I grew up near Boston. We had the eastern timber rattlers. My dad taught us to always give them opportunity to leave. I never saw one but our neighbor regularly chased off his resident one when he shot target practice into the rocks where it hung out.
Years later, at the hike of my brother's wedding party, we went up Mt Holyoke near Amherst. Passed a large picnic table shaped rock. Heard the rattle. We stopped. It crossed the path between me and my brother, the groom, rattling away. We just held still and watched him slide 2' from each of us. Black but that head gave it away. (Never mind the rattle.) 4' long and well fed.
We just thanked that creator that it went between us, not some of the more excitable members of our party.