"The next morning I was up early trying to figure out how to photograph
the viper without being bitten or allowing it to escape. The solution
was simple. I placed the snake in our ice chest for several minutes
until it was cool enough to be safely manipulated. However, instead of
concentrating on photographing the snake, I was now distracted by the
wonderful smells emanating from the kitchen, and soon I found myself
with fork in hand and a mouthful of the fluffiest scrambled eggs I had
ever eaten.
“More eggs, Paul?” Tom asked, after my third helping.
“No, not for me, I don’t eat breakfast,” I explained. At that point, I
remembered what I had initially intended to do before I got sidetracked.
I jumped up from the table and ran over to the ice chest.
“Damn it,” I bellowed, as I opened the ice chest. The pillowcase that
contained the snake had fallen and was now submerged under three inches
of ice water.
“Problem?” Jack asked.
“I just killed the Bothrops.” I was hoping to keep it alive to bring back
to the States, as I had promised a colleague that I would save him any live
pit vipers I came across. On the bright side, I no longer had to worry
about the snake escaping or biting me while I tried to photograph it. I
carried it by hand to a small clearing near one of the huts. Placing the
reptile in various “naturalistic” poses, I took several photographs that I
thought made the snake appear to be alive. (This is a common technique
I have used on many expeditions and is referred to in the business as
“nature faking.”) Following the photo shoot, I returned the snake to the
cold, soaked bag, tied a knot in it, and hung it on a nail in the main dining
room for Jack to preserve. Half an hour later, Jack removed the bag from
its perch, untied the knot, and poured the contents on the table. Before
grabbing the snake, he gave it a long, hard look, then turned and gave me
a long, cold stare. The “dead” snake was flicking its tongue as it slowly
crawled off the table.
Two days later, another herper wanted to photograph the snake, but
since the viper had had time to recover, I decided it would be safer if once
again we cooled it down first. After nearly forty-five minutes in the cooler,
I was both astonished and extremely upset with myself to discover that,
once again, I had killed the snake. This time, however, I was careful not to
use my hands during the photo session, just in case we were dealing with
some kind of supernatural snake. The precaution was well founded. Several
minutes after the “dead” snake was exposed to the warm environment,
“Lazarus” was once again among the living. This was one snake I
was not going to turn my back on and would never again try to photograph.
Despite the failed attempts on its life, the snake survived the trip
to the United States. It was welcomed by my colleague who, after hearing..."
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