Rattlesnake Dance!

 

HOLY @$%*&! 

I freeze like a marble statue.  Are my eyes deceiving me? 

Less than 20 feet to my front are the largest rattlesnakes I’ve ever seen.  Two of them!

And they’re upright!  Each rears facing the other.  They sway from side to side like a snake charmer’s cobras.  The vipers hold their heads nearly 18 inches above the rock ledge I share with them. 

And just beyond lies my daypack.  It holds my food, water, and all my outdoor gear.

Uh-oh!

 

How did I get in this Situation?

It’s a beautiful day in the redwood forest.  The azure sky gleams in tantalizing patches through the canopy hundreds of feet above.  Sunbeams pierce the shaded woods.  They form iridescent pools on the faded orange humus of fallen redwood needles and tanoak leaves. 

It’s summer, and the air is warm even at this early hour.  My friend Kurt and I are hiking to a creek to have lunch and take some pictures.  The creek runs through a canyon to the Pacific Ocean, about 12 miles away.  This canyon is unusual.  It reminds me of the dry chaparral near the top of the Santa Cruz Mountains.  But it’s too wet to be chaparral and too dry to be redwood forest.  It’s out of place for its location.

This paradox creates a fascinating place to find wildflowers and other interesting plants.  They take advantage of the open sky above the creek and grow quickly in the humid microclimate.

Kurt and I ramble along the floor of the canyon beside the creek.  The cheery morning makes my spirit soar.  It’s exhilarating to be in the forest after a long week at the office.

We rock-hop across the flowing stream as we near our destination.  I choose this moment to test whether a half-submerged log is floating or resting on the muddy bottom.  Splash!  I quickly withdraw my leg and mutter at my stupidity.  My right boot is soaked to above the ankle.  Now I know the log is floating. 

Kurt keeps a diplomatic silence.

 

Lunch Rock

We finally reach our lunch spot.  I call it “Lunch Rock. “  It’s ideally suited.  This gigantic rock descends to a wide shelf that overhangs a swimming hole.  The stream spills over the rock from above and cascades into the large pool below.

To reach the rock, we negotiate a minor obstacle.  Small boulders topped by a fallen tree form a waist high barrier.  We climb onto rocks and swing our legs over the tree before we clamber onto the broad wide shelf.

But it’s too early to eat lunch.  So Kurt and I drop our daypacks and head downstream so I can take pictures.  After about an hour, we return up the trail to reunite with our daypacks and eat lunch.

But when I reach a point on the trail alongside the bottom of Lunch Rock, I abruptly change plans.  It’s hot and I don’t feel like climbing over the rocks and the fallen tree.  Instead I lead Kurt onto a social trail that opens onto Lunch Rock’s broad shelf.  Now Kurt and I are standing on the shelf looking up the rocky slope at our packs.  The stream is to our left, and to our right the social trail returns to the main trail. 

 

The Rattlesnake Combat Dance

This brings us back to HOLY @$%*&!

As I lumber upslope, two giant snakes rise from a small depression in front of my daypack.  The snakes loom six feet above my head, about 20 feet to my front.  Wow, they’re big!  Each is at least four feet long.  The heavy bodied snakes have black stripes that run from their eyes to the corners of their mouths.  That stops me cold.  I don’t need to see their rattles.  These are Northern Pacific Rattlesnakes (Crotalus oreganus oreganus).

I’m no stranger to rattlesnakes.  But what I see amazes me.  When I meet them in the wild, they usually coil defensively or sulk off into the brush.  They’re deliberate, not aggressive. 

These snakes are different.  They lift their heavy bodies off the ground, straining toward the sky.  They sway back and forth like heavyweight boxers in the final rounds.  With startling speed, they intertwine.  Using the back of their heads, each tries to force the other to the ground.  I’ve never seen rattlesnakes move so quickly.  It’s startling.

 

 

 

 

We’re seeing a “combat dance” between two males vying for dominance.  Kurt and I don’t understand.  We think we’re seeing a mating ritual.  But when mating, the snakes remain horizontal on the ground.  We are witnessing combat between two males.

The snakes jockey for position and suddenly they intertwine.  Each struggles to drive the other to the ground. 

