Snake charming

On the hottest day of the year, we attended a party at London Zoo. Nobody was looking their best. The gorillas prostrate. The camels running on empty.

We headed for the reptile house. No respite there from the heat either. The snakes were in no mood for company. Not a slither behind the glass divide.

A different story back home. Stuck fast in the strawberry netting was a five-foot grass snake. I fetched my barber’s scissors, put on my garden gloves and set to work.

Not for the first time. The trick is to start at the tail and work up the body, snipping all the tight plastic binds until the snake is finally freed.

Soothed by Parseltongue, the snake did not move a muscle. I always fancy we have a shared understanding of what is taking place.

Japan’s mamushi rarely receive the same consideration. The country’s only venomous snake, this pit adder receives short shrift. Summary dispatch, or worse.

A friend once described being encouraged to drink a glass of mamushi-zake. The snake is pickled live in a sake bottle, slowly releasing its toxins. It’s a traditional libido pick-me-up.

After downing his tipple, he described a vile smell emanating from all his pores. Hardly cuddle enticing.

As a child my wife remembers eating mamushi grilled by an elderly aunt. The same aunt was later hospitalised after a snake bite. The biter bit.

Freed, my grass snake slithered off. The envy, I imagine, of its London cousins.