One of the strangest experiences I've ever had happened in Lake County back in the early  1980s.  I was managing a natural foods restaurant called the Magic Inn, housed in an ancient cabin on the property of a popular resort in Northern California. That summer I was having trouble with furry vagabonds scurrying about the kitchen. The rustic cabin had lots of cracks in its' outside walls, allowing easy access for mice, and the inside walls, paneled with unevenly milled pine boards full of knot holes, provided perfect nesting opportunies.

I set a few traps baiting them with bits of cheese and peanut butter, and the thought occurred to me that I might also release one of the local snake species into a knot hole inside for enhanced extirpation. I figured my slithery assistant would explore all the nooks and crannies for a few days, eat as many nesting rodents as he could, then slip out of the building when the meals ran out.

A few days later I was hiking up in the surrounding hills when I came upon a gorgeous four foot black and white banded King snake crossing a dusty mountain fire road. Picking him up to more closely inspect his glossy length, I thought he might be the perfect solution to my rodent woes. I started hiking back down the mountain with my new friend draped around my neck.

I immediately began to have serious misgivings, however, about the deed I was initiating. Pausing to consider the possible outcomes of my all too clever endeavor, I decided transplanting this wonderful creature from his peaceful, grassy hillside was just not the great idea I’d thought it might be. Reversing direction, I placed him back down in the exact spot I found him and returned home grateful for the interspecial encounter.

Three nights later, reading inside near some shelves that held large glass jars of rice, beans, polenta, and other dry ingredients,  I happened to glance up at the shelving.  A movement caught my eye, and I was astonished to see fifteen inches of California King Snake disappearing into the very knot hole I had envisioned releasing one into! Although  snakes were common on the property, I'd never seen one actually enter the building before, nor ever again after that remarkable evening. I'm sure others have a better explanation than I have for this strange incident involving my favorite creature, the snake.

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The Snake in September by Stanley Kunitz

All summer I heard them rustling in the shrubbery,
outracing me from tier to tier in my garden,
a whisper among the viburnums,
a signal flashed from the hedgerow,
a shadow pulsing in the barberry thicket.

Now that the nights are chill
and the annuals spent,
I should have thought them gone,
in a torpor of blood
slipped to the nether world before the sickle frost.

Not so. In the deceptive balm
of noon, as if defiant of the curse
that spoiled another garden,
these two appear on show through a narrow slit
in the dense green brocade of a
north-country spruce,
dangling head-down, entwined
in a brazen love-knot.

I put out my hand and stroke
the fine, dry grit of their skins.
After all,
we are partners in this land,
co-signers of a covenant.
At my touch the wild braid of creation
trembles.

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