This was one of my best Stupid Human Tricks. A little background is needed, however.
We raised two boa constrictors, Zith and Zola, from foot-long babies to adulthood. Now, for those of you who aren’t familiar with snake psychology, they basically don’t have any – their little pea brains are too small to hold much but instinct. They can be conditioned (getting used to being held, getting used to being fed in a certain location, etc.), but certainly you can’t expect them to act in any way different from what their DNA says is how a snake should act. And basically, a snake does two things: Lie around and do nothing 99.9% of the time, and the other 1% of the time, display astonishing muscle tone and speed in striking at and eating any tasty rodents that happen by. Anything else is purely accidental – or the stupid human’s fault.
So after eight years of raising these snakes, I was very used to their behavior. They lived in an aquarium, it was dinnertime, I fed them in the bathtub. I’d pick up the snake with the snake hook (basically a golf club minus the head, with a six-inch U shape at the end) and place the snake in the tub, then take the pre-frozen ratsicle, thaw it in hot water, dip it in chicken broth to make it extra-tasty, and using a long pair of tongs, dangle the ratsicle by the tail in front of the snake so that, hopefully, the snake would grab the rat headfirst. If a snake grabs the food wrong, it’s not smart enough to figure out, “Hey, I should let go and try again from the other end because this thing is a dead, half-frozen lump and won’t go anywhere.” No, their little snakey pea-brains are busy saying, “Dinner! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mustn’t let go no matter what!” They do NOT like to let go.
So I picked up Zith with the hook, transferred him to the bathtub, and dropped the ratsicle in the pan of hot water to thaw. But Zith, being basically an arboreal creature, decided that he did NOT want to let go of the snake hook, so wrapped himself around most of it several times. I was afraid he might decide to crawl out of the tub using the hook as a handy pathway, so as I dangled the ratsicle in front of him with one hand, with the other hand I reached for the snake hook.
Now I know how many teeth are in a boa constrictor’s mouth. I’d only seen two before, fairly longish fangy-type ones (this is a non-venemous snake, I hasten to add, but even non-venemous snake have teeth) – but when that ten pounds of pure muscle launched that rapidly widening mouth at my hand and grabbed on, I immediately developed a new respect for the Grand Design of Nature. There must have been 500 little teeth in that mouth. And every one of them sunk in two fingers on my left hand.
I recall hearing some loud shrieking and realizing that it was me sounding like the air raids were upon us but not really having a lot of control over the vocal assembly, and all the while I was trying with ZERO success to pry this snake’s mouth off my hand that he’s hanging onto for dear life, and my husband and son have joined me in this little tiny bathroom, all of us dancing around trying to figure out SOME way to get this stupid snake off me. The pressure of those jaws was truly incredible, and to say it hurt like a sonofab**** only scratches the surface. After what seemed an eternity but was probably less than a minute, however, Zith got tired of being dangled in midair and decided to let go. At which time my son shoved a rat at him, while I tried to figure out what to do with this swollen and bleeding hand.
Suggestion: If you ever get bit by a snake after working hours, call the emergency vet clinic. When they stopped laughing at me, they directed me to the emergency room for x-rays since apparently a tooth or three might have broken off in my hand. Not to mention that my fingers were swollen to the size of large sausages, which did not bode well with a ring on one of them.
So I became probably the only snakebite victim at Holy Cross Hospital in Silver Spring, MD in recent memory. Where, after they stopped laughing at me, cut the ring off, x-rayed me per the vet’s instructions (no boa teeth found, but I bet that’s the first time a vet ever ordered an x-ray in that hospital, either). Got put on antibiotics. Got directed to see my own physician the next day for follow-up. Had to call my office the next day and explain to my two bosses that I was going to be out all morning getting my snakebite taken care of. (When I left that job a few months later, one boss gave me a copy of the Survival Guide with directions to turn to page 52, which of course was the page of instructions for treatment of snakebite. Haha.) Made my doctor’s day.
Next time you hear about a person eaten by their own snake, remember: It was the human’s fault!!
Zith, the biting snake, is now happily residing at a snake breeding farm and enjoying a life of reptilian nookie. Zola, the non-biting snake, is now the prize possession of my other boss and spends most evenings as a Lap Snake. And my middle finger on my left hand still has a nice semi-circular pattern of tiny puncture scars. I stick to feeding my cat and dogs these days.
