I guess the season has ended. I'm a little depressed about it; I had a hard time summoning some positive vibes on Scott and my drive back from South Jersey on Veterans Day (November 11th) - the same spot I'd visited with Chris and Frank just a week and a half before.

That November 1st trip was unlikely too, but the temps were up in the 60s, making the difference for the box turtles and fence lizards, at least.

Earlier in the day on the 11th I'd turned up a baby brown snake in the Mt. Moriah Cemetery:


Scott and I had been debating going out into South Jersey for a few days. The forecast high temperature of 50 degrees was probably too low, even with a nice blue sky and direct sunlight. Anything basking would be showing just a coil or two, and more likely than not it would be under something close to its den.

However poor the odds, we still had to give it a shot, if for no other reason than this is what we do: we herp, and if there's even a glimmer of hope, it's better than almost anything else we could be doing.

That said, the drive back had a mournful quality, like driving back from a funeral. We spoke little, and what we said was about the cold, sterile time to come.

It isn't all that bad; we're probably being babies about it. The one nice thing about winter is that in four months it will be spring again, and damn if we won't appreciate that when it comes.