Raptor Friday: The White Tiger of the shores

On broad soaring wings, the mighty White-bellied Sea Eagle patrols the coastline, plunging every now and then into the ocean for fish or sea snakes. Its aerobatic displays can make test pilots envious. If you see one, stop and watch.

I remember that day more than four years ago. We were heading to the beach from college after a long, tiring day. As we walked along the narrow road chatting, I caught sight of a huge white bird, black underwing, soar just above us. As I looked up in awe, another followed suit bearing excess baggage in its talons -- a snake! I had just seen a pair of White-Bellied Sea Eagles returning after successfully hunting a sea snake!

For the first time in months, disregarding the slip disc I had suffered, I ran to locate the eagle’s perch. My friends ran after me to make sure I didn't collapse from the exertion. The pair of raptors flew into a walled compound bordering the beach. Scanning about for a good five minutes, I found both birds on an open perch. One, presumably the female, was feeding on the snake. The other, probably the male, was slightly smaller in size as is the case with most raptors.


After this encounter I saw them several times during my two-year college sojourn. They nested on a tall casuarina tree on the beach, very close to the water. It was an enormous construction of more than 3 feet diameter and was approximately 40 feet above the ground near the top of the tree. Although I saw the birds build and maintain the nest, I never saw them exhibit any behavior that accounted for raising chicks such as fetching food or lingering near the nest.

The eagle with a fish

This December, more than two years since I left college, I paid the site a visit with my camera. And this time I did see some activity near the nest. While walking down the same narrow road towards the beach, I told my friend Amith that I hoped to see something interesting. Almost immediately he exclaimed, “Snake!” I turned to see a huge rat snake slither across our path. I considered this a sign of luck. With a wide grin I continued walking. On reaching the beach, we found sandpipers foraging close to the water. While I was trying to get close to them Amith said, “Isn’t that the bird you are looking for?” 


I looked up and saw the sea eagle flying in with a fish in its talons. As we watched, it made for the clump of trees that housed the nest.

The eagle on its nest

On reaching the trees we saw the nest and its owner perched next to it. I am not sure what happened to the fish - did it store it to be eaten later or pass it onto a chick in the nest? Presently, its partner flew in from behind the trees with something in its talons. I shot a picture and reviewed it on the LCD screen -- a small, half-eaten snake. 


This bird then headed out to sea and returned within a couple of minutes, landing close to the nest. Then the first bird took off. At any given time one bird remained near the nest. They took off and landed so many times that I lost track of the take-offs and landings. Although all this activity near the nest made me curious, I had no way way of confirming occupancy.

The eagle carrying the thin body of the half eaten snake

White-bellied sea eagles are ashy above with a white head, neck and underparts. The scientific name Haliaeetus leucogaster roughly translates to 'sea eagle with white stomach' (hali = salt, aeetus refers to eagle, leuco = white and gaster refers to stomach). The underside of the wings are white-bordered with broad black covering the primaries and the outer and inner secondaries. The secondaries are broad and appear bulged against the line of the wing. The wedge-shaped tail has a stiff black band across it. While sailing, the wings almost always maintain a wide 'V' shape.

'V' shaped wings while sailing

Salim Ali, in The Book of Indian Birds, states that if undisturbed, White-bellied Sea Eagles occupy the same locality or nest for years together. Though scores of visitors to the beach don't seem to bother the pair for now, I am concerned for the future as there are not many lofty trees left along that stretch of beach. I hope they remain undisturbed for years to come and successfully raise future generations.


I remained there, observing the Sea Eagles until darkness crept in. I bade them goodbye and I guess they heard me, for one of them waved back.

Waving goodbye

Text and photos: Arun
Read more posts in The Green Ogre's Raptor Friday series

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Heads and Tails: The Snake and the Lizard

Pankil Desai recounts a most amazing and suspenseful encounter between a Green Vine Snake and a Calotes lizard


It was a regular sunny day and I was in my hostel room at the National Institute of Technology Karnataka, Surathkal. At around 11:30, I got a call from an unknown number informing me of a snake spotted nearby. It was not new for me to get such a call. I had volunteered with the Gujarat Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (GSPCA) earlier and many people knew that I rescue snakes from human-reptile conflict zones. Since the snake was in the open, I carried my camera hoping to capture some nice portraits.


