This post is contributed by Barnaby Porter from his archives. Read his previous post here.
Yesterday, I had the opportunity to witness a very odd scene. I was sitting on a newly built stone wall in my yard, munching on a baloney sandwich and plotting how to spend the last afternoon of my September vacation. I guess I was thinking something about what nice weather we were having and how there would soon be new occupants moving into the stonewall for the winter. And I wondered who.
It was at that point I saw something out of the corner of my eye, a garter snake slithering through the grass on the bank behind the wall, going like crazy. Then, behind it, another snake. The second was chasing after the first, and a merry chase it was – uphill, downhill and, aha, in and out among the boulders in the stonewall.
Normally, garter snakes are quite shy and take great pains to evade my advances, but these two seemed altogether oblivious to my snooping into their affair, which was indeed what it appeared to be. The larger of the two was by all indications the female. As she darted this way and that, the smaller male followed precisely in her path, his tongue flicking in excitement. Whenever Gladys (that’s what I named her) outdistanced Harry (that’s what I named him), she coyly stopped just long enough for him to catch up. Then off they tore, zigzagging back and forth over the same ground, never wandering more than 20 or 30 feet before turning back toward the wall. All the time, they steadfastly ignored my pursuing shadow and even my dog’s nose.
It wasn’t long before George showed up on the scene. He must have sensed all the excitement and darted up out of the wall just as Gladys and Harry whizzed past his lair for the umpteenth time. So now there were three snakes seemingly gone berserk.
Gladys really had the boys going now and decided to heighten their frenzy by playing hide and seek with them along the entire course of the stonewall, disappearing into it at one point and then reappearing a few moments later at a hole six feet farther on. I noticed, though, that if they ever lagged too far behind, she slowed just enough to keep their optimism alive. She even retraced her “steps” a couple of times.
After a good half-hour of this flirtation, which had led them between my feet more than once, Gladys finally feigned to poop out – she couldn’t seem to wriggle another inch. Harry and George caught up, natch, and my, my, my what a tangled affair they had! I couldn’t tell who was who, nor even which tail belong to which face, but they seemed to have no trouble at all as they systematically tied themselves into a Turk’s head knot. They knew exactly what they were doing… and did it.
Now, I’m not particularly crazy about snakes, but I do appreciate their place in the scheme of things and actually find them rather fascinating at times, like the other day on my lunch break. But they always seem a bit mysterious to me. Why, for instance, did this trio choose to cavort about so late in the season? According to my field guide, autumn mating is not all that usual, and nowhere could I find even a mention, let alone an account, of just how they go about it as I have described here. Since I am now something of an expert, let me suggest that it would behoove the aspiring naturalist to slap himself together a baloney sandwich and go sit on a stone wall somewhere in the woods.
Artist and author Barnaby Porter has had a varied career in marine research, aquaculture, and woodworking, among others. Most recently he partnered with his wife Susan as co-owners of the Maine Coast Book Shop & Cafe in downtown Damariscotta. In October 2021, Barnaby completed his tenure on Coastal Rivers’ Board of Trustees after six years of service.
