Hunting Pythons

An invasive species is an introduced plant or animal that harms its new environment. Invasive species damage bioregions and habitats, causing environmental and ecological damage. They are a global problem, from Burmese pythons in the Florida Everglades to the Northern Snakehead in the Amu Darya of Uzbekistan. We can find invasive species in our yards, parks, and throughout our environment. When we find them, we can remove them.

By Mark D. Harris

The world that God made is magnificent, a web of plants and animals dedicated to giving glory to the Creator and enjoyment and sustenance to His creatures. In His perfect design, everything has a time and a place. Trouble comes when a plant or animal moves, or is moved, outside its time or place.[1] The Northern Snakehead fish is native to East Asia and is an important source of food for people and animals. When Soviet authorities tried to bring the Northern Snakehead to the vulnerable Central Asian environment, trouble began. The Burmese Python is native to Southeast Asia. When Floridians bought Pythons as pets, and then released them into the Everglades when the snakes got too big to keep at home, trouble began. Pythons proliferated, growing to numbers in the hundreds of thousands. From 1996 to 2011, sightings of furry mammals dropped 90% due to predation of raccoons, opossums, bobcats, rabbits, and foxes. Burmese pythons are hard to find, proliferate rapidly (females hatch 50-100 eggs per year), and the largest ones can even kill alligators. Only the ultimate apex predator, man, using a combination of hunting and scientific methods, can turn the tide.

I stand in awe of the God who created this universe and have a fond affection for His creatures, whether plants or animals. Though not created in the image of God (imago dei), like man is, each living being has a unique environment, genetic makeup, history, and personality. Physical places such as grasslands, mountains, forests, jungles, and deserts provide the stage on which we live our lives, and phenomena like ocean tides and the northern lights inspire wonder. The Lord commanded us to take care of the garden, the Creation, which He made. We were to care for the earth like a good shepherd cares for his sheep. However, man’s footprint on the environment has been heavy and not always good. An adventure brought this home in spades.

The Python Hunt

After years of thinking about it, I signed up for a Burmese python hunt in January 2025. Suspecting that I would not see a python on my own, much less capture and kill one, I booked a hunt with a local Florida guide, Python Cowboy. The price tag gave me sticker shock, but I figured that having a boat, a guide, and a python-sniffing dog would make the difference in my success. My friend Jeff flew from California, I flew from North Carolina, and we met in Fort Lauderdale on 22 January.

We met our guide, Sammie Allgood, and our dog, Fenix, at 1000 (10 AM) at the Everglades Holiday Park. Sammie told Jeff and me what to do if we found a snake. I had broken my left shoulder blade in a skiing accident the previous Saturday and was wearing a homemade swathe, so I was functionally one-armed but still two-handed. Sammie put on some southern rock, since most customers request music on their hunts, but I asked him to turn it off so we could hear nature instead of guitars. Burmese pythons are not venomous but instead kill by constriction. According to Sammie, if a python wrapped itself around a human’s neck, it could cut off the air supply in eleven seconds.

Sammie, Fenix, Jeff, and I motored through the canals west of Fort Lauderdale. Our morning was cold and overcast. We spotted peacocks, egrets, herons, hawks, osprey, vultures, and a host of smaller birds. Fenix loved the wind in her face and scampered back and forth across the boat looking for prey on the nearby shores. An alligator came into view on the water bank and then slid under the water. The islands were mostly dry, not muddy, and calf-high rubber boots were not necessary. Ankle boots were adequate, but open-toed shoes and shorts would have been an invitation to cuts and scratches from the underbrush and bites from insects and snakes on the ground. We did not see any water moccasins. If we had, calf-length rubber boots may have been wise.

We had searched several small islands, traipsing through often dense underbrush, when we first heard Fenix bark. I arrived a few seconds later to find her facing off with an angry python about eight feet long. Sammie yelled at Fenix, “Don’t bite the snake!” I grabbed the python’s tail with my left hand and the snake swung its head towards me. Then, as instructed, I grabbed the snake just below the skull to prevent it from twisting around and biting me. Jeff came up. Sammie opened a snake bag, and I put the middle of the snake in, and then the tail. Finally, I thrust in the head. Putting in the head is dangerous because if you let go, don’t thrust the head down, and don’t pull your hand out fast, you might get bit. Pythons have sharp, needle-like teeth in rows that cause a painful injury. They can bite through most gloves. Sammie tied the bag, and we returned to the boat, full of the thrill of victory.