I was delighted to see it was a Common Vine Snake (Ahaetulla nasuta) -- it was the first time I was seeing an adult up close. Going closer I saw that it was holding a Garden Lizard (Calotes versicolor) by the neck. 

Trying to capture the scenario from all possible angles, I tried to get as close as possible to the snake without disturbing it. Under no circumstances did I want it to abandon its prey. I dispensed with my kit lens and put on a 28-135 mm lens to get better close-up shots without the risk of scaring away the snake.

I wondered why the snake had not yet started swallowing the lizard though its prey had stopped moving for the last ten minutes. Curious, I carefully moved some twigs for a better look. I was amazed at what I saw. The snake had a firm grip round the lizard’s neck; at the same time the lizard was holding on to the Vine Snake’s tail. I had never before seen anything like that!

The snake desperately tried to free its tail; at the same time it tried not to loosen its grip on the lizard. I think the lizard was very much dead by this time but its jaw muscles had contracted in its bite and remained so even in death. The snake had even started to bleed from the bite wound inflicted by the lizard. The struggle to release its tail from the lizard’s mouth went on for over one and a half hours. 

Finally, after a great struggle, the snake freed its tail and pulled the kill into the nearby bushes to enjoy a well-earned and much-deserved meal. 

Pankil Desai is an engineer with Linde engineering in Vadodara, Gujarat. After his BE, he completed his M Tech from National Institute of Technology, Karnataka in Surathkal, near Mangalore. During a year's break between degrees he volunteered for the Gujarat Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (GSPCA). His work included feeding injured birds and animals, administering basic healthcare, as well as rescuing reptiles from human conflict zones and releasing them back into the wild. During his stint there, he honed his affection for snakes and developed an interest in photographing them.  

Text and photos: Pankil Desai 
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Would they kill the keelback?

Did that curious crowd know, or care, that the snake we were trying to see off to safety was a harmless albeit aggressive Checkered Keelback?

Here's how to tell a Checkered Keelback from its venomous relatives: Round eyes, checkered scale pattern, keeled scales and the oblique stripes behind and beneath the eye

I didn't really plan to make a habit of writing about snakes and the human folly of mistaken identity, but it appears that the subject seeks me out. Remember the young cobra I had written about some time ago? And the harmless rat snake that could easily have been mistaken for a venomous snake by the ignorant and the fearful?

Heading back from Bandipur last week after a tour organised by the Kumble Foundation (more on that in upcoming posts), we had not yet reached Mysore when a peculiar spectacle beside the highway compelled us to pull over. Two bikes were parked on the verge. The rider of one appeared to be staring hard at something his companion was holding. One chap perched on the pillion of the first bike cradled a live chicken in a cloth bag, its thirsty mouth ajar as it clucked comically in innocent contemplation (perhaps, of its gastronomic destiny). The first rider held in his hands what looked like a snake. By happy accident or design, he gripped it securely behind the head, and the snake did not appear to resist. In fact, it seemed so limp that Arun and I feared it was dead. 

We stepped out of the taxicab to look. Arun, adept at identification, pointed out immediately that the snake was a Checkered Keelback (Xenochrophis piscator), also known as the Asiatic Water Snake. It was olive green overall with checkered markings, which were not as pronounced as in some other individuals that I have seen. True enough, there was the diagnostic oblique black stripe/ band below the round eyes, and the scales on the snake's back were rough. It was almost four feet long and amply muscular.

Questioning the riders, we learned that they had found it on the road in a stunned condition and picked it up to prevent it from being run over. Good move. But now, the folks had no clear idea what it was and what to do with it. I guess they must have assumed the snake was dead. I took it from him, still gripping it securely at the back of the neck.

Keelbacks can bite, and how. As a child I'd seen a cousin savaged as he foolhardily attempted to handle one swimming in a tank. The snake champed hard on his big toe, repeatedly reaffirming its grip even as he tried without joy to release it. He was left with an unsightly sore and ample insult as onlookers jeered his inopportune bravado. Naturalist Rahul Alvares has written about one snake that left a tooth behind in his bite wound!


