Yesterday was one of those days where the rhythm of snake rescues felt like a test of endurance. It began with a call about a rat snake tangled in a net. The rescue was straightforward but still required patience and precision, as nets can easily cause harm if handled carelessly. We cut it loose, and it was a quiet, graceful release back into freedom. But, like many days, one rescue is rarely the end of the story.
Soon after came a call for a big one—a spectacled cobra. These rescues often carry their own weight in complexity. Cobras are quick, intelligent, and when they feel cornered, they can be unpredictable. This one was no different. It was a tricky situation from the start, requiring me to stay calm and focused. With a mix of experience, timing, and help from people around, we managed to safely contain it. But it was one of those rescues that leave you on edge, even after it’s done.
In between these two, there was another call from a factory in Kumbalgodu. I was halfway there when the call came in that the snake had already escaped. Sometimes, you’re on the road for nothing, but that’s the nature of rescues. You can’t predict how things will unfold, and even a “failed” rescue is part of the job. (For the 227 rescues I have done to date in 30 months, I may have done an equal number (if not more) of “failed” rescues.)
It’s funny how the adrenaline can keep you going, but at the same time, the physical and emotional toll creeps up on you. Yesterday, I spent over four hours dealing with these creatures. That’s four hours of bending, crouching, reacting, and maintaining a sharp focus. At 45, I am not at my youngest best either. And, it’s not just the body that feels it—there’s a constant undercurrent of tension, knowing that one wrong move could mean a disaster, not just for me, but for the snake as well.
What often goes unnoticed in this line of work is the emotional exhaustion that tags along (This could just be me and I am not echoing how other rescuers feel.). Each rescue is a balance between empathy for the creature and the pressing need to resolve a situation quickly. Every snake rescued feels like a tiny victory, but each day brings its pressures.
Snake rescuing is a task of managing both fear and respect. The fear that people have of snakes, often fueled by misunderstandings, can turn even a harmless rat snake into a cause for panic. And then there’s the respect—for the snakes, for the ecosystems they maintain, and for the fact that they, too, are trying to survive.
And it’s important to note that we don’t do this for any financial reward (despite hours taken away from our official work) — it’s a selfless act driven purely by a passion to protect these misunderstood creatures. For many of us, it’s about doing what’s right, driven by a sense of responsibility to wildlife and nature, even when there’s no recognition or compensation involved.
But despite the exhaustion, there’s something undeniably rewarding about giving these creatures another chance to live. For me, it’s never just about catching a snake—it’s about being a mediator between human fear and the natural world, trying to bridge that gap one rescue at a time.
As taxing as it is, I wouldn’t trade it for anything else. Every rescue, every release away from perceived human fear, reminds me why we do what we do: to protect the misunderstood, even when the effort goes unseen at times.