"I've found a sheded snake skin!" shouted Michael as he ran over to me. He'd been playing in the now-dry culvert that crosses Orchard Glen, the main picnic area in Palo Alto's Foothills Park, right next to where we were set up to eat. This is a boy who likes snakes, a lot. For a while he was asking for one as a pet nearly every day. And while I've demurred on the pet snake question, I thought it would be nice to see a skin. Maybe the rangers would even let us take it home. I went to look. There was a skin alright. But it was still full of snake -- baby rattlesnake, no less. And baby rattlers, I was quickly informed by several friends at the picnic who grew up hereabouts, are much more venomous than adults as they lack the ability to ration out the poison in their bites. After I'd confirmed that it was indeed a living rattlesnake, I kept my distance. Hence the rather blurry shot.
Our friend Bill, meanwhile, nipped up to the ranger station on his motorbike to tell them what we'd found and within minutes they'd come down the hill to find us.
The rangers brought a sack to put the snake in, carefully picked the little fellow up, plopped him in and and tied up the sack.
Michael followed them to their truck, clearly anxious, his eyes tearing up. As I caught up to him, I heard the lady Ranger telling him not to worry. "We're just putting him somewhere else in the park where he won't bother people and they won't bother him."
The snake-loving boy still looked anxiously at them. "Is that okay?" I asked him. "Yes. Okay," he said.