Memory had not eluded me even as Arun gingerly reminded me of the keelback's propensity for biting. I held the snake gently but firmly behind its thick muscular neck, which felt tough but offered little resistance to my grip. Some scales had been chafed near the right side of the head but there were no flesh wounds, no haemorrhage and no obvious tissue damage. That was a relief. But the snake was in trauma and needed to recuperate safely before it made off. Initially, I suspected it was gravid but given my inexperience, I assume it was only food in its stomach that I was feeling under its skin. Arun pointed out that a fully fed snake would usually disgorge its meal to lighten up before taking flight.

Placing the snake on the ground, I hoped it would shoot off into the bushes, but it stayed put flicking its tongue. Arun and I, as well as some of our fellow-travellers, exchanged worried glances. If the snake didn't flee, it would become an easy target for humans zealous for a show of heroism. A crowd of passing motorists had collected by now and clearly, they anticipated action. I caught wind of conversation -- one expert pronounced that it was a cobra I was holding. In despair, I appealed to the crowd to disperse and informed them that it was only a water snake. I bent down and picked up the snake again, half-hoping that it would turn and bite, as that would offer assurance of its ability to fend for itself. But the keelback was still sluggish.

Diinesh, Arati, Radha and others who were travelling with us suggested that we leave the snake in a quieter place away from the highway. Idiotic as it may appear, anyone picking up a 4-feet-long snake by the tail looks like a superhero to the gawking bystander and I found it hard to shake off the crowd trailing me. Happily, the snake in my hands was now starting to resist, whipping at me with its tail and veering its head around. When I placed it at the foot of a hedge beside some farmland, the snake began to crawl forward but still not at satisfactory speed. Were we within sight of a water body, we could have released the snake into it without fearing for its fate.


Much of the crowd had now dispersed but a few persistent men followed me to investigate this most questionable rescue operation, among them the swaggering stud whose better judgement informed him that the snake was a cobra. "Nagara haavu," he pronounced in Kannada to those about him; they nodded agreement. I pleaded with them to leave the snake alone but they lingered. I was also concerned about holding up the rest of our group so we left the snake, which was now slithering away from the road with what I hoped was renewed determination. 


A pang of guilt gnawed at me for the rest of the journey. Sure, we had averted a roadkill, but would the snake evade that crowd before its idle curiosity turned to ignorant fear, and then possibly to murderous rage? 


I'd rather not know...


Text by Beej
Photos by a very focused Arun (who happily decapitated me in his zeal to photograph the snake)


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Close Encounters of the Slithering Kind

These are not just encounters, but close encounters. In these situations I have either touched or been too close for comfort with certain members of the suborder Serpentes

I'd never imagined that such a day would dawn. In 2008, I visited the Agumbe Rainforest Research Station (ARRS) with friends PD, Zak and Subbu. I must mention here that I was so scared of snakes that I was almost on the verge of being ophidiophobic.

We were roaming the campus when station manager Prashant’s 4-year-old daughter found a baby Common Vine Snake (Ahaetulla nasuta) and caught it to show us. All four of us were stunned at the girl's courage. PD took it from the girl's hands and handled it easily as he was used to working with snakes during his stint as a volunteer with the Gujarat Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (GSPCA). Then Subbu mustered the courage to hold it. Next was Zak.

All this while, I was chewing my fingernails. I too wanted to handle it but my inner voice hissed, "Don't get any bright ideas dude, that's a bloody snake!" At the same time I could hear PD saying, "Dude, it’s just a baby snake." Finally PD's voice won over my inner voice and I did it! The mortal fear dissolved away as I watched the little green fella slithering around my arm, once in a while flicking his tongue to 'taste' the air. This was a big milestone for me. I had held a live snake!

The first touch

The Indian Rock Python (Python molurus) is one of two kinds found in India. The International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) lists it as NT (Near Threatened). Threatened or not, these snakes can be found every once in a while at the National Institute of Technology Karnataka (NITK) campus in Surathkal. I had seen them there twice in a span of 18 months.

I first saw a python when some security guys were showing it off to bystanders by catching hold of its tail and throwing it from one side of the road to the other. My requests to them to handle the snake properly fell on deaf ears. Luckily, a student helped the guards bag it and take it away to be released some 7 km away. This python was young and measured approximately 3.5 to 4 feet.

