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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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

Creeped out? Time to get over it! Read other snake posts on The Green Ogre

The Green Ogre Weekend Update July 10

If you've missed anything this week, the weekend edition of The Green Ogre should sort you out...


I've been away on a family vacation most of last week, soaking up the monsoon in south Goa. Rain-washed Goa is refreshing. The Western Ghats slope down in a verdant riot that skids to a stop beside the ocean, buffered only by deserted beaches of soaked, clingy sand. Butterflies, dragonflies and birds were everywhere. Despite a domestic ban on birding, I sneaked sly glances at stork-billed kingfishers, prinias, spotted munias, black drongos and even a crimson sunbird that dropped by the hotel garden to say hello as I was dunking my daughter in the pool. Gorgeous, I say. And now, having returned sufficiently vindalooed, balchaoed, rechaedoed and bibincaed, I'm pleasantly surprised to see that my fellow-Ogres have been hacking away. 

This week, we continued our Agumbe Diaries and presented more finds from our sojourn in that neck of the deep, dark woods. On Monday, Sahastra introduced us to the Bicoloured Frog, one of the most attractive creatures to hop on the forest floor. In fact, if you're not watchful, you might mistake it for the forest floor itself.
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Sex is always a subject for steamy discussion. Despite Sandy's depraved jokes about the amatory pursuits of frogs, I gleaned some wisdom from watching all sorts of creatures in love. Dragonflies interlocked in subtle arcs as they mated on twigs. Grasshoppers and bush crickets carried on unabashed, hopping away together only when we almost crushed them underfoot. Lesser Whistling Ducks wheeled in the air, piping joyously, while Rufous Woodpeckers introduced new mates to the treasure trove of ants' nests in the treetops. Love was so in the air, and so inspired were we by monsoon mating mania that that we shot like zoopornographically obsessed paparazzi.
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Having said too much already, and having pushed this blog to the brink of NSFW-ness, we thought it best to clam up on Wednesday. But then, Arun's busy frame of mud-puddling lime butterflies raised so many curious eyebrows and engendered a spate of new questions.

Dung Beetles aren't the most charismatic of insects. They are dark, round, fat and inconspicuous except when they whir absent-mindedly past your ears or crash dizzily into lamps at night. Worse, their crappy lives revolve around what other animals leave behind. But then again, rain affords you the luxury of time. Time enough to stop and stare at a cow pat for five hours, and we were amazed at how a Dung Beetle made short work of it. Andy essayed this ode to the lowly dung-muncher.
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Last Day's Luck is a phenomenon that has mystified most nature-walkers. After three days at Agumbe we had heard so much about snakes that we expected them to stalk us from every bush and tree stump. No such luck. And then, a few hours before we were to depart, a Green Vine Snake showed up and allowed us the luxury of a long, relaxed photo-session.
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Among things that crawl, snakes scare the mojo out of most people. And a leaping frog has been known to turn dull altos into shrieking sopranos. But leeches?! Those eyeless, elastic strips of skin that crawl the mulchy rainforest floor? Sandy is so terrified of leeches that he gave us a hard time on the trip, repeatedly checking under our feet and rushing off unannounced into the bathroom to strip himself down for vainglorious de-leeching attempts. He refused to cross a stream and enter the dark rainforest for fear of his wetting his shoes -- later, when we returned from the walk soaked in rain and bristling with living leeches, he looked relieved that Fate hadn't picked him for that brief adventure. Leechophobia drove Sandy to such a paroxysm of panic that he wrote a fantasy-laced opus on these bloodsucking monsters.
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That's your weekend edition of The Green Ogre. Enjoy! 

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