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"Herps of the Southeast"
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Stop
21
Florida
Caverns
State Park, FL |
Featured Herp
Cottonmouth
(Agkistrodon piscivorous) |
Eastern Cottonmouth
(Agkistrodon piscivorous)
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Cowards, Bluffers,
and Warriors
by Whit Gibbons and
Mike Dorcas
(an edited version of this article appeared
in
Natural History Magazine, 11/1998)

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Pushing aside the large fan of a
palmetto and stepping from the dark, muddy edge of the cypress swamp into
the even darker shallow water, we headed toward a fallen log where a
three-foot-long, muddy brown cottonmouth was coiled. On this cool spring
day, it had picked a sunny, dry spot on which to warm itself.
While Mike, a little ways away, held the stopwatch and recorded data, Whit
stepped onto the huge cypress log where the cottonmouth was resting. Its
tongue flicked out inquiringly as Whit inched closer, and by the time the
side of his boot nudged against the big snake's outer coil, the animal's
mouth was wide open, exposing the white interior that earned the species
its name. The male (it was too large to be a female) held its ground and
exposed its fangs; its head and body expanded. It now vibrated its tail in
a formidable effort to scare us away.
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Our behavior was not entirely foolhardy, as we were
wearing snake-proof boots (at least, that's what the label said). We were
testing our theory that venomous snakes bite people only as a last
resort--once they have determined that an easy escape is not possible or
that the intruder cannot be held off by a threat display. The idea was put
most succinctly in the 1950s by the late herpetologist Clifford Pope:
"Snakes are first cowards, then bluffers, and last of all
warriors." Our study was designed to determine at what point the
warrior mode comes into play. We'd tested more than forty cottonmouths in
the swamps and wetlands of South Carolina's Savannah River, and they had
bitten only when stepped on or picked up. |

Defensive posture
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After twenty seconds, Mike signaled and Whit nudged the snake harder with his boot.
It closed its mouth and attempted to escape by slithering partway into the water. Whit
placed his boot firmly on the rear half of its body, holding it on the
log. The snake turned back to face the boot and reopened its mouth but
still did not strike. Again twenty seconds elapsed. We could now detect
the unmistakable musk of an alarmed cottonmouth; some people say the smell
is like cucumbers. Only when Whit grasped the snake mid-body with a leather
glove had the cottonmouth finally had enough. The. fangs sank deep into
the glove, and venom dripped out of the animal's mouth. (The glove,
however, was not on Whit's hand but had been fitted onto the open end of a
pair of "snake tongs" some three and a half feet long.)
About 10 percent of the snakes we've
tested have bitten the boot after being stepped on, only 40 percent have
struck when picked up with "the hand." Understanding how a
cottonmouth protects itself requires adopting the point of view of a
snake: What if you were only a couple of inches tall and a towering beast
were approaching? Striking is a last resort. To begin with, by challenging
a much larger enemy, the snake is potentially exposing itself to a great
danger. It also needs to conserve its precious venom. Composed of complex
proteins that require time and energy to produce, venom is vital for
capturing prey.
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Cottonmouth Flier
(PDF) |
When cottonmouths bite people
defensively, they often inject less venom than they have available. The
importance of conserving venom is indicated by laboratory studies showing a
high proportion of so-called dry bites, in which little or no venom is
injected. Experiments have demonstrated that venomous snakes can control the
amount of venom injected during a strike, using only what is necessary to
subdue prey. It would seem that natural selection should therefore favor
those snakes that use venom only as a last resort for defense.
No reliable snakebite statistics are
available to confirm the exact number of bites cottonmouths inflict each
year, but the estimated numbers are much lower than for copperheads or
rattlesnakes. In the United States, an average of fewer than ten people die
each year from the bites of all native snakes. So far, our results show that
we should not be so quick to indict cottonmouths as aggressive enemies
prepared to attack.
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J. Whitfield Gibbons; a University of Georgia professor
of ecology at the Savannah River Ecology Laboratory (SREL), is the author of
Ecoviews: Snakes, Snails, and Environmental Tales (University of Alabama
Press, 1998).
Michael E. Dorcas is an assistant professor of biology at Davidson College in
North Carolina and the author of several journal articles and book chapters
on herpetology.
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