Lessons in Handling

Once in a great while, we are fortunate enough to survive an epiphany about the keeping and handling of venomous reptiles. This may come as the proverbial slap on the back of the head by a more experienced keeper or for those of us who are very lucky, the gleanings from a conversation (or forum exchange - flame or otherwise) between other keepers. Sadly, for some of us it comes with a frantic trip to the local hospital and personal loss or damage of some kind. My greatest learning experience was a life changing, eye-opening occurrence back in the days before Internet, about 1980.

At the time, I was the greatest thing to happen to snake keeping in the Blue Ridge community surrounding the Virginia Military Institute. I was answering calls from all over the Virginia mountain range to remove snakes and even lizards from old farm houses and even some newer apartments. Due in part to this notoriety, I was allowed to keep snakes of any variety that I chose in a lab on the top floor of our science building. I took advantage of this with a 5-foot long boa, a couple of Eastern Kingsnakes, Black Rat Snakes, and a beautiful Southern Copperhead that I had caught in Virginia Beach that summer. I studied in MY lab and spent countless hours (when I should have been studying) watching the gorgeous copper and beige and pink colors gleam in the sunlight filtering in from those clear mountain afternoons.

Now, somewhere in those less-than-studious autumn afternoons, I got the idea that the next step for me was to "milk" my extremely docile 3-foot long copperhead. I was 21, had been catching venomous snakes for four years and had been keeping non-venomous snakes off and on for seventeen years. I had read every book that I could get my hands on and my personal reference library did (and still does) put most public libraries to shame. It seemed logical at the time. I had no-one who shared my interest, so when the day came that I made up my mind, I was alone in the lab with a snake who had secrets that I hadn't even begun to suspect.

I pinned her down and picked her up right behind the head just as I read about. My fingers were right behind her jaws, which she obligingly opened wide. Next came the BIG SURPRISE. Her left fang came arcing back out of her mouth SIDEWAYS seeking my oh-so-vulnerable fingers. I checked and her right fang was just where you would normally expect it to be. That is how I came to understand independent control of fangs (which later helped with automobile suspension comprehension). I was very lucky in that the fang never did find skin before I hastily put her back into her cage. She rewarded me for learning quickly by presenting me with eleven beautiful penny-bright babies the following month.

I never have tried to "milk" a snake since then and with all the "wisdom" that I have gained over the years, cannot imagine why the amateur collector/keeper/breeder should ever try. I learned then and have not forgotten that it is when we think we have learned everything there is to know that we place ourselves in the most vulnerable position to learn something the hard way. ~KB

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