Of Hisses and Smooth Scales

Don't get me wrong. I'm terrified of snakes! Sure, they bite, hug (more of constrict) and they may even eat you. But when you get to know them better, the less you become afraid of those scaly and crawling creatures. You would (somehow) know what to do when you meet a snake. Cobras bite only when cornered. And they bite moving objects. What to do in case of an encounter with a cobra? Keep still and give it an opportunity to crawl away. Depending on what they've eaten last, pythons can go on without food for at least a week. The forests and caves offer plenty of food to pythons that they must always be full. I actually saw most of the pythons inside caves, like the one in Bathala Caves in Marinduque. Dindo and Pie, my Marinduque friends, and I were doing some ocular of the cave system when we saw a python slowly gobbling up a swiftlet. We got near it and took some photos of the snake with its entire mouth stuffed with feathers. The python went on its business as if we were not there.

A rather stupid thing I did was when I inspected a cave in San Juan, Batangas. The barangay captain who accompanied me sported a bolo and guided me to a cave near the sea. At the entrance of the cave, he showed me an s-mark indention on the soil. "This is a snake mark," he told me. Maybe he was expecting that I would back out, but I motioned to enter the cave. Surprise! I traveled four hours from Manila half expecting an impressive and huge cave which turned out to be less than ten meters long. So that was one cave off the tourism list. But what was inside more than compensated for the mediocrity of the cave. There were a few bats flying and clinging around the walls. In one crevice was a python that slowly undulated as it moved around its tiny abode. It was a graceful sight and I knew I had to take some pictures. I told the village chief what I was about to do and got ready to come as close as possible to the undulating python. But before he let me do my thing, he pointed towards the ceiling. Up there on a ceiling crevice was another moving python. I asked him if I could still take some photos. He swallowed hard, drew his bolo and nodded a bit. Perhaps comforted by the drawn bolo and the captain's ready-to-hack stance, I slowly walked near the python on the wall, about 10 feet right below the other one. I made some quick snaps and walked outside. I heard the captain heave a sigh of relief, and I was so excited with what I just experienced. Some years later, I heard of a man who, out of jest, coiled a beaten and half-dead python around his belly, and cut off its head. The python did a finale spasm and constricted, which in turn killed the man. I guess I was very, very lucky that the python above me must had been full and did not fall on my head.