For all I knew at the time, it might have been a common variation that regularly appeared in the local population of these snakes. I hunted the area only sporadically for a year or two in the early 1960's and never saw another Blacktail there. I suspect they were never abundant in Comal County and probably, with the extensive development surrounding the lake, are even less so now.

One late Spring afternoon some family friends, with whom I was staying near the dam site, returned from a fishing trip on the Guadalupe River below the community of Sattler. Fully aware of my interest in reptiles, they mentioned that they had shot a "rattler" at a low-water crossing on the road to Sattler, about two miles from where we were staying. They said that the snake was "not a Diamondback," but they were sure it was a rattlesnake. That was enough to set me out on a hike overland toward the canyon that drained through that crossing.

When I arrived at the crossing it was nearly dusk but I easily located the snake's body. It was on the north side of the road, near the culvert, exactly as it had been described to me. The snake was an adult male. The body was still supple and, although this was the first Blacktail I had seen in the wild, I had seen enough captives from the Hill Country to immediately recognize that this one was indeed unusual.

The ground color of this snake, unlike the grayish-olive typical of Edwards Plateau Blacktails, was a striking pale or "powder" blue. This was a real blue, not the gray-blue occasionally seen in some rattlers. The crossbands progressed from black at the edges through a rich chestnut hue (resembling the darker bands of a Broadbanded Copperhead), and became a lighter tan toward the center.

Dorsally, the crossbands were separated from each other, in the usual Blacktail fashion, by splotches of cream-colored pigment, resembling the frosting on a pastry. All normally black portions of the pattern were unaffected. The tail was typical of the species, but the black mask on the head was especially striking against the pale blue ground color. The ventral coloration was normal. Forty years and many rattlesnakes later, I can still say that this was the most beautiful rattler I have ever seen.

I have mentally kicked myself often for leaving the snake there along the roadside. Nagging doubts began to form even during the hike back up the canyon through the darkness. Rationalizing, I have told myself that I was just a kid and I had no means of preserving it. Even if I had, the colors would have quickly faded. I did not even have a camera with me, which was just as well since I had not mastered the art of exposing color film.

I slept fitfully that night and arose with a resolve to retrieve the snake, ice it down, and recruit a better photographer to record its colors. Out of respect for my hosts, I dawdled around until after breakfast before starting the hike back down the canyon. En route, I stopped to turn the occasional rock or log, assured in my conviction that no one would have removed the snake from the roadside.

By the time I arrived within sight of the low-water crossing at the bottom of the canyon, the sun had fully crested the eastern ridge and the temperature had risen into the high 70s. It was a good morning to be alive and herping in some wonderful country.

My mood soon changed.  At first one and then four or five more Turkey Vultures flapped grudgingly into the air from the culvert area as I approached. My heart sank. The snake was not where I had left it. I looked frantically through the weeds but could not find the corpse. Gradually, my vision refined itself and I began to notice scattered clumps of bloodstained vertebrae with ribs still attached.

In the two or three hours since dawn, the vultures had reduced the entire snake into nothing more than forty or fifty clumps of bone. Search as I might, not a trace of the beautiful blue skin could be found, not even the head. I eventually found the rattle with a few tatters of black scales attached. It was incomplete, consisting of seven slightly tapering segments. I kept that rattle for many years afterward.

Admittedly, this happened a long time ago. Even I might suspect this tale had been "colored" by time or senility. That is, if I had not taken the trouble to scribble down some notes about the coloration the same evening that I observed it (believe me, it took considerable motivation for my then fourteen-year old self to record field notes!).