Coluber flagellum
Coachwhip
|
Eastern Coachwhip C. f. flagellum |
Red Racer C. f. piceus |
San Joaquin Coachwhip C. f. ruddocki |
Western Coachwhip C. f. testaceus |
|
Eastern Coachwhip C. f. flagellum |
Red Racer C. f. piceus |
San Joaquin Coachwhip C. f. ruddocki |
Western Coachwhip C. f. testaceus |







After a morning of unsuccessful Sand-Dune-Lizard-hunting, but massively successful dog play, we're heading back in the direction of Roswell (land of space alien crashes, you know) when I catch a glimpse of large snakitude at the side of the fairly busy road. It looks big, but that's all I can tell at first. We wait for the oncoming traffic to ease, pull a U-turn, drive back past it the other way, and pull over on the side of the road. I jump out with my wife's camera, look both ways before crossing the street (of course!), and hurry over to see what it is. Two snakes! Coachwhips! Romantically involved? But wait, the one on the bottom isn't moving ... it looks kinda ... dead, actually.
Sure enough, the top snake was alive, but the bottom one, not so much. The live one really wanted to be covering the dead one's body. I took a few photos but soon spooked the live one, which slithered off into the desert. Not wanting to leave my wife and sister pulled over on the side of the fairly busy road for too long, I headed back. We drove a little ways until the traffic eased so we could U-turn again, which meant we passed the site of apparent serpentine necrophilia one more time. When we did so, I saw that the live snake had come back and was once again back on top of the dead one. Creepy or sad? You be the judge.