Some weeks are quiet. Some weeks are… well, like this one.

Five cobras in five days. If I add the Russell’s viper to the mix, that’s six rescues in six days. It’s been intense. And while I feel confident after over 250 rescues, I still haven’t figured out how to put into words the emotional toll of back-to-back calls.

Each rescue is different. The species, the situation, the people involved—all variables that make sure no two rescues ever feel the same. Rescuing snakes isn’t just about knowing how to handle them; it’s about reading the moment. The fear in people around you. The unpredictability of the snake’s reaction. The balance between urgency and patience. Every call means stepping into a situation that demands calmness, quick thinking, and a whole lot of trust in my instincts.

But what I don’t often talk about is what happens after. The exhaustion. The mental load of repeatedly shifting gears from normal life to full rescue mode. The unspoken weight of handling creatures that most people fear—and ensuring both the snake and the people remain unharmed. It’s draining in a way I can’t fully articulate.

Every rescue is a chance to shift the narrative around these misunderstood creatures. To remind people that snakes aren’t villains in our stories—they’re just trying to survive in a world that keeps shrinking around them.

And maybe, in the process, I’ll figure out how to put into words what these rescues take out of me.

For the first time, I have added a narrative to each of these five rescues so that you can get a little more detail of what really went into every single one. Do share/ comment if you found this useful.