A year later, I encountered a python again and this time I had an experienced ally, PD, to guide me. Late one night, PD popped into my room and said, “Arun! Python, Ist block!” and ran back to his room to pick up his snake hook.

It took me a second to decipher what he had just said. We ran to the spot followed by Zak and Subbu wondering whether it could be a Russell’s Viper (Daboia russelii) since that short, thick venomous snake might appear to be a python to those who cannot tell them apart. There was no doubt about the snake's identity when we reached the spot. There, among the weeds, lay an enormous snake. Even in the darkness lit by a dim street-light, there was no mistaking its size and markings. This was an Indian Rock Python.

We wanted to move the snake from there as it was close to the hostel. If workers saw it, they might kill it. PD asked me to help for its sheer size and weight. I was so out of my wits that I looked around for help, only to see that Zak and Subbu had moved away. PD had already jumped on the snake and held its head. He was shouting at me to hold its lower body and tail as otherwise it would start wrapping around him. After a millisecond’s hesitation I too dived into the weeds and caught the snake.

The snake was extremely strong and there was ample confusion in the dim light. Finally, we subdued it and got a grip. That first touch of the python I shall never forget. The dorsal part was hard but with smooth scales. The ventral scales were rough. The body was hard and muscular. I could feel the muscles moving inside its body. It felt as if a leather sheath was filled with moving cricket balls. This was one snake that you didn’t have to worry about squeezing too much when handling. It was strong and hard to resist all of that! (Just kidding, you do need to handle it with extreme care.)

Once the snake was in our hands, everybody wanted to touch it while we both were already worrying about where to release it.

The fear that had enveloped me until now evaporated now that we caught the snake. After ensuring that the python was safe in our arms, everybody came forward to touch it and take snaps. We later measured, bagged and released it inside a forested corner of the campus, away from the hostel blocks. The python was 7 feet in length (adults grow to around 13 feet).

With this incident I actually overcame my fear of snakes. But this doesn’t mean I’ll go pick up a snake at the first instance I find one!


The third close encounter, now that I think of it, was one of the most hair-raising ones. Except that neither the snake nor I panicked. This species -- the Russell's Viper -- is responsible for the majority of human snakebite deaths in India

Russell's Viper (Photo of a captive snake taken at Guindy Snake Park, Chennai)

One morning, after camping in a forest in the Hosur Forest Division the previous night, I picked up my binocs and began birding alone. I was so engrossed and happy without the extra weight of my camera that I did not pay attention to the forest floor. As I observed a Crested Serpent Eagle calling and circling directly above me, I heard a faint rustle of leaves right next to where I was standing. I turned around to see a thick snake with brown or chestnut coloration, with prominent dark brown oval shaped markings. “Russell’s Viper?” I thought to myself calmly as I observed it uncoiling and beginning to move away, just a foot or so away from my feet. It took me a couple of seconds to realize how lucky I was not to have stepped on the snake or frightened it into biting. I still wonder how I stayed calm that day without jumping at the sight of a snake so close to me.

As the snake moved away into the dry bushes and settled down, I circumvented the bushes and came up in front of it. From there I watched the snake for a good 15 minutes before moving away. Unfortunately, I did not carry my camera that day. But the sight of the viper uncoiling will always be etched in my memory.


Had the “dangerous/deadly” snake, as most people claim vipers to be, chosen to strike instead of moving away, I would mostly not have been here to narrate this encounter as medical help was very far away from the spot. The viper moved away and let me live even when I intruded its personal space. Had it intruded our personal spaces, what would we have done?

Scale pattern of a Russell's Viper 

Text: Arun
Photographs of the Vine snake and Rock python: Pankil Desai
Photographs of Russell's Viper: Arun

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Would you trust a snake on a tree?

The snake tried every trick to climb the coconut tree. Failing, it slithered down and risked death. How could I stop it from being killed, I wondered. But the snake had plans of its own...

Remember how Kaa of Walt Disney's Jungle Book hissed seductively from a tree: "Trusssst in meee, jussst in meee"? And remember how some time ago I wrote of a little cobra that I had seen to safety, away from the pipsqueak securitas that wanted to bludgeon it? 


