Serpentine Genius
Jun. 24th, 2004 09:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Reptiles are stupid. No offense intended to them, and they have several redeeming qualities other than their intellect, but the combination of cold blood and teeny heads leads to a creature at the low end of the intelligence spectrum.
That said, my snake stands out among his slithery kin as a particularly extreme specimen. I've known before this that he was not the brightest creature I've encountered, but tonight he proved that he is quite possibly dumber than dirt.
Tonight was snake-feeding night, never my favorite event - Orpheus has always been a finicky and sloppy eater, refusing to eat anywhere but his regular cage and often attempting to swallow rats sideways and backwards. Tonight, though, the rat slipped out of the forceps I was holding it with. I slowly guided him over to it. He checked it out, sniffing and sliding around it. He peeked at it from three or four different angles, and nudged it enough to determine where it was (he's also half-blind, which I suppose means I should cut him some slack. And then he coiled, did a little snaky equivalent of the kitty hunting butt-wiggle.... and struck and killed the newspaper several inches to one side of the rat. (For those non-reptile owners out there, his cage is lined with newspaper. It's easier to clean than just about anything else, and he doesn't mind the aesthetics.)
He's missed before, most likely due to the eyesight problems, and he usually manages to immediately spring back and move over to the prey. Not this time, though. He bore down on that paper as though it were his mortal enemy, pulling up a twist to choke in his coils and bravely tugging at the end until it tore off in his mouth.
At this point, he realized the error of his ways. Unfortunately, snakes have no arms or hands with which to brush things out of their mouths, and his little pointy backswept teeth were doing a marvelous job of lodging that sodden twist of paper right on his tongue. Imagine, if you can, the face that Kermit the Frog used to make when he was particularly upset or disgusted - the one where his entire mouth kind of rolled inward. Now imagine a rather dimwitted ball python making that face, over and over and over again, as he tries desperately to figure out how to spit. He was, of course, far too angry and aggressive at the moment for me to attempt to pull it out for him, even if I hadn't been nearly incapacitated with laughter at the spectacle.
Eventually, he did calm down enough for me to pick him up and pull the paper out for him, and give him a nice tasty rat instead (which he then attempted to eat front-feet first, ever the creative culinary artist). And I did stop laughing, after a while. It's a good thing I love him for his personality and not his mind, though.
That said, my snake stands out among his slithery kin as a particularly extreme specimen. I've known before this that he was not the brightest creature I've encountered, but tonight he proved that he is quite possibly dumber than dirt.
Tonight was snake-feeding night, never my favorite event - Orpheus has always been a finicky and sloppy eater, refusing to eat anywhere but his regular cage and often attempting to swallow rats sideways and backwards. Tonight, though, the rat slipped out of the forceps I was holding it with. I slowly guided him over to it. He checked it out, sniffing and sliding around it. He peeked at it from three or four different angles, and nudged it enough to determine where it was (he's also half-blind, which I suppose means I should cut him some slack. And then he coiled, did a little snaky equivalent of the kitty hunting butt-wiggle.... and struck and killed the newspaper several inches to one side of the rat. (For those non-reptile owners out there, his cage is lined with newspaper. It's easier to clean than just about anything else, and he doesn't mind the aesthetics.)
He's missed before, most likely due to the eyesight problems, and he usually manages to immediately spring back and move over to the prey. Not this time, though. He bore down on that paper as though it were his mortal enemy, pulling up a twist to choke in his coils and bravely tugging at the end until it tore off in his mouth.
At this point, he realized the error of his ways. Unfortunately, snakes have no arms or hands with which to brush things out of their mouths, and his little pointy backswept teeth were doing a marvelous job of lodging that sodden twist of paper right on his tongue. Imagine, if you can, the face that Kermit the Frog used to make when he was particularly upset or disgusted - the one where his entire mouth kind of rolled inward. Now imagine a rather dimwitted ball python making that face, over and over and over again, as he tries desperately to figure out how to spit. He was, of course, far too angry and aggressive at the moment for me to attempt to pull it out for him, even if I hadn't been nearly incapacitated with laughter at the spectacle.
Eventually, he did calm down enough for me to pick him up and pull the paper out for him, and give him a nice tasty rat instead (which he then attempted to eat front-feet first, ever the creative culinary artist). And I did stop laughing, after a while. It's a good thing I love him for his personality and not his mind, though.
I can relate
Date: 2004-06-24 07:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-06-24 07:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-06-24 09:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-06-25 03:11 am (UTC)Mythological shift
Date: 2004-06-25 11:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-06-25 04:19 am (UTC)Kathryn's frogs resemble that comment. European fire-bellied toad, Asian fire-bellied toad, and Cuban treefrog (listed from smallest to largest). Cute things, totally nuts, and with more personality than is probably good for them. That's probably what keeps 'em alive, I suppose.
And thanks for the laugh. I now have the image of your poor snake totally bamboozled by its newspaper prey. "I'll get you and your sports section, too!"
tee hee
Date: 2004-06-25 09:54 am (UTC)