Alan Lee I was deeply saddened to hear about the death of yet another Bushmaster recently, this time at Posada. However, I was not surprised since it is the third to meet its fate at the end of a machete in the last year due to the fear that people have of what is know here as the “Shushupe”. Yes, this is a potentially very dangerous snake but, I can’t help feeling that its status has been blown out of proportion – unless the Bushmasters of the Tambopata are a gentler breed. But their reputation will stand as long as we need something to be afraid of. Maybe we have an excuse as this is the description from an “eco” site shows the image that people like to associate with it… “The Bushmaster, Lachesis muta muta is the largest Pit Viper in the world with a nasty reputation as a "cruel dude". The Bushmaster is a huge, thick-bodied and highly venomous snake with a triangularly shaped head, one of nature's warning signs that a snake is poisonous and potentially deadly. Bushmasters live in remote, heavily forested tropical jungle terrain. Isolated in their jungle environment, envenomation by a Bushmaster is very serious, sometimes fatal and particularly dangerous to humans. The Bushmaster has earned this fierce reputation, known to aggressively attack man but only few human attacks have been recorded due primarily to the Bushmaster's nocturnal nature. Even if they do attack only occasionally, the Bushmaster is greatly feared by people indigenous to their jungle habitat. Appropriately named in English, the name Bushmaster when translated from Latin means "Brings Silent Death". One of the largest and most dangerous snakes in South America, the Bushmaster is capable of multiple bite strikes, injecting large amount of venom and even the bite of a juvenile Bushmaster can be fatal.” The first time I heard of an innocent encounter with a Bushmaster and a tourist was shortly after I had arrived in Peru at Explorer’s Inn. Someone came back from a walk on the trails saying he had seen a snake and taken photos of it. As it had not been in a good position, hidden by leaves and bushes, he had poked and prodded it with a stick to get it into a better position. When the photo arrived, it was a Bushmaster… the inexperienced tourist had been prodding the most aggressive snake in the region and was not even hissed at! Then, a few months later my housemate, Stewart Long, whom I was sharing a place with on the outskirts of town told of how he had stumbled home late one night with beer in hand and by the starlight had seen something he thought was a 3m long branch lying across the path. Having his camera handy, he snapped a photo to see by the light of the flash that is was a gigantic snake. Realising this he went and called the local night watchman, who came along with a torch to announce the snake was an Anaconda. Calmed by the fact that he was dealing with a non-venomous snake, Stewart approached very close and took multiple photos from within 1m. The snake eventually moved off and hid in a thicket. When I saw the photos I was amazed! I had at this stage yet to encounter a Bushmaster myself in the wild and believed all the human chasing rumours I had heard, although by this time I had my doubts of course. These snakes are by no means common in our part of the Amazon. During 2004 I participated in a year long project looking at the impact of tourism on wildlife. Part of the team were up to 5 herpetologists who went out every night looking for frogs and snakes. During the whole year 4 were seen, and only 1 was caught. This beautiful giant was brought back triumphantly by the team at the end of the year and for the first time I was able to see and handle this incredibly engineered, amazingly patterned beauty. She made not one aggressive lunge or attempt to strike during her 2 days of manhandling as her scales were counted and she was posed with the various research members for photos – even when during one such staging she fell out of control off the shoulders of the lead herpetologist, knocking a close by spectator who escaped with a mere extra surge of adrenalin. If ever there was an excuse for a snake to be angry and aggressive, that was it, but when posed for photos the only moves she would ever make were to try and slither away escape. Last year I walked hundreds of kilometres looking for parrots and macaws, and would often have to leave the lodge between in the dark hours of the morning to get to observation points by sunrise – during the time when these snakes are meant to be most active. During all this time I encountered only one Bushmaster, coiled up on the side of the path where I could have passed within striking distance. All the snake did was stay coiled up, in a defensive position, waiting for me, the intruder into its world, to leave it in peace. I walked past that spot many times subsequently, and never saw the snake again. If they are territorial, its not to the same small area. A few months after that encounter my girlfriend, Anja, was heading home rapidly at dusk after completing an evening survey near Posada, in a hurry as she had forgotten her torch at the lodge. Suddenly from in front of her a head reared up and hissed in the location of her next step. A Bushmaster sat coiled on the path looking at her, tasting the air with its tongue. After backing away and giving the snake space to go around and get back to the lodge, she asked me: “why was it so aggressive?” “It was merely warning you that it was there”, I answered, “If it had really been a malignant animal it could easily have bitten you instead, but it didn’t. It was merely saying in its own way ‘Here I am! Watch out!’”. And Anja understood. And now, some months later, several hundred meters from where that encounter took place, a Bushmaster has been killed. I suspect it was the same one Anja encountered and feel saddened that this peaceful animal, that was simply looking after itself, is with us no more. It will probably join the pickled Shushupe in the red dustbin that is dragged out from time to time as the morbid symbol of our irrational fears. Stop the snakism, they don’t deserve it – after all anyone in human society who had no arms and legs with which to get through the day would earn our respect and sympathy, not be an object of hatred.
