The blackness at the base of the tree might have been shadows in the roots, but then it began to move. 

Sunlight through the leaves left sparkles on scales as the mass of blackness quivered and the long black snake began to knead itself, moving in and around, not to settle, but seemingly with purpose. I saw the head, knew there was no danger, and I watched it roll into itself.

Again and again. But then a second head emerged, slipping up though the darkness and through the coils, arching, twisting and reaching toward the other.

Oh my God, there are TWO snakes! I jumped back and saw what I had missed. Transfixed by the slippery mass at the base of the tree, I had not seen the second snake slowly inching its way into the pile with at least four feet of snake still stretching up the tree.

The second snake continued to work its way into and through the coils of the first, a mesmerizing dance as foot after foot of snake disappeared from the tree and the coiling pile continued to grow and take shape.

The dance continued and I realized the obvious and watched their mating in awe.

In and out, over and through, both moving the pile of twisted slickness and pushing themselves this way and that, the two worked insistently to wrap themselves together and stretch each other out. The mass lengthened and the knot of snakes slowly came untied as the wrestling and writhing struggle continued.

One’s mouth clamped down on the other’s neck, apparently with devotion, not malice. And I swear the snake made eye contact with me; it knew I was watching them mate. If a snake could wink, that one would have. Or maybe it did.

On it went until the two became one, head next to head and tails intertwined. And the rolling and twisting and struggle continued, and the two pushed and stretched against each other with common purpose. I know not what exactly was being linked to and/or into what, but the dance was riveting.

The coils began to pulse and bulge and the mass started shimmy and throb. A long series of convulsions along the length and the tails twitched together, then relaxed.

The gently rolling continued, and I left them to themselves.

I have never before seen anything like that. And that is why I come into the woods.