letter from the field

On the Road from Mandalay Where the Spitting Cobras Play

Joe Slowinski   

Though it has been more than ten years since Myanmar abandoned its disastrous "Bur-mese Road to Socialism"-an official policy of strict isolationism and self-reliance-the country remains remote and largely unknown to the outside world. It is also very poor, without adequate infrastructure, and burdened with an overwrought and xenophobic bureaucracy. All of which makes it one of the hardest places for a foreign scientist to work. Since the British relinquished control in 1948, few of us have ventured to Myanmar.

But these challenges have only served to whet my appetite. Two reasons for spending time here become quickly apparent to anyone who has ever visited the country. First, Myanmar-the largest country in southeast Asia at over 260,000 square miles-is a visually stunning place. Ancient gilded pagodas sprinkle the landscape; the enormous Ayeyarwady River cuts through the middle of the country, unconstrained by dams and levees; jungle-clad mountains form a continuous, horseshoe-shaped barrier around the country, isolating it from neighboring India, China, and Thailand. Second, the people are unbelievably friendly, and crime is virtually unknown.

But what really drew me to Myanmar were the reptiles and amphibians. Along with the rest of the biota, Myanmar's herpetofauna is one of the least studied in Asia. Many new species await discovery.

My project, supported by the National Science Foundation, has two parts: a general survey of the amphibians and reptiles, and a training program aimed at providing Burmese biologists with the necessary skills for conducting their own biodiversity surveys. The first component is important to our efforts to understand the composition and evolution of the southeast Asian herpetofauna. The second is critical because biodiversity surveys will provide baseline data needed for making wise conservation decisions-something Myanmar, like the rest of southeast Asia, badly needs.

I have always been primarily interested in snakes, especially venomous ones. I currently study members of the family Elapidae, which includes such highly dangerous species as cobras, coral snakes, and sea snakes. With 37 species, Myanmar is particularly rich in venomous snakes.

February 20, 1998
Accompanied by Academy herpetology colleagues Jens Vindum and Carol Spencer, I arrive on my second trip to Myanmar. First, we travel south of Mandalay to visit a wholesale snake operation, whose stock is used in Chinese traditional medicine. Although illegal in Myanmar, the snake trade thrives in the region around Mandalay. We have come to see if we can purchase any valuable specimens.

I get excited when a dark brown cobra, which we are told was caught locally, is brought out. I see immediately that it is distinct from the two known cobra species in Myanmar-the monocled cobra (Naja kaouthia) and the king cobra (Ophiophagus hannah). The monocled cobra has a circle-shaped mark-the "monocle"-on the back of its neck, clearly visible when the animal spreads its hood in response to a perceived threat. The king cobras in Myanmar are banded. Yet this cobra is patternless.

There is another big difference: this is a spitting cobra. It is capable of spraying its venom directly at the eyes of a predator, and its aim over a short range-six feet or so-is unnervingly accurate. If the victim's eyes are not immediately flushed with water, blindness may result. Spitting adds a whole new dimension to snake catching!

For a herpetologist, finding a new species is always exciting; for me, finding a new cobra species is the ultimate discovery. We buy a couple of the spitting cobras, but for specimens acquired this way there is always doubt about their original locality, so we arrange for some employees to take us out searching for other cobras. That night we drive south. We assume our guides are taking us to a thick forest and are surprised when, after an hour's journey, we stop alongside some fallow cotton fields-bare dirt everywhere and no trees. How can there be snakes here?

Soon our guides begin catching large Russell's vipers (Vipera russelli), which lie curled in the fields. This species is Myanmar's most dangerous snake-it kills more than 1,000 Burmese a year-yet our guides snag them with homemade tongs, made by connecting two flimsy bamboo rods. And they do it dressed in longyis, a sarong-like garment, and cheap sandals. Jens expresses his admiration for men who can catch large and deadly snakes wearing nothing but "dresses and flip-flops."

After two hours we have caught 15 snakes: four Russell's vipers and an assortment of other species. A great night by any snake hunter's standards, but unfortunately this night, and the rest of the month-long trip, passes without a cobra sighting.

Spring 1998
Back in the United States, with the help of cobra expert Wolfgang Wüster at the University of Wales, I begin researching whether or not the spitting cobras we purchased are a new species. It doesn't take long to learn the answer. Based on coloration, anatomical characteristics, and a comparison of its DNA to that of other Asian cobras, we determine that this is indeed a new species. We begin to write a formal description, but I am vexed by the fact that our only specimens were purchased from snake collectors and therefore have unreliable locality data.

