Safari Stories II: Katie's Snake Adventure
For the start of our safari adventure, click here. Links to all our pictures are here.
The summary of Katie's Great Snake Adventure doesn't sound too dramatic. It would go something like this: "Then there was the time that Katie nearly tripped over a snake on the way to our room."
But to understand the gravity of Katie's Great Snake Adventure, perhaps I should begin by saying that Katie is an admitted snake-o-phobic. She suffers from what I believe to be clinically diagnosable leglessslitheryreptilephobia.
In Brooklyn, there was a pet food store where the owner had a couple little footlong garden snakes as pets a couple blocks from where we lived on Seventh Avenue. Sometimes he would sit in front of his shop with his snake curled up around his neck or in his hand.
Needless to say, upon making this startling discovery, Katie never went into that pet food store again. There was another pet store slightly further away, and she went there instead. But her phobia demanded more of her than that. If Katie ever saw the owner of these dreaded snakes sitting out in front of his shop as we walked down the block, she would cross the street before ever getting close enough to know if he had his snake with him.
Katie suffers from this phobia so acutely that, before we left for our safari, she studied up on the snakes of southern Africa in a field guide we had in the apartment. Katie maintains this was just prudent preparation for our trip to the bush. She looked at the pictures of the snakes intently, and read about the habitats and habits of each of the deadly ones. By the time we left for our trip, she knew that the African Rock Python can eat a small antelope, that the Puff Adder travels in a straight line instead of a slither, and that the largest and deadliest of Africa's poisonous snakes, the Black Mamba, can do an eight-minute mile.
So when the moment came, and we were walking back from the lodge's office during our mid-day break, and we cut across the lawn in our flip-flops to our room, and Katie spotted the literal snake in the literal grass as it was beating a hasty retreat from us... well, she had a bit of credibility on her side when she uttered the startled words:
"Oh my God! That was a Black Mamba!"
I never saw it. It was too fast. But I saw the closest bush to us, about three feet away, as it shook when the snake went into hiding there. Katie says she and her unprotected ankles got within 18 inches or so.
To Katie's credit, she didn't freak out too much. She did immediately move so that I was between her and the bush, and then decide, conveniently, that she should be the one to alert the lodge's staff while I stood there and made sure our new friend didn't go anywhere. But she didn't freak out too much.
Later, though, Katie realized several things:
...and...
Meanwhile, as she was coming to these conclusions while locked safely in our room, the rangers were literally beating the literal bushes. My dad was watching and came back mid-way through the process to give us an update.
"Yep," he said. "The rangers said it was a Black Mamba."
We got the full story from them that night. The fact that it turns out that their--and Katie's--initial impression about what type of snake it was turned out to be somewhat incorrect, and the fact that it was instead a harmless species called a variegated wolf snake, and the fact that this meant we were never in any danger, doesn't change the fact that Katie's fear of snakes really is slightly abated by the entire experience.
It was abated enough that she managed to get pretty close to our next reptilian visitor.
That one was classified by the rangers as a young African Rock Python.
Katie, with her extensive knowledge of the entire snake family, corroborated this identification.
The summary of Katie's Great Snake Adventure doesn't sound too dramatic. It would go something like this: "Then there was the time that Katie nearly tripped over a snake on the way to our room."
But to understand the gravity of Katie's Great Snake Adventure, perhaps I should begin by saying that Katie is an admitted snake-o-phobic. She suffers from what I believe to be clinically diagnosable leglessslitheryreptilephobia.
In Brooklyn, there was a pet food store where the owner had a couple little footlong garden snakes as pets a couple blocks from where we lived on Seventh Avenue. Sometimes he would sit in front of his shop with his snake curled up around his neck or in his hand.
Needless to say, upon making this startling discovery, Katie never went into that pet food store again. There was another pet store slightly further away, and she went there instead. But her phobia demanded more of her than that. If Katie ever saw the owner of these dreaded snakes sitting out in front of his shop as we walked down the block, she would cross the street before ever getting close enough to know if he had his snake with him.
Katie suffers from this phobia so acutely that, before we left for our safari, she studied up on the snakes of southern Africa in a field guide we had in the apartment. Katie maintains this was just prudent preparation for our trip to the bush. She looked at the pictures of the snakes intently, and read about the habitats and habits of each of the deadly ones. By the time we left for our trip, she knew that the African Rock Python can eat a small antelope, that the Puff Adder travels in a straight line instead of a slither, and that the largest and deadliest of Africa's poisonous snakes, the Black Mamba, can do an eight-minute mile.
So when the moment came, and we were walking back from the lodge's office during our mid-day break, and we cut across the lawn in our flip-flops to our room, and Katie spotted the literal snake in the literal grass as it was beating a hasty retreat from us... well, she had a bit of credibility on her side when she uttered the startled words:
"Oh my God! That was a Black Mamba!"
I never saw it. It was too fast. But I saw the closest bush to us, about three feet away, as it shook when the snake went into hiding there. Katie says she and her unprotected ankles got within 18 inches or so.
To Katie's credit, she didn't freak out too much. She did immediately move so that I was between her and the bush, and then decide, conveniently, that she should be the one to alert the lodge's staff while I stood there and made sure our new friend didn't go anywhere. But she didn't freak out too much.
Later, though, Katie realized several things:
1. Pretty much the worst thing that could possibly happen--besides actually being bitten by Africa's deadliest snake--had happened;
2. She had survived;
3. She had acted rather well, given the circumstances;
4. That maybe her fear of snakes diminished just a bit as a result of the whole thing;
...and...
5. Despite number 4, she was not going to be wearing her flip-flops around the lodge for the remaineder of our visit.
Meanwhile, as she was coming to these conclusions while locked safely in our room, the rangers were literally beating the literal bushes. My dad was watching and came back mid-way through the process to give us an update.
"Yep," he said. "The rangers said it was a Black Mamba."
We got the full story from them that night. The fact that it turns out that their--and Katie's--initial impression about what type of snake it was turned out to be somewhat incorrect, and the fact that it was instead a harmless species called a variegated wolf snake, and the fact that this meant we were never in any danger, doesn't change the fact that Katie's fear of snakes really is slightly abated by the entire experience.
It was abated enough that she managed to get pretty close to our next reptilian visitor.
That one was classified by the rangers as a young African Rock Python.
Katie, with her extensive knowledge of the entire snake family, corroborated this identification.
posted by Erik at 11:43 pm
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