When I held a friend’s snake and spent ten minutes talking to him about how to care for it, I felt certain that I was ready to own one. However, I made a massive misjudgement of how specialised these animals are and ended up putting myself, and the snake, in danger. I believe that a little learning is a dangerous thing.
I went over to visit my sister at her new boyfriend, Neil’s, house, and was excited to see that he kept snakes. He had three, in varying sizes, all in separate tanks. He got one snake out to show me and I was fascinated. He told me it was a corn snake. It was so beautiful; it was all different shades of orange and red. When Neil draped the snake around my neck I was impressed by the sheer muscle of it. It felt so warm, like it was giving me a giant hug. I instantly forgot the stigma attached to snakes. This one didn’t feel dangerous, or sly, or even mysterious. I thought he was just wonderful.
When Neil realised how much I was enjoying playing with the snake, he casually suggested that I get one for myself. He assured me that it snakes were easy to keep and proceeded to give me a quick lecture on his routines with them. He explained that they lived on a diet of mice, which he bought frozen. My sister laughed and commented that there was no way I could deal with feeding mice to a snake. I disagreed, and told her so.
On my way home, all I could think about was getting my own pet snake. Neil had told me how to look after them, so I was pretty confident I had learned enough. Neil had said that baby snakes were more difficult to care for, so I wanted an adult one. When I got home, I went up to my bedroom and switched on my laptop. I put in an internet search for reptile classified adverts in my area, and found several, so set to work trawling through for someone who wanted to rehome their snake. I was in luck; someone in the next town on from me had a royal python that he could no longer keep. I rang the number immediately and arranged to go and visit the snake the following morning.
I found the house without too much trouble, and knocked on the door. A man with long dark hair answered the door and invited me in. He explained that he had had the python for two years, but without telling his landlord. Now his landlord had found out and had asked him to get rid of it, threatening to ask him to leave the house if he didn’t. The man seemed genuinely sad to be parting with the snake. I peered into the tank; the python didn’t look too big, though it was curled up, making it difficult to know for certain. The man said that he had only just fed it and so couldn’t get it out for me to hold. However, he assured me that it was friendly and liked being handled. He didn’t ask my any questions about my experience with snakes and even told me he would be prepared to drop the price for a quick sale.
However, I was soon to start having problems. When I tried to feed him the following week as instructed, he wouldn’t eat. He simply ignored the food and lay in the corner of the tank, staring at me. A week later I tried to feed him again but he ignored the food once again. I was worried that he was ill, though he seemed bright enough, as snakes go. He seemed to like watching me as I moved around my bedroom, so I made an effort to be with him as much as possible to keep him company. It seemed a bit odd that he paid so much attention to me; I didn’t remember Neil’s snakes ever doing that.
The next day, I rang the vet and explained about the snake’s lack of appetite. She said that there could be a number of reasons for him not wanting to eat, and asked if there was anything else about his behaviour that seemed odd. I told her that he seemed okay, though I hadn’t had him for long enough to know what was normal. I affectionately, mentioned about his habit of watching me as I moved around my bedroom. At this point the vet told me that she was very worried. She went on to explain that snake’s sometimes exhibit this behaviour when they are deciding whether or not they could eat a person, and that he was probably ignoring his food as he was starving himself ready for a bigger meal. The vet also added that this might be the reason that the last owner wanted to get rid of him.
I was devastated. I had been thinking that the snake was staring at me so much because he loved me; I didn’t think for a second that he was viewing me as prey. I felt like such a fool for rushing out and getting a pet without learning about the species properly. I had asked Neil for some information and, having spent ten minutes finding out about snakes, I was convinced that I knew enough to own one. In the end I gave the snake to a reptile expert; I simply didn’t have the knowledge or experience to care for such an exotic pet. The expert said that most of his reptile collection had formed as a result of people buying them and then realising how specialist they were and handing them over. I believe that learning just a little about them turned out to be more dangerous than learning nothing at all. After all, if I hadn’t learned anything, the chances are that I wouldn’t have bought the snake. This experience has changed my life; I have learned to be less naïve and think matters through before making decisions.
