Enough is enough. Capt. Jeff Fobb has had it with these mother-lovin' snakes in this mother-lovin' swamp!

Fobb works for Miami-Dade Fire Rescue as a venom response officer. When someone reports a poisonous or otherwise-scary snake, it's his job to go get it.

In his spare time, he likes to hike through the Florida Everglades and do it for free.

Fobb says he's been this way since he was a kid. For 30 of his 43 years he has intentionally sought to make contact with especially cantankerous snakes, even vacationing in Central and South America and Asia to get up close and personal with some of the world's most feared -- and fearsome -- critters. He's one of just seven snake hunters authorized by the State of Florida to help clear up an invasion of thousands of non-native Burmese pythons that threatens the balance of the Everglades.

"Snakes bite me all the time," Capt. Fobb says. "They're trying to get me not to pick them up. You learn that, when they're 10 to 11 feet long, you don't pull away when they bite ... If you can just kind of hold still while they decide you're not something to eat, you're OK."

Keep reading to find out how Fobb gets the job done.




As Many As 100,000 Pythons in the Swamp
In 1979, wildlife officials were surprised to find a Burmese python -- a constrictor that can grow up to 20 feet long and weigh 200 pounds -- living in the 1.5-million-acre Everglades National Park. In the intervening three decades, they've found a few more: Best estimates put the park's present python population between 30,000–100,000.

No one knows where the snakes came from. Maybe a traveling carnival went broke and turned a couple loose. Maybe terrified pet owners dumped their once-cute charges in the swamp. Maybe a group of pythons in Burma saved their pennies for a charter vacation and never returned. It doesn't matter -- they're there.

Capt. Fobb and a whole lot of other people want them gone.

Pythons Have No Natural Predators in the 'Glades
The swamp is a perfect home for the Burmese python. The habitat is genetically familiar and there's plenty to eat -- including loads of tasty endangered species.

According to Dr. Kenneth L. Krysko, a top herpetologist at the University of Florida, "They will continue reproducing, expanding their range and consuming every appropriately sized animal they encounter."

So what's the game plan for restoring balance to the Everglades?

"Constant removal of each python encountered and trying to determine other techniques to use to capture them," Dr. Krysko says. So the best way to get those mother-lovin' snakes out of that mother-lovin' swamp is to go in and drag 'em out, one by one.

Into the Swamp!
At least once a week, Capt. Fobb loads a backpack, jumps in his truck, and heads for the mammoth swamp. Sometimes he goes at night, trekking four or five hours through the muck. Sometimes he takes his 11- and 21-year-old daughters. He is not afraid. Neither are the girls.

"I've never been attacked by an animal," Fobb says. "The thing I'm worried about is encountering other people. Perhaps they're like me -- or maybe they're up to no good. Maybe they're trying to get as far away from something as they can."



The gear is simple. A head lamp, shorts, comfortable clothes, "a pair of shoes I'm willing to get really wet and dirty," a backpack carrying a GPS unit, a camera, bags to carry out snakes ... and "a really sharp knife to make it as clean and painless as I can make it," Capt. Fobb says.

He selects an area of the swamp, drives as far in as he can, then sets out on foot, trekking 10 miles in a night. "I find it easier, you're traveling slow, it's good exercise," Fobb says. "Problem is, if you catch one, carrying him back to the truck."

That happens about every third trip. Once Fobb bagged four pythons in a single evening. Most of the snakes he catches are on the move. Camouflaged by nature, the Burmese python practically disappears into the jungle when still. "You can walk right by an animal that is 6 or 7 feet long. They can hide right there in the grass, and you'll never see them. You're fighting against millions of years of evolution."

The Secret Is to "Wear 'Em Out"
Some Capt. Fobb wannabes found that out earlier this year. Since 2000, 1,496 pythons have been removed from the Everglades. In an effort to step up the pace, the Florida Wildlife Commission held a snake-hunting class earlier this year, then turned the ersatz Fobbs loose in the swamp for a six-week python purge. The yield from the ballcap-and-beer contingent's efforts? Exactly zero.

The trick, Fobb says, is to "wear 'em out. I can sustain activity far longer than that animal can. They take a couple of lunges, they expend themselves, and then they kind of exhaust themselves. They're ambush predators. They sit and wait and squeeze."

Until this year, the state required that Fobb and other hunters euthanize the snakes where they're found. Decapitation followed by pithing -- scrambling the brain with a metal rod designed specifically for that purpose -- was the prescribed method. Now, Fobb has the option of bringing out live specimens for research purposes, which makes him very happy.

A Soft Spot for Underdogs
Fobb realizes people may think he's cruel, or heartless. Actually, he says, "I'm pretty much the antithesis of that guy. I don't want to kill those particular animals. I have a deep-seated fascination with snakes. I have a soft spot for animals that are underdogs, that are bullied. I think a lot of that is ignorance."

But as much as he loves snakes, Capt. Fobb loves the Everglades even more.

"I appreciate the Everglades for what they are. I just don't like to see some of the degradation that's taken place over the past 20 to 30 years. I'm there for the snakes -- but we don't need to keep 'em there ... We need to do what we can to limit their impact and the best way to do that is to remove the animal. One is probably too many in the grand scheme of things."