— by Rebecca Swett

Early summer in Massachusetts is a lovely time of year. The days are not too hot yet, and the sun is setting later each evening. I was asked to play the harp outside by a lake for a family gathering. It was a beautiful late afternoon, the temperature was perfect and there wasn’t a breeze in the air. It was everything a harpist could hope for when playing outdoors.

The sun was just starting to go down and the location on the lake was picturesque.  Twenty minutes into my performance I noticed several birds hovering above my head. I thought they must be enjoying the music, and I continued to play.

Ten minutes later the hostess approached me and asked if I was comfortable with nature’s critters. I assumed she was talking about the birds but asked her why she was asking me. The hostess went on to point to a short wall next to me where I spotted the tail end of a two-foot snake as it disappeared into the wall. Apparently my music brought the snake out of a nearby garden, and it had slithered right in front of me without my noticing. It’s fortunate that I didn’t see the snake hanging out in front of me, because if I had, the harp and I might have ended up in the lake.

As the snake made itself scarce, I composed myself and continued to play. But the rest of my performance, I kept a constant eye on the wall, hoping the snake did not reappear.

I can now add “snake charmer” to my resume.