introducing himself to us.
Of course, I had to catch him for a minute–to get a better look. He was a coachwhip snake, and he didn’t really fuss about it. I held him gently but firmly by his whip-like tail. We got some pictures and admired him for a few minutes. His visit constituted a rare show of desert hospitality. When we were satisfied, we let him go, and off he slithered into a pile of warm rocks near the fence, presumably to catch some breakfast. My boy’s eyes were left wide open, and my eyebrows lifted. We’d seen many wild snakes before. But this time, a snake had come to see us.
The Desert Toad 