It lay on top of the high wall between the coffee garden and Pak Mangku’s yard, its gleaming coils brilliant against the grey concrete. We stood watching it and its unblinking golden eye watched us back. There was a brief discussion about how this snake would drop by every couple of weeks and help itself to a small chicken, which Pak Mangku didn’t seem to mind.
But there was no telltale bulge in this snake, it just lay folded rather awkwardly on the wall. It took me a while to realize that it was badly tangled in the string netting we’d erected in a vain attempt to keep Pak Mangku’s chickens out of our yard and the deadly jaws of my killer dachshund. The python had tried to push its way through the small mesh and was doubled back on itself, trapped and unable to move.
“We will have to cut it free,” I said.
Nyoman sighed. He knew that ‘we’ in this context meant ‘Nyoman’. Over the years he’s been with me he’s become much braver about snakes. In the beginning he killed them indiscriminately, but gradually learned to pick up the smaller ones with two sticks and guide them into bottles or release them over the cliff. This one, however, was over two meters long. He fetched the ladder and a knife, and soon we were standing on the grass around the trapped snake and several metres of netting, strategizing the release. None of the Balinese wanted to touch it even after I immobilized the back half, so we gently laid a bamboo across its neck to hold it down while Wayan Manis ran for the sharp scissors. Nyoman gingerly cut away the netting without damaging the skin, looking as though he wished he was somewhere else.
It was a beautiful animal, gold and yellow and black. Its scales glowed in the sunlight as its strong tail groped around my arm, making Wayan squeal. Nyoman clipped the last strand and the lithe, muscular body stretched to its full length in relief. Suddenly realizing its freedom, it glided through the grass to the wire fence, pushed its way though and dropped down the wall on the other side. We ran to the fence in time to see its tail disappear into the jungle.
“I don’t like snakes, but that was a pretty one,” admitted Wayan.
A well-fed reticulated Bali python can grow to 4 meters or more, (although these days, most of them only ever reach about half that size before they are killed). In Malaysia, pythons have been known to attain a length of almost 10 meters and to consume calves and even the occasional unfortunate passerby. But Bali’s pythons dine largely on small birds and rodents.
Readers should be aware that snakes are interested in just two things, food and sex. We humans can offer them neither. They would much rather not have anything to do with us at all and, if given the opportunity, will re0move themselves promptly from our immediate environment. People are only bitten when they don’t see a snake and inadvertently brush against one or step on it.
Where wildlife is concerned, Bali is a benign place. There are no deadly spiders here. Centipedes and scorpions give nasty bites and stings but aren’t usually life-threatening. There are no lions or bears, and all of the remaining tigers and crocodiles were hunted out 80 years ago. Even the Balinese snakes are extraordinarily passive; the cobras have to be really riled before they strike. “Cobras are so misunderstood,” mourns Ron Lilley, a Sanur-based reptile enthusiast. He once called around the hospitals to get a sense of how many snake-related deaths there are among expats in Bali each year, and no one he talked to could recall any. It is probably safe to say that death by snakebite is very rare. Ron adds that most local villagers who are bitten don’t go to the hospital in any case.
According to Ron, snakes evolved from burrowing lizards. The python is a ‘primitive’ snake, as it still retains the lizard’s pelvic girdle and vestigial back legs (spurs) which can be seen on an X-ray. Cobras and green pit vipers, two snakes often seen in Bali, are more advanced in terms of development, having no pelvic girdle or spurs. The pit viper also has highly developed heat sensors that allow it to strike at and follow its prey in complete darkness, as well as being able to follow scent trails with its tongue like other snakes.
Snakes are more usually seen during the wet season, but this year’s unseasonable rains seem to be bringing them out as late as May or June.
“The most common snakes in Bali are gecko-eating house snakes,” says Ron. “They look like vines -- long, thin and green –- and have a very elongated head which can be greenish-blue to yellowish-brown.” This non-venomous snake is not to be confused with the green pit viper, a much smaller snake with a distinctive triangular head and a red tail which may deliver a nasty bite if cornered. (But rarely deadly; my dachshund survived.) Ron says the Bronzeback snake is also very common, though I’ve never seen one. Also non-venomous, it likes to perch in branches over the ponds at night looking for nice things to eat. If disturbed, it may rear up and inflate its neck and rattle its tail in harmless warning.
Snakes are creatures of habit. They will use a secure hiding place or water and food source for years if undisturbed. If you have a garden and would rather it was snakeless, remove piles of wood, bricks, tiles and other dry shelters. Half-buried tires, such as are often used in children’s playgrounds, are also a favourite retreat for sleepy serpents.
Ron offered the interesting fact that a compost heap gently steaming away at 29 – 30 C is the perfect incubator for snake eggs. So if you’re going to rummage there, wear gardening gloves. “You’re more likely to be bitten by a centipede than a snake,” Ron points out.
The most common snake in the world, including Bali, is one that you will probably never see. The 4 cm long flowerpot snake is as thin as a pencil lead, shiny black and lives in the soil or under flowerpots. This blind little snake eats ants and termites and is completely harmless.
The much maligned sea snake does indeed pack a venomous punch. It needs to, because it only has one chance to nail its prey before it swims away. Ron has never heard of anyone here being bitten by one in Bali. They may follow divers out of curiosity but, like other snakes in Bali, only bite when threatened.
Snakes play an important part in Bali’s eco-system, and their disappearance can cause imbalances. There used to be a lot more snakes on the island. Rice farmers have killed so many that rats, on which the snakes used to feed, have become a serious rice-field pest in many areas. Ron remembers a snake-meat restaurant off the Bypass that used to feature local snakes; now it has to import snakes from Java. And he doesn’t see many baby cobras any more. I know, I know, you feel badly about that…
Ron often gets calls from people who have seen a snake in their garden, but says that callers need to be more observant. “They can’t tell me what size or colour it was, which makes it impossible to identify. If you see a snake, don’t try to touch it but keep an eye on it, and do get a photograph if you can.” You can call Ron for advice or snake removal at 0361 287111 or H/P 0813 384 96700.
