You are a technical adviser for a major motion-picture studio. Your field of expertise is horror and science-fiction thrillers. You have been handed a screenplay for an exciting new movie that calls for a wild beast on the set. The creature may have neither hair nor feathers, yet cannot resemble a fish. It must be fairly advanced, with a decent-sized brain and built about a recognizable frame. It must be extraordinarily dangerous, yet have characteristics, such as a need for food, water and air, with which the viewers will identify. To fit into the plot without inconsistency, it must have all of man’s senses plus some outrageous sixth sense that can be elaborated upon in the script. In short, it must possess capabilities that neither man nor machine can match.
Where do you start? At your local pet shop, by buying yourself a snake and taking it back to the studio.
Although the fascination with snakes goes back into time just about as far as snakes go, there is probably no animal on earth that has been more maligned and misunderstood. This timeless preoccupation, a sort of ongoing love/hate relationship, has not been so good for the snake. People have killed snakes on sight for millennia.
Personally, I have for many years now borne the brunt of being a snake lover. This has yielded not only sidelong glances, but also a shortage of dates, especially in high school. Yet whatever else people may have felt, there was always a horrified fascination. Nobody is indifferent to a snake. What is the root of this fascination? I’m not sure. Frankly, I doubt that the fear is instinctual. “Instinct” is usually a word employed when we mean “I don’t know.” More likely, this fear is learned, based upon the reputation of a small number of snakes that are in fact hazardous. The fact is that, of all the world’s snakes, only a small percentage are potential threats. The rest are by and large not only harmless but useful, as they cut down on rodents—eaters of grain and spreaders of disease.
When I was a little boy, I was terrified of snakes. It was only because I liked turtles and fancied myself a budding herpetologist that I forced myself to overcome my fear. The psychology of snake-fright might well be likened to the “Jaws effect,” though thank goodness no one has made a film about a killer snake terrorizing Long Island parking lots. The odds of being attacked by a shark while-swimming are infinitesimal, yei many people, including me, now shun good fun in the waves. By the same token, although the notorious “dangerous to man” animal corps is minute and shrinking daily, few people heed statistics. The small but very human death toll exacted every year is the spine-tingling stuff of which headlines are made. This, regrettably, causes beautiful, interesting and harmless creatures to be spurned instead of appreciated as wild creatures or wonderful pets.
A pet snake is an exotic alternative to the usual domestic fare. Some people prize snakes’ almost feline aloofness and self-sufficiency, while others simply find them beautiful and sensual. I like the feel of a snake against my skin. It is cool and smooth, and as far from slimy as can be. Most snakes can be tamed to the extent that they tolerate handling without vicious response, and some specimens seem to positively enjoy the warmth of the human touch. You never fail to create a stir when you keep a pet snake. Some of us even find the conquest of a strong fear motivation enough.
Even if you hate aloof animals, could not care less about a serpent’s dry, smooth touch and are perfectly satisfied with having a phobia here and there, the snake has one last thing to offer as a pet. The snake is possibly the easiest of all exotic pets to keep happy and healthy! Snakes take less care than any other animal with a backbone. Warm, close quarters, an occasional meal and a dish of water are all that most snakes ever require.
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