Ethnocide, I say. That's what it is -- to kill a snake for what it is. That tender little serpent, then still porcelain-skinned and round-eyed as a baby, put up glorious defiance before it was dismissed for safe release. It took every iota of patience, restraint and wit to ensure that no one died that day, at least in my presence. After that day I decided not to inform the security of the presence of snakes unless it was absolutely necessary. Worse than afford anyone (primarily, the snake) the trauma of an encounter, I thought I'd keep watch until it slithered away without maligning its reputation.


One recent morning I was fumbling about in a literary air-pocket when our maid, breathless as a budgerigar in a wind tunnel, informed me of the presence of a snake. Remembering full well what had transpired the last time, I looked out of our second-floor balcony and saw a sizeable snake, nearly six feet long, entwined round the trunk of a coconut tree. Half of its body was wrapped around the trunk as it reached out in short, desperate lunges for a pinch-hold on the woody bracts above its head. 


Perhaps my maid, who was by now rather faint, expected me to run downstairs and inform the security guards. Instead, I thanked her and reached for my camera. And there, from the vantage of the balcony, I watched the snake, keeping watch over it for I was anxious that it would be discovered. After a few unsuccessful attempts to scale the crown of the tree, the snake returned to the ground and hid in a stack of steel pipes. I breathed again and sat back to watch the action. 

Around the snake-in-hiding, life went on. People came and went. First, a car full of middle-aged gents pulled up and parked a few feet from the pipes. They stepped out arguing amicably but loudly over a real estate technicality. The snake ducked as soon as the car appeared but when the gents lingered, talking, it gathered courage and poked its head out curiously. Every time the conversation volume peaked, the snake snuck its head back under the pipes. Snakes cannot hear airborne sounds but it was probably sensitive to the sudden movements of the men as they talked. After they left the head reared up again. 


Presently the gardener arrived, humming to himself, and got down to weed the strip of lawn under the coconut tree. The snake, with its head raised behind his back, must have been less than 10 feet from him. I, on the other hand, nearly died of nervousness. 

My wife had taken my daughter downstairs (while coaxing lunch into her unwilling little mouth) and I couldn't inform her about the slithery presence near her since she wasn't carrying her phone. I packed off the maid and went downstairs and told them as gently as I could without raising an alarm that we had company, just a few feet away from our feet. My wife took it very well under the circumstances and so did my daughter, who was curious to catch a glimpse of the snake. After satisfying their curiosity we went back upstairs and watched over the snake. It remained there among the pipes until nightfall and I saw its head rear up every now and then. Under the cover of darkness, I suppose it slid away to safety. 


Were I romantically inclined, I'd like to have imagined that this was the same snake I had rescued earlier, now all grown up. But then again, it wasn't. I trust most snakes to do us no harm. Trust is everything. If only we could rely on trust alone.

Note that I didn't name the snake. What do you think it is?

Text and photos by Beej

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Encounter: Common Sand Boa

True to its name the Sand Boa spends most of its life under the sand or in loose earth, and its tough skin offers protection while burrowing. I'm glad we didn't run over this fine snake

The Sand Boa where we found it

Six of us were driving back to Bangalore after a trip when Sunil shouted from the back seat, "Snake! Stop the car!" 


Khusro pulled over to the side and four of us ran back to the spot. In the available light Sunil and I tried to identify the snake. At first glance the stout body gave us the impression that it was a small Russell's Viper. Peering closer, aided by the head light of an oncoming vehicle, we determined that it was a Sand Boa (Eryx conicus).


We had to prevent it from becoming another all-too-common roadkill. While I stopped vehicles speeding past us, Sunil took off his tshirt, draped it over the snake and lifted it off the road. He has been working with snakes for a while and was comfortable handling the boa. We then put the snake in front of Khusro's vehicle. Under headlights, we checked it for injuries. It seemed all right. 

When Sunil put the snake down, it exhibited an odd behaviour. Rather than try to slither away, it coiled up between his shoes. This is the Sand Boa's defense strategy - to get into a hole or crevice and coil up, keeping its head protected within its coils. When handled the snake was aggressive and ready to strike.

The snake lashes out, trying to strike

It was only my fourth touch of a snake, but this felt different. The sturdy, muscular serpent had rough, hard scales. True to its name the Sand Boa spends most of its life under the sand or in loose earth, and its tough skin offers protection while burrowing. Its scales were rougher and harder than that of the other three snakes I had handled. Boas are thick, short snakes with rough, keeled scales. Although individuals up to 90 centimetres have been measured, on an average they grow to around 60 centimetres.