I later learn that adult males engage in this ritual during the breeding season. The stronger snake will continue slamming the weaker one to the ground until it leaves the area. 

There is no doubt what I’m seeing is violent.  But it could be worse.  Non-venomous snakes frequently bite and injure as they fight for dominance.  But rattlesnakes are not immune to their own venom.  Biting is simply out of the question.  The combat dance is nature’s elegant solution.  They can compete without risking mortal wounds.

Rattlesnakes are ovoviparous. The mother keeps her fertilized eggs inside her body and gives birth to living young.  Gestation is thought to be 90-110 days, with births usually occurring from August through October.

 

 

 

 

I shuffle to my left to get a better view.  Kurt and I are transfixed by the snakes. 

The contest proceeds in utter silence.  Kurt mutters, “I wish I had my camera.” 

I start to reply “Me too,” when I realize I’m holding my camera in my hands.  Feeling foolish, I begin snapping pictures.

 

 

We watch the muscular athletes bob, weave, and dodge.  Still pictures can’t do justice to the electrifying scene.  So here’s a video that shows an encounter between two Western Diamondback Rattlesnakes much like what Kurt and I are witnessing.  However, the snakes in the video seem mild mannered compared to the competition in front of us.

 

 

We watch the snakes, mesmerized, in silent reverie.  And then suddenly we have to run… 

 

Sudden Peril

 

As the contest escalates, the jousting becomes more violent.  The snakes lunge and jostle.  In their ardor, the snakes throw themselves over the lip of their precarious perch and hurtle downhill.  Straight toward us!!!

Still intertwined, the rattlers plunge down the smooth rock slope like a giant slip-n-slide.  Nothing is going the check their headlong rush.  They are sailing toward us and accelerating.

There is a moment of panic I will relive in my dreams.  We spend a fraction of a second to confirm what our eyes are telling us.  Then we run!

Kurt scrambles left, further out onto the shelf.  He angles uphill, parallel to the ledge above the water.

I dive right.  I have no intention of being trapped with my back against the water, on a rock with two raging rattlesnakes.  

I can’t recall the last time I felt I should run for my life.  There was the stampede of Cape buffalo in Zambia.  And the time I found myself just feet from a bison in Yellowstone.  But both times I thought I might be dead already.  This bestowed a sense of calm detachment I used to extricate myself from the situation.

But this is different!  It’s a pell-mell scramble that seems to last an eternity.  I see the sliding snakes.  I feel my muscles straining to go fast.  Perhaps I’ve finally found a compelling reason to get back to the gym!

I scramble up the social trail just in time to witness the dueling vipers skid to a halt.  Sharp end first, they land right at the spot Kurt and I occupied just seconds before!

 

The Victor

From my new vantage point, I’m able to snap pictures of the victor.

 

 

 

 

The defeated snake slinks underneath a rock.  

I circle around to my gear, keeping a sharp lookout for a third snake.  I rendezvous with Kurt who retrieves his camera and approaches the snakes to get pictures of his own.  Filled with awe, I continue to snap pictures of the winner.

 

 

 

Whatever the critical distance is, Kurt violates it.  The annoyed snake lets out a menacing hiss that fills the canyon with malevolence.  Then it begins to rattle.  Its vibrations echo off the canyon walls like the sound of hail on a corrugated roof.

Rattlesnakes are a natural wonder.  When it rattles, a snake can shake its tail 90 times per second (90 Hz).  This is faster than most hummingbirds’ wing beats.  By comparison, human athletes manage a paltry 8 muscle contractions per second (8 Hz).

The rattle is our warning.  Kurt and I have overstayed our welcome.  It’s time to go.

 

Hidden Drama

Dramas like this combat dance must happen all the time.  Eternal, immortal, these scenes repeat themselves throughout the inner passes of the woods.  Few of us are lucky enough to witness them.  But if you invest time in nature, she will reward you.

I was struck by the high stakes of the contest I witnessed.  I was hiking for recreation.  The snakes were competing for immortality.

 

What Have You Seen?

I’m certain Kurt and I will recount this episode for years to come.  We’ll remember the combat with awe and our narrow escape with humor.

Have you witnessed anything like a rattlesnake combat dance?  Leave a comment below and share your experience.

 

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