Liz Payne writes from Tucson:

Loving the cooler weather, and the snakes are loving warm concrete. Last night on our evening constitutional, touring the streets around our pristine, grass-filled-Palm-Springs-esque (not a native plant in sight) townhouse, we enjoyed our own bat night along the Tanque Verde wash, with another amazing sunset.

Just as we arrived home, we came upon a tiny new 8” rattler who seemed a bit squished. Robert poked at it, and unexpectedly raised it from the dead. As soon as the bugger figured out what was going on, it coiled into position—tail rattling like mad (well, vibrating: it was little). We ditched the dogs and quickly formulated a catch and release. Grabbed a shovel (Roberto) and broom (Liz) to brush the snake into said spade.

I swept at it a bit to no avail, but after a few fierce  strikes, we relocated the critter squarely onto the shovel. Robert took off down the street, where he planned to pitch it where the concrete descends and stops abruptly about eight feet above the dry creek. It was almost dark by now, and of course the uncooperative creature fell off several times from here to there, each time moving faster and getting angrier. Needless to say, it was quite pissy by the time Robert neared the guardrail.

Robert, racing with writhing snake, cleared the railing ok, but when he hit the ground, I yelled “ahhhhhhhhhh!”

Baby rattler flew through the air; Robert careened to a halt. Just in front of the three-and-a-half-foot rattler now at his feet, lazing along the edge of the wash.

Great way to end the relaxation of a mesmerizing sunset.