At first glance, they can be confused with Russell's Vipers but the viper has a clear pattern and a triangular, arrow-like head that is broader than the neck. The Sand Boa's head is hardly distinguishable from its neck. Its body is short and thick and it has a rounded snout and a short, tapering tail. The eyes are small with vertical slits in the pupil. The snake's upperparts are grey with large, irregular brown or reddish-brown blotches, which may or may not be joined.

Note the pattern on the back and the shape of the head

The Sand Boa is often mistaken for the venomous Russell's Viper and therefore killed. Other reasons for its declining numbers are the illegal trade in animals and poaching for its skin. These snakes are caught and sold as pets and their skin is coveted for making fancy purses and wallets.  

Sand Boas are a part of the subfamily Erycinae under a family of non-venomous snakes called Boidae. So, how do they kill their prey? The snake wraps its coils around its prey after restraining it by biting and holding with its several sharp teeth. Then it constricts the captured animal until it suffocates to death.


Sand Boas are found in arid and semi-arid regions and are generally active at dusk and night. They are ovoviviparous, producing 3-16 live young. The breeding season is usually November.

Ready for release

We took a few shots of the snake before releasing it away from the busy road. I have seen and heard snakes being run over. Yes, "heard". The sound that is produced as a vehicle runs over a snake is a sickening snap. I am glad I didn't have to hear it this time.


Text and photographs: Arun

Encounter: Malabar Pit Viper

Little did we know that we were being watched by a silent and mysterious presence on a wooden beam behind us

The first time I went to Agumbe Rainforest Research Station, I remember walking for hours in the night, hoping to catch a glimpse of Malabar Pit Vipers. No luck. This time, on a trip with the other ogres, nearly two full days passed without incident.

The heat-sensing pits between the eye and nostril can be clearly seen

On the second night, Sandy and I were walking towards our tent in pouring rain, guided only by the small beam of my torch. I almost stepped on a twig that lay across my path -- a dry twig that appeared to be mottled with pale lichen growth in bluish green and brown. Except this twig was moving! 

"Stop!" I shrieked. Sandy bumped into me from behind. I guided the torch beam towards the head of the "twig". One good look at the snake's triangular head was enough to conclude that it was a viper. That, in addition to the colour pattern, pointed us in the right direction. This was a Malabar Pit Viper (Trimeresurus malabaricus)!

As I watched the fella slither past me slowly, I asked Sandy to go and fetch the others. As he ran back, I stood there in pouring rain and pitch darkness observing the snake cross the path and slowly enter a dense thicket. At times, when a twig or branch was too high, the snake lifted itself upwards like a straight stick and hooked its head on the twig. Then, it pulled itself up. This behaviour pointed to the snake's tree-dwelling lifestyle. 

By the time Sandy came back with Beej, the viper had almost dissolved into the shrub, aided by perfect camouflage. I was upset that the others had not had a good look at the snake.

The brown markings on green can be seen

Malabar Pit Vipers are nocturnal and are generally found in low bushes, trees and on rocks. During the day they are inactive and may be seen basking. They are endemic to the Western Ghats and are found between altitudes of 600 to 2134 metres. Adult snakes can grow to 55-79 centimeters. The longest ever measured was 105 centimeters. The triangular head is broader than the neck. They are typically green but appear in other morphs and a lot of variations have been recorded, including reddish-brown, yellow, etc. On its back the snake is olive or brown with black or brown spots, which may be joined to form a zigzag pattern. The sides have faint yellow spotting and the tail has yellow and black markings. The pupils have vertical slits. Malabar Pit Vipers are ovoiviviparous -- the eggs form, develop and hatch within the mother's body.

Pit vipers, which are classified under the subfamily Crotalinae in the family Viperidae, are distinguished from other vipers by the presence of a pair of heat-sensing pits located between the eye and nostril. These organs help the snake detect the body heat of warm-blooded prey even in absolute darkness.

