Facing fears

One of the most interesting experiences we've had is the reptile handling course we attended in November. You expect that a course like this would start off with small, non-venomous species, but no! You get an introduction, talking about safety and how to pick up a snake using a grab stick, the instructor shows you how to do it... and then it is your turn. We were told that if guests see a snake in their room, it is always a gigantic black mamba and that you need to be prepared for any kind of snake, until you yourself have seen and id:d it. This is why you need goggles (for spitting cobra) and to bring two different kinds of sticks (hooked for puffadders and the grabbing one for other species).

The first snake turned out to be the one I fear the most while walking in the bush, a puffadder. This stocky and slow moving (although fast striking) snake species lies still, waiting for its prey. It is responsible for the most snakebites in southern Africa; the outcome is not always fatal, but loosing a limb is quite common... and I'm supposed to pick this thing up, using only a 1 m hooked stick!? To my surprise it doesn't readily bite though (if you're not stepping on it) and usually warn you of its presence by hissing and tries to slither away a short distance, rather than striking at you or the stick. The next snake had been put in a pillow case on a sofa and once located, it took some wriggling to get it out. When correctly identified as a snouted cobra it was ok to take the goggles off and with my vision no longer blurred by plastic, the snake was easily put in a box. The next time I found a snake almost immediately in a large; the same species only larger and more aggressive! I was having trouble getting a good grip since I was afraid that pressing too hard would hurt it. Ignoring that, I managed to catch it, put it down on the floor (the grab stick firmly one third of its body length down from the head), grab the tail with my free hand and lift the rather heavy serpent into a container. Needless to say I was very proud of myself. Sean, who I was doing the course with, had a bit of bad luck since it unfortunately managed to escape into a corner of the room. We had to move the furniture a few times and all the movement and poking with the stick made the cobra irritated, spreading its hood, hissing and striking at him. Luckily reptiles tire fast and eventually the snake was safely locked away and Sean was happily shaking and sweating.

After this ordeal we went out into the parking lot and this time the goggles stayed on. The spitting cobra we had to catch was not in the mood of being caught and we had to run fast to keep up with it. We had to run along side it and grab it while moving; the snake didn't like that one bit! We did it twice each just to make sure we could and we both got spit at several times and had cobra venom all over. This small snake had no problem spitting us right in the face from ground level 2 m away. This snake can't be a reptile... they're supposed to tire easily! This tiny, non-venomous herald snake proved just how effective attitude is in deterring enemies. Grabbing it with your hands doesn't seem like a good idea, though it can't possibly harm you.

During the lunch break we agreed to swop so that Sean would take the first round with each snake, to make it fair. But when a 3 m python was released and the instructor turned to us asking “Who's turn?”, Sean went pale and pointed in my direction; what a gentleman! This one was probably the most aggressive of all the snakes we encountered this day and all I was equipped with was a wet towel, held with a grab stick. In theory I was going up to the snake and put the towel on the ground in front of it and once it moved onto the towel, fold the rest of the wet fabric over the head and grab it just behind the jaw bone with both hands and then get help lifting the animal, which by the way weigh almost as much as I do. Sounds easy enough, but this guy was fast and in a bad mood, it chased me around in circles a couple of times, striking at me. Sean was yet again shaking, this time with laughter, and so got his revenge. At the time I didn't see anything remotely amusing about being chased for 15 minutes (they are supposed to get tired!) by a beast big enough to eat me!

After the python nothing could scare me anymore. Chasing and jumping onto a monitor lizard was a walk in the park. This was also true for getting my favourite snake (the highly venomous boomslang) out of a tree with a grab stick, even though I was standing in a pit with three puffadders... But I knew that the worst was yet to come. I had no illusions of escaping this course without getting close to the most deadly of the African snakes, black mamba. Just watching it being placed in a tree made me feel weak and I was grateful that Sean had manned up and took the first round. Catching a venomous snake in a tree, you grab it with the grab stick and gently disentangle it from the branches, one at the time. In between you grab the tail with your free hand, before freeing it from the next branch. It felt so wrong holding on to a black mamba's tail, just half a meter away from its fatal end... But I now appreciate just how addictive adrenaline kicks can become. When only one more step remained before the mamba could be lifted down, the instructor took over. This is a fast moving snake with a bite that is 100% deadly if not immediately treated... so I appreciated it.

