Bowhunting for pythons
Wildlife managers declare all-out war on snakes big enough to swallow Volkswagens
You're sitting in your tree stand, arrow knocked and bow ready for action when suddenly you spot your quarry.
It's a Burmese python, and it's a big one. As the 14-foot serpent comes slithering along the ground beneath you, you slowly turn toward it and pull back the bowstring in one smooth motion.
Then, when you reach full draw, you settle your 20-yard pin on the snake's…Where the heck do you settle your pin on a python?
"If it's archery season, they [hunters] may take a python with a bow and arrow and any other instrument that's legal to possess on the area during that season," FWC Chairman Rodney Barreto said. "If it's a muzzleloader season, they may use that type of gun."
Bowhunters being invited to shoot snakes; how did it come to this? Blame it mainly on a lot of python owners in Miami and environs whose 4-foot-long, 10-pound conversation pieces eventually grew into 150-pound problems.
Beginning in the early 1990s tens of thousands of imported Burmese pythons were purchased from south Florida pet stores, many of them were eventually released into the back 40 when they became a hassle to feed. At least some escaped from pet stores devastated by hurricanes.
Though the snakes mainly are to be found in the vast "river of grass" of the Everglades National Park, they've been discovered as far north as Big Cypress Swamp National Preserve, and they've still got lots of room to go even farther upcountry.
The pythons constitute the latest ecological disaster in a state where even the most seemingly innocuous invaders often become pests of the first magnitude. Burmese pythons post a major threat to every native species of reptile, amphibian, bird and mammal in Florida.
In July, an 8 ½-foot pet Burmese python escaped from its terrarium and strangled a 2-year-old central Florida girl in her crib.
According to the Humane Society, 11 deaths have been attributed to pythons or other constrictors in the U.S. since 1980, and the victims weren't all Florida residents. Pet pythons killed an Indiana man and an Ohio man in 2006; in 2008 a pet reticulated python asphyxiated its owner, a Virginia Beach, Va., woman.
This summer, U.S. Rep. Kendrick Meek and Sen. Bill Nelson, both of Florida, sponsored legislation that would ban the importation and sale of pythons and other constrictors. The companion bills are expected to pass and have been assigned to the appropriate House and Senate committees for consideration.
In the interim, Florida recently imposed a requirement that owners of "reptiles of concern" pay a $100 annual permit fee.
The genie is already out of the bottle, however. Florida wildlife managers aren't so worried about the pythons that might be imported as the snakes that are already crawling around the lower part of the Sunshine State and consuming as many native birds and animals as they can catch.
According to Linda Friar, the public information officer for the Everglades National Park, it's believed the python population ranges between 5,000 and 140,000 snakes.
The huge disparity in the estimate is due to the lack of empirical evidence. It's not as if the reptiles are sprawled out in the open, waiting to be counted. There's a lot of sawgrass to hide under in the 1,400,000-acre Everglades National Park, and airplane or helicopters spotters can't accurately tally the numbers.
Even if they have reached their maximum length of about 18 feet, a Burmese python is virtually invisible as it creeps silently through miles of wetlands. For the most part, the pythons are undetectable until they cross an earthen dike or road, sun themselves in the winter, or forage in canals or freshwater bays when a park ranger happens by.
Besides, they don't want to be seen. Their coloration, brown with a chain-link pattern of tan and black, blends with any background.
Burmese pythons are ambushers that lie in wait; stored horror waiting to spring. They catch, crush and swallow living things, and autopsies of pythons have revealed that they live on an eclectic diet of fish, frogs, birds, rabbits, Keys deer, raccoons, rats, bobcats, possums, domestic cats, squirrels and other snakes.
So far, though pythons are found throughout the range of the Florida panther on either side of Alligator Alley (Everglades Parkway) and in the 750,000-acre Big Cypress National Preserve, no panther remains have been found in the snakes.
The seasons and the python's size dictate feeding requirements. The metabolism of pythons slows during the Everglades' short-lived winter and runs full-bore during much of the rest of the year. The snakes prefer live prey, though pets are sometimes trained to eat frozen rats or other dead animals or chicks.
Typically, a python grabs its prey with its mouth, which is lined with sharply pointed, backward-facing grasping teeth. Then the snake's body moves up and coils around the unfortunate victim. Strong muscles contract and squeeze the life out of the prey. Once it's dead or unconscious, the serpent begins the process of swallowing it whole.
It's easier for a person to catch and subdue a python by grasping its tail and raising the body up as much as possible. Something about the mechanics of its physique makes a python virtually immobilized when the rear part of its body is lifted from the ground.
Then it's a matter of another person grasping the snake behind its head, or chopping its head off.
People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals sent a letter to the FWC this summer promoting decapitation or "pithing," which involves inserting a stiff wire into the snake's head and scrambling its brain, as the two preferred methods of euthanasia.
A newborn python of 16 to 20 inches, hatched from an average clutch of 65 eggs or so, is a target of larger birds, fish and animals. Prey becomes predator as the snake quickly matures, however, and the size of its meals grows exponentially.
Grown pythons will even eat alligators and crocodiles, but not always successfully, as the occasional photos showing snakes that had burst open after swallowing one of the big reptiles make the Internet rounds. No doubt alligators and crocodiles also eat mature Burmese pythons, though not nearly as frequently as wildlife managers in south Florida would like.
There's been talk of putting a bounty on Burmese pythons, and perhaps that's the only way the general public will develop an interest in their extermination. A while back there was talk of developing a market for python meat, but when tests revealed high levels of mercury stored in the flesh of the snakes, that plan was dropped.
Thirteen hunters were issued permits to take out the pythons and, by early September, had reduced the python population by about two-dozen. The hunters' efforts were concentrated on what the FWC considers to be the current northernmost range of the pythons in south Florida.
"Current" is the operative word, because the adaptable Burmese pythons could spread as far north as the Gulf Coast states, and along the eastern seaboard into the river deltas of the Carolinas. Muggy summers and mild winters, and a bountiful forage base that includes beavers and nutria, make the Deep South a potential paradise for these creepy invaders.
Recent telemetry studies with sterilized pythons have recorded pythons travelling as far as 45 miles from their release point within a few weeks. Pythons have been found as far north as central Florida, though wildlife biologists suspect they were released pets rather than immigrants from the south.
Burmese pythons can go for weeks or even months without food. In south Florida, once they reach their maximum size of about 18 feet long, they have no natural enemies except armed humans.
Florida is hoping that hunters will do their part to kill any and all Burmese pythons that they encounter. A bowhunter who is presented with the opportunity to take out one of the giant reptiles from the safety of a tree stand is advised to shoot it in the head.
Such opportunities aren't without an element of danger for the hunter, however, especially if he's a bad shot. Besides being able swimmers, pythons can climb trees very well, too.
