Over many years, as a youngster, I voluntarily relocated nuisance snakes from people's properties. I made it my mission to help these poor unfortunate snakes with their people problems and, I guess, I helped a few very distressed people out along the way.
For a young, struggling herpetologist fascinated by venomous snakes, reptile relocation was a free pass to handling large venomous snakes on an almost daily basis. On more than one occasion, after particularly busy periods where I had enough time to catch but not enough time to release, my bedroom would be a seething, writhing mass of pillow cases full of some of the world's deadliest. I was like a kid in a candy shop; a candy shop no-one else really wanted to visit.
It was an amazing time for me. I might as well have worn my undies on the outside as I often felt like a super hero rescuing suburbanites from the insurgence of the serpent. I would arrive on my fully 'bombed' Ducati 900SS clad in a leather jacket and Doctor Martin boots. I would draw my snake hook from the back of my jacket with as much aplomb as Katniss Everdeen draws her arrows from her quiver. The Duc had the baffles drilled out of the exhaust so you can only imagine the symphony that marked my arrival.
Two things were consistent in all of the relocations I did: the messiest house in the street was the one that had the snake and the snake was always about half of the size that the panicked resident had estimated it to be. I can understand this. Fear and the fact that snakes are often on the move makes it very hard to estimate size. If they are not on the move they are typically coiled up half hidden, which makes estimating length even more difficult.
However, if you have a shed snake skin in your hand it is much easier to assess the length of the serpent that left it behind. Or is it? I thought I would take five minutes out of my day to just to quickly demonstrate how something as definitive as a snake skin still does not give Joe Average a true indication of snake body size.
You see, the skin of the actual snake comprises the scales and the interstitial skin, between the scales. To aid in water conservation the scales over lap each other by about 1/4. The scales have low permeability which means a low rate of water loss. The skin is much more permeable and is vulnerable to water loss through evapo-transpiration; like ours.
When a snake sheds its skin, the skin is turned inside out and the scales are separated by the interstitial skin. This actually means the skin is about 1/4 longer and wider than the snake is. Factor in a bit of stretching during sloughing and there you have it: The 2m long skin that you find in your hay shed belongs to a snake that is probably only 1.5m long. Feel better?
| That is Crystal and that is Crystal's most recent sloughed skin. |


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