I was watching a documentary on PBS the other
day and came to the realization that America is not
doing enough to control the population of a certain
group that keeps sneaking into the country and causing
trouble. This is a growing problem in Florida and
could become a major problem in the rest of the country,
unless immigration laws are tightened to keep
these slithery individuals from entering the country.
I am speaking, of course, about
Burmese pythons. According to the
documentary Invasion of the Giant
Pythons, thousands of these pythons
are brought into the country
annually to sell to snake enthusiasts.
A snake enthusiast is a person
who enjoys keeping snakes as pets
and is not required by law to take
any medication for this condition.
America has tens of thousands
of snake enthusiasts—and if you
don’t believe me, just go to any
hospital emergency room. You are
likely to find a snake enthusiast
there, saying to the doctor, “He seemed so friendly. I
don’t know what got into him.”
As the documentary indicates, many snake enthusiasts
in Florida have adopted Burmese pythons.
Here’s what typically happens: a woman spots a baby
python in a pet store and says, “Awwww … he looks so
cute. Can we get him? We’ll call him Myron.” And her
husband says, “Sure, why not? What could go wrong?”
About a year later, the woman is surprised to find
that her cute little python now weighs 300 pounds and
her husband has gone missing.
She puts “Missing” posters all over the neighborhood.
“I miss my husband,” she tells her friends. “But
at least I have Myron to curl up in bed with—and he
doesn’t snore.”
When Myron grows to be over 25 feet long, the
woman decides to let him go. “He’s a little too long
for me,” she tells her friends. “I’ll be curled up in bed
with part of him and the other part of him will be
in the living room, watching Invasion of the
Great Pythons.”
She takes him to the wetlands of Florida
and releases him into the wild. There he runs
into his long-lost uncles, aunts, nephews, and
cousins, several of them living in a discarded
oil drum imprinted with the letters BP, which
he knows stands for Burmese Pythons. Some of these
pythons, like him, were released by pet owners, but
most are escapees from animal warehouses damaged
by hurricanes and the sets of bad Hollywood movies.
I know what you’re thinking: “What’s the harm in
a bunch of pythons slithering around parts of Florida?
After all, Florida is full of slithering creatures, not all
of whom have dated Taylor Swift.”
Well, Shawn Heflick, a herpetologist
featured in the documentary,
would agree with you, at
least partly. Burmese pythons “are
not prone to attack humans unless
molested or grabbed,” he says.
That might put my mind at ease,
but the documentary also showed
a python swallowing an alligator
whole. I don’t know about you, but
any creature that can swallow an
alligator whole scares the living
(bleep) out of me. Given a choice
between touching a Burmese python
or spending a day with one of the Kardashians,
I’d have a real dilemma on my hands.
The documentary showed in vivid detail the variety
of items on a Burmese python’s menu. A scientist
cut open a python captured in Florida and found
the remains of an alligator, two exotic birds, an
adult deer and 438 missing votes from the 2000 presidential
election.
Thankfully, Florida officials aren’t ignoring the
problem. They’re giving permits to volunteers to hunt
the pythons. They’re also organizing Pet Amnesty
Days, allowing people to turn in pets they don’t want
anymore, so other people can adopt them.
Anyone want to adopt a 25-foot Burmese python?
It’s friendly, doesn’t snore and can swallow other creatures
you don’t like: rats, alligators, raccoons—perhaps
even a Kardashian or two.