One of the more exciting and satisfying aspects of herpetology 
is the chance to observe reptiles in their native habitats. Field excursions, especially if supplemented by reading, can greatly add to ones depth of knowledge and enjoyment of the field. They can be an exhilarating, sometimes euphoric, experience which can be of added benefit if notes and photographs are taken and freely 
shared both in the private and scientific communities. Online forums dedicated to the sharing of such field experiences by herpetologists and amateur hobbyists alike provide an excellent method of sharing and learning, as well as a place to spend the winter waiting for the reptiles to become active again. Local herpetological societies now flourish in almost every region and often provide lectures, slide shows, and trips geared toward field observation.
In recent years the hunting and collecting of wild reptiles have become highly regulated via the passage of protective laws and permit requirements. This is good in that attempts are being made to protect reptile species and their habitats. 
Although habitat destruction by means of land development is, by far, the largest threat to native species, hobbyists are partly to blame. People who hunt by tearing apart landscape and those who collect masses of animals for profit have given the hobby a bad reputation in 
governmental circles and contribute to the often-negative views that the general public holds for our field. The overwhelming majority of reptile enthusiasts that spend time in the field are responsible and respectful, and it is their duty to teach others proper methods of field observation. While it is important to encourage captive breeding, and an occasional "catch" is worth keeping if done so legally, our motto should be "see it, study it, leave it."
Memorable Experiences
Boas:
At the time I became serious about field observation we lived within minutes of the Whitewater Canyon in Southern California. This is an extremely diverse area in terms of reptile species and an excellent place to learn the art of "road hunting." Over time I developed a "feel" for the proper weather conditions that would bring the myriad of critters in this area out and onto the road. In time, either alone or with friends, there would rarely be a night of driving without seeing boas, 
kingsnakes, or any other of the many animal species in the canyon. On one memorable night I found a large male Rosy Boa within thirty seconds of exiting the freeway and turning up the canyon. I would ultimately find six more boas within two hours that night. The last was a two foot male with the brightest orange striping of any other boa I have ever seen from Whitewater Canyon, including captive bred snakes. This snake glowed in the head lights as I turned to enter the freeway to go home, and luckily I was able to relocate it to safer ground. On another occasion I caught a glimpse, almost on a subconscious level, of a shadow in the road as I exited the freeway a few miles from the canyon. 
I stopped, got out, approached and realized that I was about to find my first "road-killed" boa. It was extremely dull, blended in with the pavement, and was directly where any exiting car could hit it. The motionless boa had that look of death to it similar to so many other unfortunate snakes that venture out for the warmth of the pavement at night. However, this three foot female was alive and well, just lying there in the middle of the road soaking up warmth. She too was relocated to safer habitat. The Whitewater Canyon holds many memories for me: the night I found six different snake species in one pass with two in the head lights at once and a third just ten feet further; the encounters with the Fish and Game department 
(always have your license!!!); the night I almost fell down a hill with a cheap flashlight chasing an angry male Kingsnake; saving a large diamondback rattler from being needlessly killed by a local gardener; and the many roadside "herp conferences" with friends and strangers alike to compare who saw what and where. However, the best memory I carry with me from the canyon was the night I finally found that first elusive Rosy Boa on a dark, forgotten road in the middle of the desert night.
Another memorable "boa experience" came when I "flipped" my first boa. 
As opposed to night driving boas, this actually takes work. It was early morning in Pioneer Town, CA and a master snake hunter was attempting to show me viable habitat when he suddenly flipped up two adult desert boas from under adjacent rocks. Amazed, I lifted the nearest rock and found another. Three adult boas within three feet of each other. While it was a bit of an under handed pitch to me, my first rock flipped boa ranks high on my list of finds.
Mountain Kingsnakes:
Zonatas are among the most challenging snake species to find due to their secretive nature, occurrence at high elevation, and the rigorous hiking needed to reach them. It took one friend 12 years to find his first 
Zonata even though his family lives amongst prime habitat! My first experience looking for them was part of an all day field trip that took us from flipping boards near the coast of San Diego (Coastal Cal Kings, Southern Pacific Rattlesnakes), further inland to snake hunting among abandoned shacks (Gopher snakes), then high up into the mountains (Gophers, Ringnecks, Zonatas). Although I was the only 
person of the group not to find a Mountain Kingsnake that day, I was able to learn the "tricks of the trade." This would serve me well as I was able to observe four in my first true year in the field.
My first find was during a trip to the Sierra's, where along a stream under a solitary rock I found a baby Zonata. That was the moment in time I felt the first real "rush" of excitement after having turned hundreds of rocks and finally turning one and seeing the bright red bands of a Zonata. The "high five" from my mentor nearly dislocated my shoulder!
The next notable find came weeks later in a remote area of Riverside County where I was told no prior 
Zonata sightings had been recorded. Again I was in the company of people who had been conducting field observations for many years so was able to learn from their techniques. On this day we had searched for several hours and I was beginning to question whether or not Zonatas actually inhabited the area. It was getting late, the sun was setting, and we were within sight of the cars and willing to calling it a day. I lagged behind the group by about 100 feet continuing to hunt as I was frustrated by not finding a single snake. As we walked across an opening in the forest not far from the road I decided to lift a large rock that was part of a small group of boulders. The others had just passed seconds ago. As I lifted, I realized the rock was too heavy and I was too tired from a long day. I was able to lift it a few inches out of its bed, and just as I was about to ease it back I saw a blur of red. Instinctively I called out to the group "Here's One!!!" By the time they reached me I had somehow lifted the rock, slipped, scraped my abdomen and forearms rather nicely, reached into the pit left by the rock, and felt the animal in my grasp. As they arrived I held up an adult female Zonata that had not one single black crossover. In all the excitement I never considered that more than one snake and more than one species could have been in that hole. Luckily only a perfect Zonata lived there and I was able to catch her before she darted down any of several burrow leading out. Several days later, we decided to revisit the same area and stopped by the same group of rocks. 
Hoping to get some pictures, we lifted the same rock but this time without luck. She wasn't there. As we analyzed the two other rocks we determined that they were too big and too sunken to ever have a chance to see underneath. However, as I looked at the cracking pattern on one side, I realized I might be able to get a good look into some fissures. I grabbed on to one edge, and an entire wedge shaped piece of rock began to slide. I pulled it out a bit further, like pulling out a drawer, and saw a flash of RED on top of the wedge heading back into the space left by the rock I had pulled out. Reaching in knowing what I had seen, I pinned the snake gently against the floor of the wedge but felt that there was more "animal" than I had seen. I called to my partner for help telling him that I had one pinned but that it was halfway into a crevice and much bigger than I expected. His response upon looking in was that there were two, and we proceeded to pull out an adult male Zonata AND an adult female. Two Zonatas...one hand...it doesn't get any better than that! Being as this female had a few black cross-overs, we realized that in this group of rocks lives a trio of Mountain Kingsnakes in a locale where there had previously been no reported sightings. It is comforting to know that such a place is in fact being nicely populated by these wonderful little creatures.
The above accounts represent some of the more notable field experiences I have had to date. I am blessed in that I have made some wonderful friends who are extremely well versed in field observation and willing to not only teach me their techniques but also instill in me their sense of responsibility and respect for nature. I will continue 
to observe reptiles in their native habitats for years tocome and will always make it a priority to leave nature as I found it, maintain proper permits and abide by current laws, and occasionally collect for breeding purposes only. These were the lessons taught to me that I hope to pass on to you.