The other ogres were disappointed at missing the snake the night before but at 4 pm the next day, our luck turned. The ogres were busy treating a Vine Snake like a supermodel. After about 20 minutes all except me and Andy left the scene. After lingering for another ten minutes, we decided to go back to the room to pack and freshen up before our return journey. Just as we left Prashanth, the station manager, called out to us. He pointed to a wooden beam just under the roof of the dining area and said, "Look who's sitting here." There lay a Malabar Pit Viper, coiled, calm and relaxed.

Relaxed and lazing

Observing from high above

It dawned on us that all the while, as we were photographing the Vine Snake, this chap was watching the drama from its high throne!

The others arrived and we took good, long looks at the snake. Malabar Pit Vipers have prehensile tails (adapted to grasp or hold) and this perhaps helps them to anchor themselves on branches or twigs while they lunge at their prey. Here, the snake had used its tail as a kind of hinge to loop it against the beam in the absence of anything else to hold on to. 

We made sure to keep our distance as vipers, though slow, are known to be capable of extremely fast strikes. The venom is mildly haemotoxic -- the toxins destroy red blood cells, disrupt clotting of blood, and causes tissue damage. In humans it results in pain and swelling. 

The prehensile tail is used as a hinge in the absence of anything to hold onto

I'm sure the snake wouldn't have wanted to waste its venom on us, and instead save it for the geckos, tree-frogs, shrews, and birds which make up a large part of its diet. Pit vipers have erectile fangs which are kept folded against the roof of the mouth. They are brought into place only when striking.

After we observed and photographed the snake, I asked Prashanth if he would move the snake since it was close to the dining area. To my surprise, he said they would leave it there and let it decide its own way out at night. Though I was a little concerned about slithering vipers that might end up over our heads or under the dining table, I was also glad that ARRS offered a haven for snakes where they had right of way.

Text: Arun

Photographs: Sahastrarashmi and Arun

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Encounter: Whining for a Vine Snake

For three days we roamed Agumbe despairing that no snake had slithered across our path. And then we had a stroke of Last Day's Luck!

We saw them all at Agumbe - frogs, lizards, insects, birds... even a mammal. But other than a close encounter that Sandy and I one night, the three other Ogres whined for the slithering kind, especially Green Vine Snakes (Ahaetulla nasuta), which are generally quite common in the Agumbe Rainforest Research Station (ARRS) campus.

After three dry days (not at all in the literal sense) we had a stroke of so-called Last Day's Luck. The four of us, except Sahastra, were exploring a far corner of the campus when we heard him call out to us. He met us half-way and exclaimed, "Vine Snake!" I don't think I have run faster in my life. I stopped only when Sahastra motioned me to, as we were close to the dry shrub in which the snake was stretched out.

The contrast a Vine snake brings to its background is impressive

The next twenty minutes were spent photographing and admiring the snake. We made sure not to agitate the snake by keeping our distance, not because we feared it but because we wanted the snake to be as comfortable and relaxed as it was. 

Although an agitated vine snake looks impressive -- it inflates and flattens its neck and throat, revealing a black-and-white checkered pattern -- we made sure we did not do that. Such pictures of the vine snake (with chessboard markings and mouth open) are most common in photographic forums, indicating that the snakes were threatened or stressed by the photographers in search of an impressive picture. I implore readers, and photographers among them, to exercise restraint while photographing these snakes.

Green Vine Snakes are slender arboreal snakes that can grow up to 1.5 metres on average. The green colouration is due to the interaction of a yellow pigment on the snake's blue skin. The longest specimen ever measured was a female, which was 1.94 metres. The snake has a long, triangular, pointed snout. The eyes are slightly forward-facing with pupils that are horizontal slits.

The pointed snout and horizontal slits of the pupils are characteristic

These snakes are found in forested habitats, including gardens, up to an elevation of 1,800 m. A diurnal predator, it generally waits and ambushes its prey, which include frogs, birds, tadpoles, lizards, small mammals and other snakes. Green Vine Snakes are rear-fanged and mildly venomous. Human victims may suffer local swelling, numbness or itching.

Coils

The forward-facing eyes, which enable binocular vision, help the snake judge depth and distance, which are necessary to sustain its arboreal lifestyle. The snake's eyes and pointed snout have also led to myths that it plucks out the eyes of its adversaries. Curiously, J C Daniel has recorded that the Vine Snake has the "habit of striking the eye of its opponent, the only object in movement in a tree snake's view" and adds that the snake's common name in Tamil means "eye-pecking snake".