Last was an assessment where you get a call from a “client” and make sure to get the necessary information and bring the equipment you may need. I took the two sticks, goggles, a torch, a round container and a first aid kit. The snake was in a shed full of stuff and the client was being annoying (all part of the game), wanting to get into the shed to help. Once I found a puffadder in a cooler bag I took the goggles off, caught it with the hooked stick and put it in the round container. Now I realized my mistake; the client had seen the snake further in and I guessed that there was one more, hiding in the dark. I got her out again and eventually found a small python that I caught with my hands and then claimed I could use the first aid bag could as a container. This was accepted with some smirks, but they of course handed me a real one and I was done!

I am no longer as afraid of puffadders as before, since I have seen up close how they behave and the same goes for mambas which don't seem as aggressive as I had imagined. Pythons though, that's a different story!

/A

ELEPHANT, part II

The road was empty. I kept driving slowly forward and about 30 meters down the road I could see an elephant's bottom disappearing into the high grass to our right. Damn it, they are moving away from us. Graciously accepting defeat, I switched off the engine and turned to my client “I'm afraid we missed them. They have moved off into the high grass.” To our right we could hear the rumbling sound elephants make and the sound of branches breaking; the sound of elephants moving away.
“Aww, what a pity. It would have been great being really close to wild elephants.”
“Well, you-”
I was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a tree getting pushed over, this time on or left side. The sound of a Silver cluster-leaf hitting the ground just to our left made me nervous. That was way too close for comfort. I cursed the high grass – I still couldn't see a damn thing!
“That sounded close.” said my client.
Yeah, tell me about it.
“I can't see anything “ she said, moving over to the left hand side of the game viewer, camera raised, ready to capture whatever was moving through the high grass.
At this point I was just about to start the engine and get away from there – there were elephants on both sides of the road but as far as I could tell the road ahead of us was clear. Time to leave!
Before I could turn the ignition key, though, the large bull elephant we had seen earlier stepped out of the grass and almost head-butted the game viewer. Clearly surprised to find us there he took half a step backwards and showed us the erected posture (a classic threat behaviour where he is telling his antagonists Hey, look how big I am. Do you really want to mess with me?). He really didn't have to tell us that he was big, that much we could see for ourselves. He slowly moved closer to the game viewer looking down at us from more than 4,5 meters – he was a lot taller than the car. We could hear his rumbling stomach and his scent filled our nostrils.
Afraid to make any sudden moves or noises I realised that any sudden movement or sound at this point could provoke him to charge the car. There was no doubt in my mind that if he did, he would turn the Landrover (that felt more than a VW Golf at that point) into scrap and us into bloody pulp. This was not good there was no way I could get us out of there – if I had turned the ignition key the sound of the revving engine would definitely have provoked him to charge. My client didn't move a muscle but she still held out her camera and it still looked like she was about to take a picture of him. I recalled her earlier taking pictures using a flash so if she took another picture now he would likely have killed us both.
Behind closed teeth I whispered as loudly as I dared “Don't. Make. A sound. Sit still”
No response from my guest. I wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not.
The elephant took another step towards us and he was now less than a meter from the game viewer. To be able to look inside the game viewer he lowered his head and looked underneath the roof of the car, starring right at my client. My client slowly lowered her camera and tried to remain calm. They were now so close to each other that if she would have extended her arm she could have touched him. But at the same time he could have extended his trunk and pulled her from the car. He starred at her with his ears extended to the sides – truly impressive since the combined width of his large ears and broad head was almost as wide as the game viewer!
I felt the rush of adrenaline in my body and for a split second I was convinced that he would charge. I'm not proud of it but I felt slightly comforted by the fact that my guest was the one closest to him and if he charged us she would be his first target; giving me a chance to escape.
And then, suddenly, he appeared to have lost interest in us: he slowly lifted his head again, turned and moved behind my car and slowly walked off down the road. We both sat there for a while in complete silence; we probably both felt that this encounter was a little too close for comfort.

I later commended my guest for keeping calm and quiet during our elephant encounter but she only looked at me, smiled and said “There was not much else I could have done. I figured that letting out a scream wouldn't have helped the situation much.”

/ J