When I started rescuing snakes in February 2022, I didn’t imagine I’d one day be staring at a spreadsheet of 334 encounters. Each rescue tells a small story of coexistence, of panic turning into patience, of myths being replaced by understanding, and of creatures simply trying to survive our expanding footprint.
Across these 334 rescues, I’ve met 14 different species. Some are regulars – practically neighbours – while others made rare guest appearances that added colour (and adrenaline) to the logbook.
Here’s how the numbers stack up.
Species Summary (Feb 2022 – Oct 2025)
| Species | Count | Notes |
| Spectacled Cobra | 140 | The undisputed chart-topper. Equally feared and admired, these snakes have adapted remarkably to semi-urban habitats. They often turn up in basements, lawns, and even factory premises – sometimes in glue traps. Despite their reputation, most Cobras are more defensive than aggressive, preferring to warn than to strike. |
| Rat Snake | 47 | The great impostor. Often mistaken for Cobras because of their size and hood-like posture when threatened. Non-venomous, fast, and surprisingly strong swimmers. Many rescues involve them entering homes while chasing prey – a frog, a bird chick, or sometimes just curiosity. |
| Russell’s Viper | 38 | Compact, heavy-bodied, and one of India’s “big four.” Quick to hiss and coil, but rarely strikes unless cornered. Their presence in farmlands and new construction sites shows how closely we’ve encroached on their territory. A species that commands both respect and caution. |
| Checkered Keelback | 35 | Semi-aquatic and mild-mannered, often turning up near tanks or rainwater collection pits. |
| Anamalai Wolf Snake | 22 | Small, beautifully banded mimic of Kraits that startles more than it bites. |
| Trinket Snake | 13 | The underrated beauty of the list – slender, patterned, and surprisingly fast. |
| Striped Keelback | 18 | Grouping both variants shows they’re quietly making their presence felt around wetlands and storm drains. |
| Banded Kukri Snake | 8 | Harmless, nocturnal, and fond of frog eggs – rarely seen unless disturbed. |
| Common Krait | 5 | Thankfully rare, given its potency. Mostly late-night calls. |
| Green Vine Snake | 4 | The “Judgmental Shoelace.” Elegant, expressive, and oddly photogenic. |
| Indian Wolf Snake | 2 | Harmless, sometimes mistaken for Kraits due to its banding. |
| Indian Rock Python | 1 | A majestic first – and a heavy one. My longest rescue yet. |
| Elliot’s Shieldtail | 1 | The rarest in the list. A burrower that rarely surfaces. |
Total: 334 rescues across 14 species.
Making Sense of the Numbers
At first glance, the 183 venomous and 151 non-venomous rescues look almost balanced. But that number hides an important truth: we don’t rescue non-venomous snakes unless absolutely necessary.
That means each of those 151 cases involved genuine risk, a trapped snake, a public panic, or an environment where leaving it undisturbed wasn’t an option. This also implies that the actual population of non-venomous snakes around us is far higher. They quietly go about their ecological business – rodent control, soil aeration, insect regulation, without ever making the news or a rescue log.
In contrast, the venomous species, particularly Cobras and Vipers, make their presence felt more visibly and dramatically. They demand response, not because they seek attention, but because their proximity to humans sparks fear.
My Big Four
- Spectacled Cobra (140 rescues)
The most iconic snake of India – both revered and reviled. Known for its hood display, it’s actually one of the most misunderstood. Most Cobras I’ve handled were simply cornered, scared, and defensive. Their intelligence is evident in how they size up threats before reacting. The fact that they thrive even in semi-urban zones like ours says as much about their adaptability as it does about our sprawling footprints. - Rat Snake (47 rescues)
Agile, fast, and often over-dramatised. Their appearance triggers panic largely because they mimic Cobras when threatened, a clever evolutionary ploy. They’re harmless and play a major role in keeping rodent populations under control. Ironically, I end up rescuing them not from danger, but from people. - Russell’s Viper (38 rescues)
A study in contradictions, sluggish by day, alert by night, beautiful yet dangerous. Their hiss is unmistakable, a long, angry “tsk” that can stop anyone in their tracks. They’re ground-dwellers, and most encounters happen around open drains, farms, and new construction zones, areas that used to be grassland or scrub before we paved them. - Checkered Keelback (35 Rescues)
They’re the amphibians’ nemesis and a photographer’s delight. Usually found near water, these snakes are curious, harmless, and often the most cooperative subjects during releases. Unfortunately, their checkered pattern and tendency to flatten their neck make people mistake them for Cobras, a costly misidentification that often ends badly for the snake.
Changing How We Look at Rescues
One of the biggest misconceptions about snake rescues is that every sighting warrants one. It doesn’t.
If you see a snake moving along a wall, across a garden, or disappearing into the bushes, that’s not an emergency; that’s ecology in action.
Rescues should be for snakes that are trapped, injured, or in active conflict with humans. The rest simply need space, not intervention. Learning to coexist doesn’t mean tolerating danger; it means understanding context.
There’s another side to “let it be” that’s often missed. When we say we’ll leave a non-venomous snake alone, it shouldn’t translate to handling it ourselves. Asking your gardener or security staff to “move it away” might feel harmless, but to the snake, it’s almost always fatal. Their fragile physiology means even a firm grip or rough handling can cause internal bleeding, scale damage, or spinal injury, deaths that rarely get counted as such.
So if you spot a snake and it’s not posing a threat, observe from a distance, keep pets and people away, and just let it pass. That’s the most humane thing you can do.
The Toll Behind the Calls
Behind every “successful rescue” photo lies a far less visible reality.
Rescuers often juggle day jobs, family time, and late-night drives. We leave dinner tables halfway, step out of meetings, and occasionally race through traffic to reach a frightened caller, only to find the snake has already slithered away.
It’s physically tiring and emotionally draining, but we keep doing it because every life counts, reptilian or human.
So, this is not just a call for awareness. It’s a call for consideration, for nature, and for those relentlessly working to bridge the gap between fear and understanding. The more people learn to tell the difference between presence and threat, the fewer rescues will be needed. And that’s the real victory.
