A mile or two up the Juno Road,  we stopped to examine a DOR Great Plains Rat, similar in size and appearance to the GPR we captured the previous night on the Pandale Dirt.  We sadly left the carcass on the roadside for the inevitable vultures.  We're a small group, those of us who are dismayed to find a dead snake on the road.

Parking near the curved rock cut where the Blacktail was booted to safety and subsequently captured, we set up a photo shoot.  Ken and Steve hadn't seen this rattler yet, and Rick and I had only seen it by flashlight.  There were exclamations of pleasure and amazement as the bag was pulled away from this beautiful snake.  Nearly four feet in length, this snake's rattle had sixteen segments!  Rattlesnakes usually add a rattle segment each time they shed their skin, and have one or more segments break off while capturing prey, courtship, and so on. Rarely do they have such a large rattle as this one did.

Much of the Blacktail's distinctive beauty lies in its scales - nearly every scale is one color, as opposed to many other snakes whose patterns flow through scales.  As a result, the jagged dorsal pattern looks a bit blurred from a distance, but is very distinct when viewed up close.  Many judge the golden Blacktail from Arizona to be the most beautiful of all rattlesnakes, and deservedly so, but there is something to be said about these west Texas Blacktails.  The handsome brute coiled in front of our cameras bore the colors of its country, the tans and blacks and greys of its rocky environs, carrying the beauty of being a part of a greater whole. We would release this "cascabel del pais" where we had found it, to work on growing a seventeenth rattle segment.

With the afternoon sun beating down, we guided the Blacktail into a deep crevice where it could hide out of the sun until nightfall.  Finished with our picture taking, we wandered around the rock cut for a while, as it was still too early to road cruise.  Rick and I leaned against the guardrail on the roadside, with the Devil's River gurgling behind and below us, and admired the hill in front of us, covered with tall blooming sotol and ocotillo.

Out of a small canyon to our left flew a small bird with brilliant red markings, passing in front of us and then disappearing into the cottonwoods lining the riverbank.  Too small for a Cardinal, we realized we had just seen a male Vermilion Flycatcher (Pyrocephalus rubinus). We both shouted for Steve, who was several hundred feet away and came running over with his field glasses.  Rick and I spotted the bird several more times as it flitted amongst the cottonwoods, but we failed to lock Steve onto it before it disappeared on the far bank.  We felt bad for Steve, because this was one of the birds he had hoped to spot on our trip, and we knew he was disappointed.  Over the years, Steve has always pointed out birds of interest to the rest of us, and we have managed to learn quite a bit as a result of his passion for birds.  I was sorry we could not return the favor this time.

Late afternoon meant it was time to hit the road and start our second Juno Road run.  Near the end of our southbound leg, a very large Western Coachwhip (Masticophis flagellum testaceus) lay stretched across the road.  The snake zipped off the road and into the thornscrub before we could get the vehicle stopped, and was gone without a trace. Such is the scenario of many daytime coachwhip encounters.

Dusk found us on the southbound leg of our second circuit, and at Baker's Crossing there was a snake in the road - incredibly, another Baird's Rat Snake!  This specimen was a thirty inch male, a nice slate grey color, with darker longitudinal stripes running from head to tail. What were we to make of these snakes, these supposedly uncommon gems?  There were many highlights to this trip that we would remember and talk over, but none as poignant as this third bairdi.

It was dark now as we headed north on our third circuit.  Rattlesnake on the road! Steve and Ken called it correctly from their front seat vantage points.  It was a fair-sized Western Diamondback, a common snake that had eluded us on our first visit here.  This atrox strove mightily to crawl away from us, and neither coiled nor rattled.  I pinned it down with a hook and secured a hold behind the head, the wicked looking fangs most impressive by flashlight.  In short order the rattler was secured in a cloth bag and tucked into the "critter cooler" for photographs later.  The road was empty the rest of the evening, but ours was a jubilant mood as we headed back to camp, our night's work ended.