I am just now hearing of this theory, any snake stories?

glumshoe:

Again, so many. I’ll keep it to just two.

We had two mulch piles in the back yard when I was growing up. They stayed warmer than the ground for the whole year, and come September, they’d become Snaketropolis. My mother says that her memories of me as a toddler are filled with images of a wild-haired child with scabby knees and multiple garter snakes clenched in each fist, like some kind of juvenile Minoan goddess.

The shed in back was home to a rat snake. We rarely saw it up close, but sometimes I’d sneak into the shed and glimpse its shiny black coils retreating from a patch of sunlight. It would leave long, perfect shed skins draped over tools or piles of wood, and I would collect these with utter reverence.