Yellow Amazon Tree boas were only occasionally seen on Madre Selva Preserve.

One of the first snake species that I saw at Madre Selva Biological Preserve was coiled high in the rafters of the old kitchen building. From my vantage point the snake appeared to be clad entirely in scales of “old rafter brown.” Tree Boa? Amazon Tree Boa? Could it really be? Could I be that lucky? Segundo, having been summoned, clambered up to the rafters, grasped the snake (that reacted in typical tree boa style) and was soundly bitten during his one-handed decent. He then handed the irate snake to me.

Since that first sighting, I’ve seen many Amazon Tree Boas, Corallus hortulanus, many of various shades of brown, some being brown and orange, other being yellow, and a few being a beautiful blood red. Some I caught, some Segundo caught, others by other of our guides. But somehow, somewhere during the photographing sessions, almost all of the snakes retaliated for having been disturbed and immortalized in a “toothsome” manner. Any of you who have kept these interesting boas will understand why I tell the participants on our herp tours, “Amazon Tree Boas just don’t play nice.”

But that has never dissuaded our tour groups or me from seeking the arboreal gems. Besides in the open-air buildings, we have found tree boas high in trees, others were dangling by their strongly prehensile tail, boa face at human face level, from vines that crisscross above our trails (if not noticed these could have resulted in a real “ouch encounter”). Others have been just coiled quietly atop stumps. On one trip, one of the dangling boas, a yellow example (pictured here) was seen on four of the six nights that we were at the preserve.

The tree boas found have varied in length from 18 inch juvies to 4 to 5 foot long adults.

Broad-headed Skings were common in Okeetee. This male has assumed his seasonal breeding colors.
I don’t know how Gordy knew where we were but he did. The roadsign we had just passed informed us that Ridgeland was 20 miles ahead. And Ridgeland, in the state of South Carolina’s “Low Country,” was our goal.

This was way back in the mid-1950s and I was as “wound-up” as a young herper could be. I was an eager and avid herper, birder, and “everything-elser.” In other words, except for humans if it breathed, I wanted to learn about it, and herps were at the top of the list. And somewhere near Ridgeland there was a special place that Gordy had heard about---Okeetee Hunt Club. This was and is a 50,000 acre plot of land that came into being way back in 1894. Today it is fenced and patrolled and only members are allowed to enter. But back in the mid-1900s, back before today’s market hunters and the tendency to litigate every bruise or sprained ankle, anyone who wished could enter, and I was one of the lucky ones.

Besides being a refuge and gathering place for arms-bearing hunters, Okeetee was Mecca to a host of herpers. It was one of Karl Kauffeld’s favorite places and it quickly became one of Gordy’s and mine. And when you added on the several other nearby hunt clubs and preserves, the area became unbeatable. Corn snakes were common, as were Eastern Kingsnakes, Scarlet Kings, Hognoses, Eastern Diamondbacks and Canebrakes. Pine snakes were not uncommon; Broad-headed Skinks were abundant. Chorus Frogs ratcheted from nearby canal edges, Bird-voiced, Cope’s Gray, Barking and Green Treefrogs called from the Great Swamp. Oh, and did I mention that we often found Mud and Rainbow Snakes, and Red-bellied Water Snakes. The list goes on and on.

I’m glad that I actually got to experience those times now long gone. I wish the herpers of today, well.