Living With Snakes

There are those of us who are happy with wildlife, interested and amused by their doings. I am one of those, but I know not everyone is.

When my husband and I built our house on Little Cayman (a very small island in the Caribbean), we decided to build in the woods, some distance from the beach. The beaches are incredible and the population is so low—even with the tourist influx—that a beach with more than 4 people on it feels crowded to us. The water is turquoise blue, the reefs and their inhabitants are fabulous. Why didn't we build on the beach? Well, beachfront property is so pricey we figured we could build a house, or buy a lot, but not both. The insurance and maintenance on beachfront properties is outrageous because waves and storms and hurricanes do happen, fairly regularly. We are only a short walk from the beach anyway.

We chose a lot in an area covered in dry tropical forest that is full of mahoganies, palms, frangipani, pepper cinnamon, pink poui, broadwood, and other wonderful trees and shrubs. We built on stilts because we were building on solid limestone rock. Everyone on Little Cayman uses a cistern to catch rainwater from their roof and building a cistern up from the ground was a lot easier than jack-hammering down into the rock. We sit high up in our house with a gorgeous view of the forest, birds, and assorted other inhabitants. We have daily visits from some of the world's most personable lizards—the rare Anolis maynardi called the Little Cayman green anolis—and an assortment of incredibly impressive rock iguanas, some of which are HUGE. Our "big boy" George has legs like my wrists and is almost 5 feet long, nose to tail. He is a quite harmless and mild-mannered vegetarian except when another male is caught in his territory. Then George chases the intruder off at about 30 mph careening through the rocks and trees.

This is the small green anolis lizard that lives in Little Cayman - a beautiful creature!

Because we have many flowering vines and shrubs and trees, birds also come to visit daily to sip nectar, eat berries, or drink and bathe in our bird bath, which is also popular with the lizards.

Little Cayman has two snakes. The most common is the Little Cayman racer, a slender, elegant snake with a checkerboard head end and a black back end. Its maximum length is about 2'6" and it eats frogs and lizards and probably fruit and insects. The racer is not harmful unless you stick your finger down its throat because, although mildly venomous, it is back-fanged. We see racers quite a bit and know we have at least three individuals in the yard because they differ in size. Occasionally we see the Little Cayman trope, a boa that is nocturnal and harmless if you are bigger than a frog.

This is one of the Little Cayman racers that lives in our yard.

Snake in the Car: Episode 1

About a year ago, we were in the car with some friends driving out to have lunch at the Hungry Iguana, which is virtually the only walk-in restaurant on the island. My husband was driving and suddenly gave a shout and took one hand off the steering wheel. A racer was climbing up his leg and he was trying to catch it. I shouted "Stop the car! Stop the car!" as he veered across the road and back (traffic is fortunately very limited). He stopped the car and all four of us jumped out and began searching for the snake.

Why? Not because we wanted to kill it, but we wanted to take it back to its territory (our yard) where it belonged. We looked under the seats, under the mats, between the seats: no snake. We went to the restaurant and left both doors open after smoothing the sand on either side of the car so we could see if the snake got out.

After lunch, there were no snake tracks, so we drove home and left the car doors and windows open again. By the next morning, the snake was happily going about its business in our yard. Good! Snake puree had been avoided.

Snake in the Car: Episode 2

About ten months later, we were back in Little Cayman, driving home from going somewhere. I casually glanced at my left arm (you drive on the left in the Caymans) and saw a racer uncoiling itself from the map pocket on my side. Inches away from me, it wriggled up the door on the inside. The snake continued to climb and, when it reached the top of the door, it arched over and disappeared into a heating vent. Oh great! Not that we ever use the heater, but... A few days later, we saw the snake happily sidewinding across the yard.

Snake in the car: Episode 3

Two months later, we were yet again driving to the Hungry Iguana. I yelped when I saw the snake come out from under the hood and wind itself in and out of the windshield wipers. We turned around and headed for home, calling our friend to explain we'd be a little late because we had to remove a snake from the car. "A SNAKE in the CAR?" she shrieked. When we got home, my husband grabbed for the snake but missed. The snake disappeared under the hood, then slithered out amd back to the bushes. Another rescue completed! We went triumphantly off to lunch.

What is most interesting about these stories is people's reactions. We are not unusually fond of snakes, being much fonder of mammals. I often find snakes beautiful, but I am neither horrified nor frightened to find a harmless snake in the car. Yet several friends shuddered on hearing these stories and said they would sell the car and why didn't we close it up when we parked it? We do, we explained. The snake can get in anyway. At that point, one friend said she'd sell the HOUSE AND THE CAR. (I don't regale her with stories of the lizards that come into the house or the iguanas that come up onto the deck. She doesn't need to know.) Other friends say, "Oh cool! Have you got a picture?"

What causes these disparate reactions? Some people are simply afraid of snakes. Why? I guess they seem unfamiliar, unpredictable, sneaky. There is this story in the Bible... you know it. Maybe that contributes to the anti-snake feeling. For some people, snakes just symbolize everything that is frightening and evil.

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Neither my husband nor I are generally afraid of any animal, though we are extremely cautious and respectful of powerful animals like lions. I would not be a happy chauffeur for a rattlesnake, for example, or a poisonous cobra. I am startled—surprised—to find a snake in the car yet again, but no more than that. I don't want the snake to die or go away; I simply want it to be home doing its job, where it belongs.

Now that I think about it, the wildlife is probably the best thing about our house. I know various creatures live in our forest and I like it. I like to see them, find out what they do and how they interact. They are a kind of sign that our immediate environment is healthy, that we have not ruined our little piece of the world—or the peace of the world—by living here. I don't think humans must be the implacable enemies of wild creatures and I don't think we should be.

Snakes aren't evil; they are simply snakes. But I know some people are evil. We have a choice; snakes don't. Choose wisely.