Enrique Galan is paralyzed with fear whenever he encounters a yellow grasshopper, but he doesn’t hesitate to stray among the Everglades’ vegetation to hunt Burmese pythons, a dangerous invasive snake that has been ravaging Florida’s wetland ecosystem for decades.
When she’s not producing cultural events in Miami, Galan, 34, spends her time tracking these Southeast Asian nocturnal reptiles.
He does so as a professional hunter hired by the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission (FWC) to help control the state’s population of this constrictor snake, which experts estimate to number in the tens of thousands.
At night, Galan drives his truck for miles on paved roads and gravel tracks.
He drives slowly, looking with his flashlight at the grass on the bank, the roots of the trees or the banks of the canals of Everglades National Park, where here and there the eyes of alligators shine.
He charges $13 per hour, plus an additional fee per python found: $50 if it’s up to 4 feet long, and $25 more for each additional foot.
But on this August evening, the budding actor has extra motivation. For the past 10 days, the FWC has been holding a python hunting competition, in which about 800 people take part.
The prize is $2,500 for whoever finds and kills the most pythons in each of the categories: professionals and amateurs. And Galan would love to earn that money to celebrate the arrival of Jesus, his newborn baby.
– ‘An Incredible Predator’ –
Burmese pythons, originally introduced to the United States as pets, have become a threat to the Everglades since humans released them to the area in the late 1970s.
This invasive snake has no natural predators and feeds on other reptiles, birds, and mammals such as raccoons and white-tailed deer.
“They’re an incredible predator,” Galan says admiringly.
Specimens found in the Everglades average between 6 and 9 feet long, but finding them in the 1400,000-acre wetland at night is like looking for a needle in a haystack.
Galan has a trained eye, as well as the patience and courage required for this job.
After two unsuccessful nights, he spots a shadow on the shoulder of Highway 41, which runs east-west through the Everglades.
Within seconds he jumps out of the truck, runs and pounces on the animal, a young Burmese python. He grabs her behind the head to avoid her bite and gives her a satisfied look before putting her in a cloth bag which he ties with a knot. He will kill her with a BB gun hours later.
A few kilometers away, a giant python slithers across the asphalt. Galan falls out of his vehicle, but this time the snake escapes him and disappears into the grass, leaving behind a strong musky scent, a defense mechanism.
– “In peace” –
Galan undertook brief online training prior to hunting pythons, but says he learned everything he knows about it from Tom Rahill.
This 65-year-old man founded the Swamp Apes Association 15 years ago to help war veterans process their traumatic memories through an original activity: python hunting.
Rahm Levinson, an American veteran of the Iraq War, spends a few hours searching for snakes with Rahill and Galan, two of the association’s few non-military members.
“It helped me get through a lot at home,” says the 41-year-old former soldier who suffers from post-traumatic stress. “I can’t sleep and having someone to go out with at midnight or 2am to hunt pythons is productive and good.”
Galan agrees with the calming effect of this activity. “Sometimes when my feet are knee-deep in the swamp, I feel very peaceful,” he says.
The hunter is also proud to be part of a campaign that has eliminated more than 17,000 pythons while spending hours in the wild since 2000.
“One of the best things I get from it is the amount of beauty that surrounds me,” he says. “If you look closely, open your eyes and observe, you will see a lot of magic here.”
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