May 6, 1998
I return to Myanmar and head straight for the Mandalay area, where, accompanied by a driver and translator, I travel west to Monywa. It is brutally hot, well over 100 ºF, but this is typical May weather in the central dry zone. This area receives much less rainfall than the rest of the country and the natural vegetation is an open scrubby savanna. In this heat, the snakes spend their days deep in rodent holes, and hunting them is a waste of time. So we travel north, stopping at each village to interview the inhabitants about the local cobras. Everyone has stories to tell about a relative or friend who was killed by a snake within the past several years. At one village, we are told that a cobra was killed just the night before, but no one seems to know where the carcass is. Come back later, they say.

We return at night, when the temperature has dropped to the level where snakes become active. In these remote parts, foreigners are rare, and my presence quickly attracts almost the entire village, which crowds around us uncomfortably close. The villagers have found the cobra carcass and brought it to us. It is the new spitting cobra; that's the good news. But terribly mangled from machete blows and highly decomposed, it is useless as a specimen.

Before dejection can set in, a woman across the village starts screaming "mwe, mwe"-Snake! Snake! I run toward the cries, accompanied by a hundred villagers. We reach a small hut, where a terrified family has a small spitting cobra cornered in the back of their home. After some awkward thrusts, I snag it with my snake tongs and secure it in a cloth bag. Finally! Elation!

All of this is hugely entertaining to the villagers crowded around, who laugh and crowd forward to shake my hand. I shake a hundred hands. Then I ask them to take me out into the fields to look for more specimens. But instead of the fields, I am led from hut to hut. At each hut, tody, a weak moonshine of fermented palm sap, is brought out in ceramic bowls. I soon realize that rather than help me find cobras, the villagers have taken this happy opportunity to begin a village-wide drinking party. After downing several bowls, I make excuses and set out in search of more cobras.

I shake a hundred hands again and climb into the car. We drive not more than 75 yards and encounter a Russell's viper stretched out on the road. It is not hard to understand why snake bites are such a big problem in central Myanmar. Here, venomous snakes are as common in and around villages as they are in more remote areas.

June 1998-April 1999
Interviews with snake hunters confirm that this new cobra is restricted solely to the central dry zone of Myanmar. Back at the Academy, Wüster and I complete our manuscript describing the new cobra. It is scheduled for publication in June 2000 in the journal Herpetologica. Meanwhile, I make plans to return to Myanmar, this time accompanied by Academy photographer Dong Lin.

May 14, 1999
We have come to Pakokku, in the central dry zone, and as night falls, we hit the road to look for snakes. Road cruising is one of the most effective ways to find snakes, especially in hot, dry areas, because snakes often seek the warmth of pavement as the temperature drops. After an hour or so, we encounter a brown snake stretched across the center of the road. As I walk toward it, it rears up and spreads its patternless hood-a sign of the new cobra.

May 16, 1999
Following several productive snake-catching nights in a row, it is time to photograph and videotape our bounty. Snakes do not lie quietly to be photographed; they prefer to crawl away. After several hours of tedious still photography, we pull out the cobra we had caught two nights ago for some video footage. I wear protective sunglasses, but suddenly the cobra darts between my legs, looks up, and lets loose with a barrage of venom. Because of the angle, some of the venom hits my eyes. I feel an instant intense burning pain, especially in my left eye, which has taken most of the venom. I start to walk for the water jug, but already my vision is so blurred that I cannot see where I'm going. I yell for water. Within seconds, Dong is pouring water liberally into both of my eyes, but minutes later they are still burning. Our driver suggests that I try a local folk remedy. I am laid on a bench and the juice from tamarind leaves is squeezed into my eyes. More searing pain! This hurts even worse than the venom. I bolt upright, yelling in agony, and pour more water into my eyes, which are now ruby red.

I lie down and try to relax. After several hours pass, my vision is fine, and I feel completely recovered. Did the tamarind juice work? I don't know. If tamarind is not available, I'm told, lime juice works as well.

October 1999
I have been back to Myanmar several times since May and have collected many interesting amphibians and reptiles, including several new species. I have also captured additional specimens of the new cobra I like to think of as mine. What intrigues me now are reports, from experienced Burmese snake collectors, that there may be a rare, second species of spitting cobra in the country, one that has a spectacle-shaped hood mark. I am on the trail.

Joe Slowinski is Assistant Curator of Herpetology at the California Academy of Sciences.