Ring-necked Snake, Boom Bridge

I was on my way home from a trek through the Bell Cedar Swamp in search of, well, anything interesting or, at least, different, when I spotted a slender, dark wriggling shape at the edge of the road. Typically, this would mean "earthworm" doing its best to exit the gene pool, and I, inconsistent evolutionary biologist that I am, would thwart its actions by capturing the critter and putting it out of harm's way in the leaf litter. But this wasn't a worm. Rather, it was the smallest Ring-necked Snake I'd ever seen. The tiny reptile was only about four inches long, and, no doubt, had recently hatched. For whatever reason, it seemed to think that nirvana lay across the street and it was headed in that direction. More likely, its intended path would bring a bad end, either under the wheels of a car or into the belly of a predator. Ring-neckeds are certainly common enough, and if I were true to evolutionary principles, I'd have let nature take its course. I quickly decided against philosophy and convinced the snake to turn tail and head back towards the relative safety of the high grass and sheltering stone walls. Before it slithered out of sight, I took advantage of the photo op.