Snake Removal in Costa Rica

by Thomas Eimermacher

After years of providing free snake removal and relocation service in the southeastern United States, it quickly becomes obvious that ophidiophobia is a fear of downright epidemic proportions, and frequently manifests in people killing snake out of fear and ignorance. However, this phobia is not confined to North America by any means, even though the combination of a ready availability and a comparatively high standard of education with an astonishing degree of ignorance may be especially shocking here. People all over the world anthropomorphize their relationships with snakes, and often perceive them as representing a conscious evil of sorts, rather than viewing them in their actual role as interlinking organisms in the ecological equilibrium of nature.

Nevertheless, we often assume that people who live in Asian, African, Central or South American countries, where some of the most notorious species of snakes are found in relative abundance, would be more accustomed to encountering snakes in the wild, and thus be more adapt to dealing with such situations more effectively and respectfully. Unfortunately, this is not the case by any means. People on every continent fear snakes, and - with a few exceptions - selectively persecute them on the spot. One recent experience of mine demonstrates this fear and ignorance particularly well in a somewhat comical manner.

While working for the World of Snakes Serpentarium near Grecia, Costa Rica, I was asked to aid in a snake removal situation. It was March of 2003, and the onset of the rain season was not far off. The temperature was soaring in the daytime, creating a hot climate with varying levels of humidity, depending on the individual microhabitat. Reptilian activity was on the rise, as indicated by an increasing amount of encounters with wild specimens. That particular day, the Grecia Fire Department (GFD) received a call about a large snake inside a rural home on the outskirts of town. The GFD responded by dispatching a team of firefighters to resolve the situation. Before dispatching the firefighters however, the GFD contacted the WOS Serpentarium to solicit professional help in dealing with the situation. The caller had only described the snake as being “very large”, which indicated that the snake would likely turn out to be a Boa constrictor imperator, the most common species in the immediate area. Nevertheless, I decided to bring a variety of handling equipment and tools that would be sufficient in dealing with any other species that this snake might turn out to be, including large Terciopelo (Bothrops asper), which however weren't commonly found at the reported location.

When the firefighters arrived at the serpentarium, their lacking ability of dealing with the situation at hand first became evident. Rather than sending a couple of non-essential personnel by car, the GFD had dispatched a full-size fire engine, complete with a team of firefighters in fully assembled gear, including helmets and safety suits. Had I not known any better, I would have assumed that parts of the serpentarium were surely engulfed in flames. I thought to myself that this must truly be a special specimen to deserve such manpower and equipment to be dedicated to its removal.

With flashing lights and a great sense of urgency, the fire engine made its way through the suburbs of Grecia, causing me to redefine the very definition of reckless driving. Anyone who has ever driven in South or Central America can attest to the adventurous driving style and the seeming lack of the most basic sense of direction that most participants in traffic seem to suffer from. The imminent urgency of this situation (along with a presumably heavy foot of the driver) turned this drive into an experience like one that you would normally be exposed to while enjoying the rides of an amusement park. Not that I wasn't enjoying it. In fact, the wild combination of adrenaline and fun was briefly tempting me to reevaluate my current occupation. I don't believe that I was able to stop grinning throughout the entire drive to the destination. Even with the sense of urgency being evident, the Tico firefighters maintained their relaxed sense of humor. Passing a man on the side of the road, who appeared to have outgrown his pants some years back, the captain made a comment regarding the breath ability of said trousers, causing the entire crew to burst into laughter.

As we approached our destination, the roads turned into dirt roads and the area became increasingly rural. Finally, we pulled up at a small house that was directly adjacent to an agricultural field. As we drove up, the driver sounded the emergency sirens to alert the inhabitants of our arrival. Side by side with the huge fire engine, the little house looked like a small box. As the vehicle got to a standstill, the crew - fully assembled in fire-fighting gear - jumped out of the fire truck and stormed into the house, in a manner that was curiously reminiscent of Roman soldiers storming into a small hut in Monty Python's “The Life of Brian”. The firemen ran down the short hallway and came to an abrupt stop exactly at the door well to the room said to contain the reported serpent. Their heads then turned towards me, signaling a gesture that I interpreted as meaning something along the lines of “age before beauty”. Standing just outside of the room, the man of the house pointed towards the bed, indicating where he had seen the snake. The humorous mood had since left the firefighters, who were now sporting a rather serious and concerned expression in their faces.

Equipped with a hook, I approached the bed, while the firefighters were peeking in from the hallway. The room was a small bedroom, containing just a couple of pieces of furniture that a snake could hide in. There was no sign of the snake on the bed itself. As I began to crouch down to look under the bed, I noticed that the first drawer of the nightstand was slightly pulled open. Applying a cautious approach, I used the hook to pull the drawer out a bit further. Inside the drawer, coiled on a layer of clothes, was a midsized brown snake, which was immediately evident to be an adult specimen of Senticolis triaspis, the green or Neotropical ratsnake. The snake had a large lump in its body, evidence of a large meal that it had recently consumed and was now trying to digest in the warm and arguably cozy nightstand drawer. Humored by the harmless snake that had just bound a significant part of the GFD resources, I grabbed the snake by hand, nearly causing the firefighters to jump in a circle. My touching the snake appeared to give way to a great amount of build-up excitement, which was readily expressed through instant gasps. As I was bagging the notorious serpent, I could hear the firefighters, who were still confined to the hallway, telling those that were further behind about the crazy gringo grabbing the snake “con sus manos” (with his hands).

The owners of the house thanked us, as we departed with the now legendary serpent in the bag. Making our way back to the serpentarium, I wondered if the adrenaline-provoking driving style was not actually reserved for urgent situations, but rather considered a common perk for those lucky enough to be able to drive emergency vehicles per se. Meanwhile, the captain - following numerous nervous glances towards the bag that was sitting on my lap - advised me that if the snake was to be able to make its way out of the bag, said serpent would collect frequent-flyer mileage, as it would quickly be tossed out of the window before it would get a chance to dispatch any potential victims within the vehicle.

Finally, we arrived back at the serpentarium. As everyone exited the vehicle, the captain and one of his crew members proudly grabbed the handles of a large holding container - which we had brought along in case we needed to transport a large boa - hoping to create the impression of having captured a serpent of especially gigantic proportions, and thereby hopefully scoring some points with the inconsistently attractive female administrative assistant of the serpentarium. The remainder of the day proved to be rather unproductive, as much of the time was spent joking and laughing about the notorious nightstand serpent that had luckily been captured before it was able to fulfill its certain legacy - constricting and strangling all inhabitants of the house in their sleep, before overrunning the town and seeking world domination.