snakes!

We’re in a 23- by 23-foot cabin at the top of a cliff so steep no road can attempt it, so for forty-eight hours almost nonstop, about six of us have hauled furniture and books, our beloved books, up a tortuous switchback path, sweating like horses, yelling “Out of the way, snakes!” and stomping down the dirt path, because we know the acreage is snake-infested.

In the Fullness of Time Emily W. Upham 2010