At nearly three metres long, one might think it'd be hard to miss a snake of this size. But the white-bellied rat snakes that prowl the reserves glide with velvet ease through the forest floor, giving no more hint of their presence than much tinier skinks.
The snakes usually lie low, with their heads about half a foot from the ground, eyes alert and tongues aflick. But this individual foraging near a narrow stream was in a pose that recalls the threat mood of deadly elaprids. With its neck and upper body nearly two feet in the air, the serpent swayed stiffly in an attempt to hoodwink indiscriminate passer-bys and infuse a healthy dose of ophidiophobia into overly curious ducks.
Sensing perhaps the futility of fear, the snake relaxed, wound its coils in a bid to retrace its steps and slithered into shadows that frown on careless feet. For a brief moment, it invaded a sunbeam, its upper body burning russet and rippling with the motions of sinuous muscles. But the warm brown flank soon vanished behind the ferns and in its place grew a thickening line of black that swept a path without trace and tore a route of rare tails.
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