We have a family of Indigo snakes living at The Little Hacienda.  There are at least three of them, distinguishable by their various lengths.  They, or their ancestors, have been here for many years.  When I built the outside shower some twenty-three years ago, overlooking the lush back hammock, (a must for a beach house,) an Indigo was the first patron.  I made the last connections for the water, tested it, and went to put away the tools.  When I returned, there was a four-foot Indigo enjoying the wet decking of the shower.  Welcome.

There have been long periods when we didn’t see any, years, in fact. We have seen numerous red rat snakes, a coral snake, and once, a pygmy rattler made his way through the back door and into the house.  I caught him and escorted him out.  Returning from the beach once across A1A, fifteen years ago, I encountered a gigantic Eastern Diamondback rattler on the path.  I went around another way to fetch Barbara to see.  He was thick as my arm, and a good six feet long.  We watched as he made his way into the palmettos, and we haven’t seen anything like that since. Plenty of dune mice over there, so I wouldn’t be surprised to see another any time.

I love snakes.  They are among the most beautiful of creatures, quite graceful and dignified, if you will.  When it’s hot and dry they come out of the bush seeking water.  We leave bowls and pans of water for them. The Indigos are especially elegant and almost friendly.  The Eastern Indigo, of the family Colubridae, is native to the eastern U.S., and the longest snake species in the country.  They have a uniform blue-black back, and often a reddish-orange tint to the throat.  In bright light they appear blackish-purple.  I sit on the back deck most evenings, to write a little while enjoying a vodka martini, and for the last several months they have frequently appeared.  Last evening I saw the large male, a five-footer, three different times.  He came quite close once, raised his head to acknowledge me, then moved to the water tray to drink. We are most fortunate.

One of my all-time favorite poems is “Snake,” by D.H. Lawrence.  Look it up.  It’s about a snake coming to a water trough to drink, and the narrator’s pettiness in growing a rock to scare it away.  D.H. Lawrence lived in Taos near the end of his life, and grew quite attached to the motion and beauty of the natural life there.  Same with Robison Jeffers, in Big Sur, and his observations of hawks and life there.  It’s all around us, even in the cities, and it is instructional. Enough preaching.  Get out there.