The Ambassador Python
It’s hard to remember that most folks don’t love animals the way we do.
Did you know that July 16th is World Snake Day? I didn’t! At least, not until a friend sent me a Discord message wishing me a happy one.
I’ll be honest, folks: normally, I don’t care a whit about these ‘World [insert the subject of your choice here] Day’-type holidays. It feels like they have no history, no visibility. What does World Snake Day even mean? Who celebrates it, and why?
My first instinct on hearing about it, in fact, was to plug it into Google and see if it was a real thing. (Sorry, Coop.) As it turns out, it is, complete with educational events held by snake conservation groups, a hashtag on Twitter, and mentions on the Internet as far back as at least 2016, per my very cursory search. I was still inclined to dismiss it, but when I read the Days of the Year summary of the World Snake Day, it got me thinking about snake ambassadorship, and how us folks in the animal welfare field often confuse ignorance for malicious intent.
If you’ve worked in animal care, in no matter what capacity, I bet you know exactly what I mean by the latter part of that last sentence. This assumption of bad faith on the part of ignorant animal owners permeates our field. It’s there in the rolled eyes and derisive huffs beyond the closed doors in veterinary clinics: “Of course her puppy has parvo, she never bothered to get it any vaccines!” It’s there at animal shelters, when the surrendering owner has walked away: “Of course his husky ate all his furniture, he works 16 hours a day!” It’s there in reptile forums and Facebook groups: “Of course their leopard gecko died, they were keeping it on sand!”
Certain aspects of animal husbandry seem so obvious to us — the enthusiasts, the hobbyists, the trained vet staff, the rescuers —only because we are steeped in the field on a daily basis. We don’t even need a formal degree; our interactions with coworkers, professionals, and other enthusiasts is our education. Because we love the animals in our lives, we soak up the knowledge of the other people who love them too.
It becomes easy to forget that the person who grew up with one family dog that lived on a chain in the yard may never have even heard of parvovirus, much less know how vital it is to vaccinate against it. It’s easy to forget that not everyone understands that an intelligent, athletic dog like a husky needs to have frequent physical and mental exercise to be healthy. It’s easy to forget that some people follow the advice they were given at that big box pet store, where they’re buying the first reptile they’ve ever owned, because it never occurs to them that that advice could be wrong.
We take it personally. We assume malice. After all, everyone knows these things that seem so obvious to us, so anyone who acts against our common-sense understanding of animal care must be doing it maliciously. They must want their animal to suffer and die. I’ve certainly been guilty of this, railing furiously at an owner behind the scenes because I’ve just encountered yet another animal suffering from poor care or an easily preventable malady. Some days, my heart can’t stand the callous, often unintentional cruelty.
It’s easy to forget that, because we love animals, we know a lot more about them than the average person. It’s hard to remember that a pet owner who’s ignorant about some “obvious” facet of their animal’s welfare simply does not have the same depth of education as we do. In a field rife with misery and frustration, it can be very hard to meet the ignorant owner or layperson in the middle, with open hands and a desire to help them learn.
When you work with snakes, or other historically maligned groups of animals, it can sometimes be extra-hard to maintain any spirit of good faith. Not only are people ignorant about snakes, but many folks are actively scared of them. A person can easily go their entire life without seeing a snake anywhere but on the other side of a screen, and unfamiliarity breeds fear. If someone has never seen a live snake, if all they know about them are sensational stories about eating or envenomating people, I can understand their reluctance to ever want to be near one in person.
That’s where snake ambassadorship comes in.
If you read my story about my first snake, Yigg, you may recall that I referred to him fondly as my ambassador. Yigg was an incredible ambassador: he moved with slow deliberation. He was strikingly colored and patterned. He was gentle and curious. He attracted attention.
He was the kind of snake who could charm people who were a little bit afraid of snakes.
Whenever I could, I would take him out to places where I could show him off. Pet-friendly expos, local reptile shows, any educational event I could involve myself in, I would bring Yigg. He went with me on walks to the local park and around the neighborhood. He visited several of my (animal friendly) jobs, alternating his time being carried around and cooed over and resting in his hide to decompress. With him, I saw and opportunity to let curious people meet a snake that wouldn’t scare them; Yigg — with his little puppy dog mouth, his gently bumping snout, and his languorous movements — was the perfect snake for the job.
Even online, he was an ambassador! As I posted a regular stream of pics and videos to my Facebook and Instagram, I exposed friends and family members to the idea of snake-as-companion, of snake-as-family. People would routinely tell me that before Yigg, they had no idea that snakes could be cute, or have personalities, or otherwise just be likable. Family members who were afraid of reptiles nevertheless wanted me to keep posting about him. They were invested in his simple little life.
The best part about sharing this snake I loved so much with the world was that it naturally opened a wider dialogue about snakes with my audience. It didn’t matter if I was telling a wide-eyed little girl about how snakes like Yigg originally come from Africa or a curious housewife about the wide world of selective breeding and ball python morphs; I would take any chance I could to educate someone else about snakes. Having the opportunity to broaden someone else’s perspective — to maybe even change their mind about snakes — was a privilege I still cherish. Some of my most precious memories of Yigg are of the way strangers smiled when they held my snake, overcoming their uncertainty or fear.
I may have lost Yigg, but I don’t think I’ll ever lose that desire to share my love of reptiles with the world.
So, it’s World Snake Day. As the Days of the Year website says:
“World Snake Day is an important day when it comes to increasing awareness about the different species of snake all around the world.”
They may not be ambassadors the way Yigg was (yet), but my other snakes are still fun and fascinating creatures with their own distinct personalities and natural histories. Allow me to briefly introduce them:
Yofi is a three-year-old Taiwan Beauty rat snake (Elaphe taeniura friesei), a subspecies of a widespread family of semi-arboreal rat snakes in southeast Asia. Even though she’s already more than five feet long, she still has growing to do. Lately she’s become increasingly tolerant of handling, which means I might be able to do educational events with her in the future!
Her likes include climbing, watching me when I’m working near her enclosure in case I have food, and, uh, watering cans?
Yennefer is a one year old Thai Bamboo rat snake (Oreocryptophis porphyraceus coxi), another southeast Asian species with a wide distribution and many subspecies. She’s a nervous, watchful little snake, but most snakes are when they’re still young and vulnerable to predation. I’m hopeful that she’ll grow out of it, the way Yofi did.
Her likes include vibing under her substrate, watching everything around her very closely, and pretending to be a scary venomous snake.
Yukikaze, a ball python (Python regius), is new to the family. At only three months old, she is still a baby and we are still very much getting to know each other. Though they hail originally from south and central Africa, ball pythons have been bred commercially for so long that they now come in myriad colors and patterns, called morphs. Yuki’s morph is ‘super pastel asphalt (100% het g-stripe)’.
Currently, her likes include hiding, eating, and hiding more.
I could bang on and on about my snakes, but this article’s already long enough. If you read this far, thank you! If you have any questions about my girls, or keeping snakes, or just about snakes in general, leave a response and let me know.
Oh, and happy World Snake Day!
