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The Newsletter of the Colorado Herpetological Society

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Mamba Memories

by Brett Ridgeway

I have been interested in snakes since I was about eight years old. Reading every book on the subject, I also caught and kept snakes while growing up. After my surrender to the mission field of Kenya, I came across the book Sun, Sand, and Snakes by Stephen Spawls in our public library. I read through the book at least three times. Still, as exciting as his Kenyan ventures were, it was never believable to me that I would have such experiences. In our two years in Kenya, however, we had many encounters with Forest Cobras, Red Spitting Cobras, African Puff Adders, and a variety of other snakes, as well as a six-foot monitor. More than once I had these encounters on our way to and from our remotely located church.

This particular day he was nine feet long and lying across the road. As we approached, he raised his coffin-shaped head four feet into the air, and in one fluid movement, disappeared into the bush. Before Sonja had time to stop the vehicle, I jumped from the running board, stumbling and making every effort to keep my balance. Regaining step, I continued, tongs in hand, to the patch of thorn scrub where the snake had disappeared.

The patch was small, and I thought that he had continued on through. But as I began to search, I heard a loud rustle and saw the snake exit out the other side, where Luka was waiting with my other tongs. I made a dash after him, but he seemed to vanish once again. I began to search the surrounding holes and trees, to no avail. Suddenly, excited shouts rose from the women secure in the back of the Land Cruiser. "Nyoka! Nyoka!" they cried, frantically pointing to the fleeing snake as it re-entered the brush. I returned to the patch and began poking and parting the tall grass. No snake.

I continued to work my way along, lifting broken and dead branches. Finally, I found a small, shallow hole. The opening was covered with thorns, brush, and roots. I cleared away the debris the best I could using my tongs, and peered inside. Still no snake. Then I heard the dry slithering sound of scales against rock. With new enthusiasm, I began to clear away more brush. With just a single root implanted across the top, I was able to see a coil in the dark shadows of the hole.

I would have just one chance to make the grab, and I was nervous -- but for another reason. Seeing only one coil, I didn't know at which end I would be grabbing the snake. My longest tongs were only four feet, and this snake was much larger than that. If I were to grasp him too close to the tail, he would have five or six feet of body length with which to strike. I still hadn't had a clear view of him, so I wasn't even sure with what kind of snake I was dealing.

Prepared for the worst, I carefully lowered my tongs on the right side of the root to the vulnerable coil. The jaws of the tongs clamped shut and the snake shot from the hole on the left side of the root -- directly at me! Abruptly, his strike was brought short just a couple of feet shy of my bare hands by that life-saving root!. As long as I kept steady pressure on the tongs, the snake could not advance -- unless he went back around the root.

Immediately, he attacked the tongs that held him firm. He struck repeatedly as I watched droplets of venom run down the shiny aluminum shaft. After several strikes he stopped, pulled back, and in an almost bird-like manner, looked me over as if to size me up. I wondered if he had exhausted his venom supply with his attack on the tongs, because it was at that moment I realized I was dealing with a large Black Mamba!. I also realized that I was in quite a predicament.

The mamba remained motionless, alert and poised to strike. The stare-down continued until I finally remembered my other tongs. "Luka," I called, "quick, bring me the tongs!" I could well have been talking to the acacia trees surrounding us, because poor Luka was scared stiff! "Luka!....Listen to me!" I pleaded in Swahili, "bring me my tongs!" Instead, he began to back away shaking his head.

As hard as I tried, I just could not convince him to bring me the tongs. It was just a matter of minutes until the snake would figure out that he simply needed to back around the root to reach me. They were minutes that I did not have to waste.

I truly believed that had I released my grip on the snake, he would have probably fled -- the key word being 'probably.' Still, I didn't want to loose this prize! The waiting, however, was getting risky. I was beginning to get frustrated and upset with the still-terrified Luka. In desperation, I yelled at him, "Luka, ninahitaji tongs sasa hivi!" I growled. The words probably meant little, but the angry tone startled him as it began to penetrate his fear. After a few more minutes, he slowly inched forward and handed me the tongs at arm's length. With a leap, a jump, and a short quick jaunt, he retreated to the safety of the road.

With the other pair of tongs, I was able to maneuver the mamba from his place of refuge and carry him to the open dirt road where I had a little more room to work. Anyone who has ever stuffed a large, active, non-venomous snake into a bag knows what a difficult task that can be. With a Black Mamba, there would be no second chance.

I remembered reading about a technique used to bag agile and dangerous snakes. I had never tried it before, but now seemed as good a time as any to try it. While holding steady pressure on the tongs that were gripping the snake's neck, I released the second pair that was holding the body. Putting my free hand down inside the inverted snake bag, I grasped the mamba's head and neck through the sack. The bag was pulled right-side out over the struggling snake. My hand was now on the outside, the mamba's head on the inside. My dear wife, out of concern for me, held the bag as I proceeded to stuff the long, slender body into it with my free hand, while maintaining a strong head grip with the other. Quickly, she tied the bag shut and I released the snake safely in the confines of the bag.

I never realized the sweat that was pouring down my face and neck until the snake was safe and secure in the sack. If I would have had a longer pair of tongs and some more help, things would have gone much easier and been a lot less dangerous. Nevertheless, the excitement of that capture and the memories of that day will be with me forever!