The forward-facing eyes help the snake judge depth and distance

The Green Vine Snake is generally quite aggressive and does not take well to being handled. But it's not difficult to figure if the snake is feeling threatened and wants to be left alone - all you need to look for are those chessboard markings. 

Vine Snakes snakes are ovoviviparous -- they produce eggs that develop within the mother's body. The female gives birth to live young, which have no placental connection with the mother. A vine snake may have between 3-23 young at a time.

After being treated like a model for around 20 minutes, the patient snake decided to move on, deciding to end its encounter with the ogres. But I'm sure that the snake and the ogres were happy that they treated each other with respect and none were left whining.

Text and photos by Arun Menon

Lead photo by Sahastrarashmi 
Read more Agumbe Diaries

Snake in the grass and the hiss of life

In childhood, I have watched snakes clubbed to death by people I loved. Possessed by ignorance and fear, perhaps they killed without thinking, because harmless snakes had been at the receiving end of their wrath. I had no say then but I knew it was awfully wrong. Today, by saving a baby cobra from imminent doom, I attempted to right some wrongs.


It had to happen on the most hectic of Wednesdays. After being saddled with work all morning, I sat down to a late lunch at 2 pm when my daughter's nanny alerted me to a commotion downstairs. 


I heard one word, "Snake." 

I sprang up in alarm -- at the harm I feared for the serpent. In my childhood, I have watched snakes being clubbed to death by people I loved and respected but who were doubtless possessed by a mixture of ignorance and fear. Perhaps they killed without thinking, because harmless Vine Snakes and Cat Snakes had been at the receiving end of their wrath. I had no say in the goings on then, but I knew it was awfully wrong and couldn't endorse their bravado. Often, the valour of some people was measured by how many snakes they had killed, and some of them were big heroes in that sense, having killed King Cobras and Russell's Vipers.


Staring down from the balcony, I saw the housekeeping ladies, the gardener, the electrician, a security guard and sundry others trying to cajole what looked like a slender brown rope into a plastic bag. Rushing downstairs with the camera, I pleaded with the to-be-saviours of our community not to kill the snake.

On bended knee, I saw eye to eye with the feisty little serpent. It was a young common cobra (sex, to my untrained eye, indeterminate). Hood spread out, it was a little less than a foot long. It hissed and struck at the ground with a great show of malevolence. Clearly, the snake was alarmed at the attention but it stood its ground. I was impressed already and my heart warmed to the little creature. I must say I've never seen a better display of yogic breathing. The hiss came right from the pit of the animal's stomach as it reared up three-quarters of its length in the air. The black tongue, slick and forked, took in the particles of my unwashed avatar. 

It must be hard to be a snake, much harder than it is to be a rat. Rats get away with untold destruction but they hardly ever get slaughtered with the same missionary vehemence that accompanies a snake killing. Serpent-killers are felicitated as valiant heroes for pitting their defenceless human wits against these slithery peddlers of deadly poison. But rat-killers, you see, are merely getting rid of vermin. That was what I lectured my spectators as I tried to buy time for the snake. But it was becoming a case of too many cooks and the security guard's machismo nearly got him bitten. When the snake lunged at his hand the crowd shrank back, echoing an inversion of its hiss. One bite was going to cost me the chance of saving the snake's life.

Around me, people watched, perhaps wondering which way I'd choose to save them. Some muttered that releasing the snake would only bring it back. And what would I do then, one of the concerned residents asked? I thought of calling for a professional snake rescue (yes, Anees, I thought of you) but we were pressed for time, my lunch was going cold, and the tempers of the bystanders were fraying. I didn't want to compound matters by exhibiting the ineptitude of a reluctant saviour.


When the dramatis personae began to spew theories on the peril that the little fellow posed to the denizens of our apartment, I knew I was running out of time. Finally, the electrician and I tricked the little snake into entering the bag and it was despatched to be released in the swamp behind the apartment.


That's one little fellow saved. But the clearing of vacant lots for construction activity this monsoon will surely throw up plenty of snake casualties. How can one gift them the hiss of life?