What is it?

There its settled its a racer looks just like the OP's pic.

http://images.google.com/imgres?imgu...a%3DG%26um%3D1

I got ya Wes.

Google images is soo much easier than heated debates. Then again I know how Wes love his debates. Sometimes think that he lives for them. lol. :D
Either way I would let the little guy go so he can get big and make some more evil little babies. :D
Heres a little bigger one getting darker. http://rlv.zcache.com/young_black_ra...85vsu7_500.jpg

[QUOTE=sg1trogdor;1046455]There its settled its a racer looks just like the OP's pic.

http://images.google.com/imgres?imgu...a%3DG%26um%3D1

I got ya Wes.[/QUOTE

Yup.

Never a doubt here.

Comes with the arrogance which comes with the being right so often.

Now, if I could just get my head through my own front door....

Guys.. baby racers are born with a funny little speckled pattern. Big round ones on top, and little ones on the sides... Black rat snakes are born with a saddle pattern similar to that of a cornsnake (obviously without all the colors). NOT speckled sides. That is not, in any way, a black rat snake. You can clearly see the speckles all over the snake, and the way that they are reddish in color, not to mention his very large, angry looking amber/red eyes that say "im a racer and I am not happy with you" that racers have. The sharp labial markings and head shape are also wrong for a black rat. Baby black rats tend to have a big clunky head that looks too big for its body/neck. You can also kind of see how smooth and velvety the skin. It's a baby racer... of one species or another. it look's like it has had some time to mature a little bit to be as dark as he is. here's pictures of a newborn southern black racer I hatched. They are born light gray with red speckles, which quickly turns to very dark grayish black with speckles, like the one the OP posted... which in black racers, turns to, just all black. Unfortunately I don't have any pictures of him once he turned darker. They are REALLY, REALLY mean. Mine sat at the front of his enclosure all the time hissing and coiling at me, and would even come out of hiding to do it! Sorry but I can't tell what species the OP's snake is!!!

http://i286.photobucket.com/albums/l.../Other/024.jpg

http://i286.photobucket.com/albums/l.../Other/031.jpg

Scuffing his heels as he ambled down the dirt road the man whistled tunelessly, lips puckered, brows furrowed in contemplation, one foot leading the other down a road he had been on for a looooong time.

Bright, the sun. Hot too. But up ahead, just around the next curve over the top of the hill, was a pond. Deep and still, one end covered, protected, by a giant willow tree, the far end a gushing stream only a few feet wide but determined to be heard from across the water. There he would rest, sit his self down and contemplate, wonder at, muse over, just plain think about, how some folks just couldn't admit they were wrong.

He'd wonder why they couldn't. He'd think about why they didn't. He'd make up entire conversations with imaginary people just to talk out his theories but in the end he just didn't understand.

Of course, he couldn't remember the last time he had been wrong about something but he was sure he had been, must have been; wasn't everyone, sometime?

And there he'll sit, thinking and never understanding, trying to empathize but having no personal history to relate to, to fall back on, to learn from because the Arrogant SOB is right.

Again.

LOL

Quote:

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Originally Posted by wilomn

Scuffing his heels as he ambled down the dirt road the man whistled tunelessly, lips puckered, brows furrowed in contemplation, one foot leading the other down a road he had been on for a looooong time.

Bright, the sun. Hot too. But up ahead, just around the next curve over the top of the hill, was a pond. Deep and still, one end covered, protected, by a giant willow tree, the far end a gushing stream only a few feet wide but determined to be heard from across the water. There he would rest, sit his self down and contemplate, wonder at, muse over, just plain think about, how some folks just couldn't admit they were wrong.

He'd wonder why they couldn't. He'd think about why they didn't. He'd make up entire conversations with imaginary people just to talk out his theories but in the end he just didn't understand.

Of course, he couldn't remember the last time he had been wrong about something but he was sure he had been, must have been; wasn't everyone, sometime?

And there he'll sit, thinking and never understanding, trying to empathize but having no personal history to relate to, to fall back on, to learn from because the Arrogant SOB is right.

Again.

LOL

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Are you describing yourself here? :8:

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by wilomn

Scuffing his heels as he ambled down the dirt road the man whistled tunelessly, lips puckered, brows furrowed in contemplation, one foot leading the other down a road he had been on for a looooong time.

Bright, the sun. Hot too. But up ahead, just around the next curve over the top of the hill, was a pond. Deep and still, one end covered, protected, by a giant willow tree, the far end a gushing stream only a few feet wide but determined to be heard from across the water. There he would rest, sit his self down and contemplate, wonder at, muse over, just plain think about, how some folks just couldn't admit they were wrong.

He'd wonder why they couldn't. He'd think about why they didn't. He'd make up entire conversations with imaginary people just to talk out his theories but in the end he just didn't understand.

Of course, he couldn't remember the last time he had been wrong about something but he was sure he had been, must have been; wasn't everyone, sometime?

And there he'll sit, thinking and never understanding, trying to empathize but having no personal history to relate to, to fall back on, to learn from because the Arrogant SOB is right.

Again.

LOL

---

Beautiful.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by wilomn

Scuffing his heels as he ambled down the dirt road the man whistled tunelessly, lips puckered, brows furrowed in contemplation, one foot leading the other down a road he had been on for a looooong time.

Bright, the sun. Hot too. But up ahead, just around the next curve over the top of the hill, was a pond. Deep and still, one end covered, protected, by a giant willow tree, the far end a gushing stream only a few feet wide but determined to be heard from across the water. There he would rest, sit his self down and contemplate, wonder at, muse over, just plain think about, how some folks just couldn't admit they were wrong.

He'd wonder why they couldn't. He'd think about why they didn't. He'd make up entire conversations with imaginary people just to talk out his theories but in the end he just didn't understand.

Of course, he couldn't remember the last time he had been wrong about something but he was sure he had been, must have been; wasn't everyone, sometime?

And there he'll sit, thinking and never understanding, trying to empathize but having no personal history to relate to, to fall back on, to learn from because the Arrogant SOB is right.

Again.

LOL

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I may not always agree with you (in this case I had no idea who was right), but I do love reading your posts.