After motoring farther into the Everglades, we searched more islands on the canal and found nothing. I had started wearing gloves, not that they would protect my hands from a python bite, but to keep them warm on this cold day and to avoid getting jabbed or cut from the underbrush that we were pushing through on the islands. We came to the next island and Fenix jumped off the boat. Sammie, Jeff, and I followed her. Suddenly we heard Fenix bark and in a few seconds came face to face with another irate python, this time over nine feet long. I grabbed the tail as before, but this snake wasn’t going down without a fight. He curved himself back towards me, trying to strike. With my left hand, I jerked his tail across my body. This thrust his body in between his teeth and my arm and whiplashed his head farther away from me. The snake tried the same maneuver, and I jerked him around again. This continued for a while, a one-armed man against a fiery python. Eventually, he slowed, and I grabbed his upper neck at the base of his skull. Unable to move his head, the snake began wrapping his body around my right arm and squeezing with all his might in the hopes of forcing me to release his head. Not a chance. Sammie and Jeff started uncoiling him, and soon we had him in the bag.

We realized that Fenix could scout the islands by herself, and so, I say with a little embarrassment, we stayed in the boat and let her scout the islands. After a few more islands, she barked again. We took longer to join her since we had farther to go. Sammie arrived first and found that the python, about six feet long, had tried to slither into the water to escape her. Fenix grabbed the snake’s tail with her teeth and pulled him back onto the land. A little blood revealed that Fenix got bit too, but not seriously. Sammie grabbed the tail, which I took from his hand. Jeff seized the neck at the head, aiming just right to avoid a bite himself. Much more expertly than before, we thrust the snake into a bag. Soon, three angry Burmese pythons in snake bags littered the bottom of our boat. These were all male, and we tried but failed to find our prime quarry, the breeding female.

With time running low, we sped back to the boat dock on the canal. The air was cold, especially with the wind whistling by. The sun had never come out. We reached the dock, and Jeff and I each grabbed a bag for the final photo. I heard the hissing sounds that were coming from the bags get louder. I noticed the surface of a bag change shape as if a python were opening its mouth to bite through the bag. Pythons like to eat warm, furry mammals, and humans are warm mammals, though not so furry, so those in the bag probably sensed prey. Cautioned, we held the bags further from our legs for the picture. The knot in the bags was large so our hands were not in bite range. No one got bit.

Sammie said that the pythons would be frozen to kill them. That method is humane and does not give bacteria in and on the snake a chance to destroy the snake’s skin. Jeff and I left for the hotel, cleaned up, and met friends for dinner. The following day, we departed for home. Was the trip worth it? It depends on how much you want to get a python. If you don’t really care about getting a python, don’t spend the money. If you really want to get a python (or three), using experienced guides, boats, and dogs as they do with Python Cowboy seems to be the best option. It certainly worked for us.

We are looking forward to enjoying our python skin belt, wallet, key rings (for gifts), and lady’s clutch.

Conclusion

The immediate issue here is not the choice of a guide but the problem of pythons in the Florida Everglades, and increasingly, farther north. Pythons are powerful, dangerous, and elusive. They devastate the natural environment and the economy.

But the invasive species problem is also bigger than pythons. The US Department of Agriculture National Invasive Species Information Center estimates that there are 6,500 invasive species across the United States.[2] Thousands more plague every corner of the globe. Many, like pythons, are nearly impossible to eradicate.

At the highest level, God tasked Mankind with caring for the garden He gave us (Genesis 1:28). Our task is to decrease consumption, act humanely, gain knowledge about the natural world, and preserve the balance of creatures in nature are ways to do that. Just like every man has his time and place on earth, every other creature has its time and place. Eliminating invasive species is another part of shepherding Creation.

While not everyone needs to be a python hunter, every Christian does need to care for their part of God’s creation.