“What now?” Calvin asked.

“Shove his head in the bag, but don’t let go.” Calvin did. “All right, I’m going to grab its head from the outside. Don’t let go until I tell you.” Calvin nodded and I grabbed his wrist from outside the bag and worked my way to his fingers, then grasped the rattler on either side of its head. “You can let go,” I said.

“Thank God,” Calvin said.

I pushed the rest of the snake into the bag and cinched it closed.

The students applauded, rather weakly. I hated the attention and moved off with the snake. I stopped and turned back to them. “What Calvin did was reckless and stupid. No offense, Calvin. If you see a snake, just remain calm and call me or Professor Gill.” I turned and walked away.

Hilary caught up to me. “I don’t want them calling me when they find snakes,” she said, almost laughing.

“Hell, I don’t want them calling me either. At least you’ll be calm and not do something crazy like Calvin back there.”

“What are you going to do with the snake?” Rachel asked. She had trotted over after Hilary.

“I’m going to let him go.”

“May I come?”

I looked at Hilary. She smiled and walked away.

“Okay,” I said to Rachel. “Come on.”

She walked with me into the desert. The sounds and voices of the campsite faded away, though I imagined I could feel some of them watching us.

“That was really amazing,” she said.

“Not really.”

“I’m sorry about last night.”

“At least this isn’t a big snake,” I said.

“I hope it didn’t make you too uncomfortable.”

“Just uncomfortable enough,” I said.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

We walked farther perhaps than needed and rather unceremoniously set the animal free in a wash. It didn’t move away but did raise its head, smelled the air, ignored us. I did not take this personally. I looked at the anhydrous hills and was overcome by sudden formless, unshaped worry. I needed the snake to move before I left that spot. I grabbed an ocotillo branch and touched the rattler. It slithered off without rattling.

“Wow,” Rachel said, squeezing my arm.

I pulled away. “Back to camp,” I said.

Branta canadensis. The five bones from pack rat nests are from at least three different individuals. One femur and an ulna might be Branta canadensis parvipes, known to winter in the state.

Late that afternoon, after the hikes and lectures and the oppressive heat, many of the students decided to make the longish drive back to Los Angeles. A few wanted to camp one more night, it being a long weekend, something about Columbus. If any were staying, I was staying. Hilary chose to remain as well. The smaller group did not sort themselves into clutches but remained together sitting around a fire. Of course Rachel remained. I didn’t know if her sexual partner from the previous night was there or not, as I never saw his face. Regardless, she unfortunately seemed unattached to anyone there and kept a conspicuous eye on me through the flames. We did the cliché thing of roasting marshmallows and hot dogs and actually listened to one another. Hilary got them talking by asking if anyone had ever been lost. A couple had stories of being lost as children.