Snake in the Grass. Larry Perez

now proliferating in the Everglades were the latest example of a familiar cycle: impulse buys leading ultimately to accidental or intentional release.

      In their defense, however, reptile enthusiasts and hobbyists adamantly refused to shoulder blame as a whole. Instead, many recognized that a small subset of irresponsible and inexperienced keepers could be found among them. If the pythons proliferating in the Everglades truly originated from the pet trade, it was not the fault of the overwhelming majority of diligent owners, but rather resulted from the negligent few who failed to provide proper enclosures, found themselves unprepared for the demands of ownership, or were simply too uninformed to know any better. Rather than malign an entire community of responsible reptile enthusiasts, they argued, energies would be better focused on better educating and regulating the irresponsible few.

      But the irresponsible few remained difficult to find. Because people never believe themselves to be negligent keepers, no one ever stepped forward to volunteer their ineptitude or subject themselves to more stringent oversight. Nor did anyone ever plead mea culpa to the irresponsible handling of exotic wildlife. But even those who might have recognized some personal failure could still publicly divest themselves of any involvement in the growing python problem. Instead, they could clear their conscience by appealing to another popular scapegoat—the winds of Hurricane Andrew.

      A Category 5 cyclone, Andrew dealt an infamously harsh blow to south Florida, culminating in the costliest natural disaster of its time. With peak winds of 165 miles an hour, the storm brutally punished communities in southern Miami-Dade County—flattening entire housing developments, snapping telephone poles and power lines, obliterating Homestead Air Force Base, and causing damage to Turkey Point Nuclear Power Plant. Andrew’s winds also hurled a seventeen-foot surge of water inland, leaving roads, yards, and trees littered with an incongruent placement of boats, traps, floats, and other flotsam. In its wake, the storm left behind over one billion dollars of losses in agriculture, and a totality of devastation that was difficult for victims to fully grapple with.

      It is known that Hurricane Andrew was also responsible for the release of many captive animals from zoos, research facilities, and private collections in south Florida. Reports abound regarding the storm’s role in the appearance of rhesus monkeys, sacred ibis, Asian swamp hens, lionfish, and other species not formerly known to persist in the wild. One of the innumerable casualties reported in Andrew’s aftermath was a nascent reptile wholesaling business nestled on the outskirts of the Everglades in the then-rural town of Homestead. Housed in a flimsy former agricultural grow house, the facility was flattened during the storm, reportedly sending its thousands of cold-blooded occupants—including hundreds of baby Burmese pythons—into the howling atmosphere. Launched deep into the Everglades, it is believed by many that some of the snakes not only managed to survive the ordeal, but would go on to become the true progenitors of today’s problem population.

      The “dispersal-by-tropical-cyclone” theory has been espoused by some and disputed by others. Contrary to the commonly accepted belief that today’s feral population is the result of numerous intentional or accidental releases over the years, genetic studies of populations recovered from the wilds of south Florida have revealed a close kinship among the animals. Those wanting to lay blame upon the furious winds of Andrew suggest these findings, coupled with known patterns of past importation, are in keeping with a single, large-scale release. Critics of this hypothesis, however, note that genetic similarity might only suggest a similarity of stock imported over time for trade. Furthermore, the remote outpost of Flamingo, from whence the population appears to have radiated, lies impossibly far from the former site of the reptile breeding facility. Had the storm resulted in a catastrophic release of individuals, how did they only find themselves in a remote expanse of tangled mangrove swamp over 40 miles away?

      The debate over how Burmese pythons were introduced into the Everglades has led some observers unnecessarily into the weeds. In truth, documented encounters with large constrictors on the loose in Everglades National Park and elsewhere—including Burmese pythons—long predate the arrival of Hurricane Andrew. Irresponsible keepers had most certainly been implicated in the escape of snakes in the past. And yet, it was also entirely plausible that hurricanes and tropical storms could aid the release of far more. Numerous foreign species were documented to be running wild around south Florida in the still aftermath of Andrew. Reasonable minds could easily entertain the notion that the current problem unfolding in the Everglades could equally well be the result of accidental releases over time, a consequence of natural disaster, or some combination thereof. And to many, the argument was moot. Regardless of whether they were intentional or accidental, releases were occurring. And either by the hands of middlemen or end consumers, large constrictors bought and sold as personal pets were somehow making their way into one of North America’s most threatened habitats. The finer details regarding how they were introduced would never be known with certainty, but in truth, they weren’t all that important.

      The convoluted arguments, allegations, and theories regarding how these reptiles had taken a foothold in the River of Grass provided a convenient distraction from considering broader, more important, questions. Finger pointing provided an effective schoolyard tactic for evading basic questions about why pythons are imported in the first place. Attempts to assign blame or critique efforts to eradicate the current population provided an ample rug beneath which to sweep larger, more complex issues of regulation, enforcement, and ethics. And for some, aggressive posturing provided an effective diversion from yet another important consideration—how efficiently the snakes were ravaging south Florida’s native inhabitants.