When the moment was finally over, when the snake was back in its dark hide, and the handshakes and high-fives and backslaps were done, I took a look around.  This was Ridgenose country, all right - a wooded, montane canyon with a stream somewhere below.  The picture in my mind's eye was now adjusted to the reality before me.  The little rattlers blended in well with the soil and the rocks, and with deciduous leaves as well.  I was standing on one little part of the small spot on the map that was the extent of this snake's range.  Here there would be plenty of lizards and centipedes and nestling birds and small rodents for willardi to prey upon.

Lunch for a Ridgenose - Huachuca Earless Lizard

On the way back down the canyon, our little group was strung out over a distance.  We kept an eye out for more herps, but the sun's rays were really bearing down now, and our thoughts were turning to our rumbling stomachs.

I had stopped to wait for Steve as he poked around in a crevice, when I heard a faint, buzzing sound.  I knew that sound now - I had just heard it a half hour ago.  This time, it was coming from a clump of grass right next to my boot!  I carefully parted the thick clump with my snake hook, and there was my second Ridgenose of the day, coiled up and buzzing at me!  Two willardi, and both located by ear!  What a day it was turning out to be.

I snapped a few pictures and we let the fifteen inch snake crawl into the shade under an emory oak. How many of these little creatures did we pass by today?  Two was plenty, I suppose.  We hadn't been in Arizona more than twelve hours and we had already knocked a 'big snake' off the list.  Jeff, our host, had more than a little to do with that.  He put us on the right road to Ridgenose country.

The rest of our trip lay in front us and seemed full of promise.