7 September 14-20, 2023 miaminewtimes.com | browardpalmbeach.com New Times | Contents | Letters | news | night+Day | CuLture | Cafe | MusiC | Month XX–Month XX, 2008 miaminewtimes.com MIAMI NEW TIMES | CONTENTS | LETTERS | RIPTIDE | METRO | NIGHT+DAY | STAGE | ART | FILM | CAFE | MUSIC | guarantee a python capture — she never does. The night before, she had apprehended only a two-foot-long hatchling, which was still thrilling but far from the behemoth battle be- tween man and massive constrictor that her adrenaline-seeking clients usually crave. Though she’s captured a few “deer eaters” (snakes measuring upwards of 16 feet) in her time, most pythons she encounters range from six to nine feet in length. In the previous two weeks, Siewe had captured 31 snakes, but since the Florida Python Challenge started on August 4, she hasn’t had much luck. Siewe has a growing suspicion that the pythons could somehow sense the sudden cavalcade of nov- ice hunters lurching up and down Tamiami Trail for them. “This is just speculation, but I think they’re sensitive to the vibrations on the road,” she says. “There’s still so much we don’t know about wild pythons.” Scaling Up Her Business Unlike most humans who evolved with an in- nate fear of snakes, Siewe has always been drawn to them. As a kid, she’d roam around the creek in Ohio with her dad, catching fish, turn- ing over rocks for crawdads, and, if she were lucky, encountering a northern water snake, garter snake, ribbon snake, or her favorite, the black rat snake, which can grow to almost six feet long. In college, she volunteered at the To- ledo Zoo’s herpetology department and man- aged an exotic pet store. After going into real estate, she bred corn and rat snakes as a hobby, sometimes looking after more than 50 snakes at a time. But after learning about the invasive Burmese python problem in South Florida, Siewe knew she had to experience it for herself. “A rat snake is a very big snake there [in In- diana], but then you come here, and you’re just driving and have the opportunity to come across a 15-foot python,” she says. “That’s the Mack Daddy for a herper.” In January 2019, Siewe went on her first hunt with state contractor Donna Kalil and caught a nine-foot python that first night. Siewe was hooked and, within two months, she had left her real-estate business in Indi- ana and rented a small room with a shared bathroom in Miami. Siewe would go out nearly every night in her Toyota Camry, hunt- ing the Everglades for snakes, asking other hunters for advice, and honing her technique. By July 2019, she was hired by the FWC, earning an hourly wage and at least $50 for each snake she turned in. It was grueling, physical work that upended her diurnal life- style, but, Siewe says, it was her calling. “I’ve handled captive pythons, but they’re just big blobs, not these mean, aggressive wild pythons,” she says. “It’s a different ballgame, but I knew I’d be really good at this because I’m not scared of snakes. I used this crazy passion that I have to make a difference and help Florida with this colossal problem.” But the long nights, lack of sleep, and mea- ger paycheck didn’t make python hunting feasible, at least not long-term. After repeated requests from out-of-state travelers seeking to cross the “once-in-a-lifetime python hunt” off their bucket lists, Siewe decided to leave her state-contracted position to offer guided hunts instead. During the dry season from December to April, Siewe takes clients out on her fiance’s boat by day to capture breeding pythons on the spoil islands. During the wet season from May to November, they patrol the roads by night for pythons on the move, typically either crossing the road or slithering alongside it. “It was an incredible experience, and I don’t even like snakes,” says Laura Trent of Maryland, who went on a guided python hunt with Siewe earlier this month. Trent had wanted to plan a memorable trip for her husband’s 70th birthday with their two adult sons, and on the second night with Siewe, the family caught an eight-footer. “I wanted to do something other than go- ing out to a nice restaurant, something really special,” Trent says. “I understand eight-foot- two-inches is considered on the smaller side in the python world, but it really was such a rush of emotions for us. Now we want to go back and hopefully get one of those big girls that are 17 feet long.” With billionaires launching themselves into space and the farthest depths of the oceans, criticism of extreme travel is growing, but python hunting in the Florida Everglades remains immune: not only does it benefit the local environment, it also draws tourists to the state during the slower, off-season. “Seeing how it was an invasive species that was really devastating the native species in the Everglades definitely attracted us. We wanted to help out,” says Michael Asbury of Pennsylvania, who went on a guided hunt with Siewe in late July and caught a 12-footer. He’d been deer hunting plenty of times but had never caught a live animal before. “Let’s just say it’s not for the faint of heart. You’re really proving yourself with the cour- age to jump on a snake,” Asbury says. “There’s adrenaline flowing, and you want to get close enough to make that pounce but not too close, so the snake gets nervous and does a strike response.” Asbury has been back home for a month, but he’s already considering booking another hunt. “I can certainly see how it’s addictive,” he says. “I’m ready to go again.” Last-Minute Catch As the night wears on, the only snakes New Times encounters are the indigenous green water snakes that Siewe helps get across the road so they’re not inadvertently run over by the dozens of novice Python Challenge hunt- ers patrolling Tamiami Trail. After little luck encountering an invasive snake, Siewe makes the executive decision to leave Big Cypress National Preserve and the Python Challenge boundaries. If we caught a python, she ex- plains, it wouldn’t count toward the challenge. But Siewe already won the second-place prize for the longest snake during the 2020 Python Bowl. It’s not accolades that she’s seeking. “I love to see how excited people are when they catch a snake,” she says. “I don’t care how much you like snakes or how much you’re not afraid of them. It’s still a big snake, and people are afraid, and then they muster up the courage while I’m talking them through it. And they grab it, and just the looks on their faces — it’s just out of this world!” As we head west toward Naples on Tamiami Trail, Siewe sees it first. “Snake!” she hollers as she swings off the roll bar and closes in on the two-foot-long python hatch- ling slithering south across the road. She swiftly grabs the snake behind the neck and raises it triumphantly. “It ate at least once,” she says, shaking her head. After the photos are taken and the giddi- ness subsides, Siewe adheres to the FWC’s humane killing method, which calls for the constrictor to be immediately euthanized. She fires a bolt gun into its head and sticks a metal tool into the wound, pithing the snake and keeping it from regaining consciousness — a two-step process recommended by the American Veterinary Medical Association. Siewe doesn’t enjoy this part but under- stands that there are 100,000 to 300,000 py- thons roaming the Everglades, and she thinks of the marsh rabbits’ and white-tailed deer’s dwindling numbers. She does her best to sal- vage as much of the python as possible, tan- ning the hides and crafting the only Apple watch bands in the world that are made of in- vasive python skin. Once, she even delivered python meat to a Fort Myers chef who pre- pared python tacos and python lettuce wraps. “It was amazing,” she says, “but just so chewy.” [email protected] Amy Siewe does her best to salvage as much of the python as possible, tanning the hides and crafting Apple watch bands. Right: Siewe moved from Indiana to South Florida, lured by the invasive Burmese python. Photos by Dave Roberts
