As the Chinese Year of the Snake recently slithered to a close, it left behind a powerful reminder of our oldest contradiction. No other animal on Earth has managed to simultaneously evoke such visceral terror and such deep, reverent veneration. It remains our ultimate paradox: throughout history, snakes have been perceived as both healers and destroyers, a contradiction that reflects directly on modern conservation biology. In our current ecological crisis, this duality manifests in how we categorize them: we see native snakes as "good," fundamental predators essential for the balance of nature, while the "bad" ones are those invasive alien species that have a catastrophic impact on biodiversity and ecosystems.
In art, the dualism of snakes is frozen in Bernini’s Bust of Medusa,
where they symbolize both monstrous terror and the tragic beauty of transformation.
© Photo: Riccardo Scalera
Alien snakes are animals that humans, whether intentionally or not, have moved from their natural range to new territories. Here, in the absence of natural predators and thanks to an extraordinary ability to adapt to almost any prey, they transform into a silent threat capable of unbalancing entire ecosystems. The impact of these invasions is often devastating, generating what scientists call a 'cascade effect. In the Canary Islands, for instance, the introduction of the California kingsnake is driving endemic giant lizards (Gallotia) toward extinction; likewise, in Ibiza (Balearic Islands, Spain), the horseshoe whip snake (Hemorrhois hippocrepis) is pushing the endemic wall lizard (Podarcis pityusensis) to the brink. On the oceanic island of Guam (USA), the disappearance of birds due to the brown tree snake (Boiga irregularis) has even halted forest regeneration, as there are no longer animals to disperse seeds. Beyond environmental damage, we must not underestimate health risks: these reptiles can carry parasites and pathogens, such as Salmonella or exotic viruses, which are dangerous to both local wildlife and humans.
But how do these animals reach such distant lands? The entry routes, or pathways, are manifold and often surprising. To understand these pathways, we must first dispel persistent urban legends. For example, in Italy, a popular belief suggests that vipers are reintroduced by being released from helicopters in small boxes. This is a complete myth; conservation is never conducted through such haphazard or clandestine means. The actual mechanisms of introduction are far more practical and directly linked to human activities and behaviours. The pet trade is a primary channel: animals often escape or are abandoned by owners when they become too large or demanding. It is a cruel paradox: this misguided sense of compassion leads owners to release pets into the wild, unaware that they are essentially sentencing the individual to perish in an alien habitat or, conversely, sentencing native species to extinction. In either case, the act disrupts the ecological integrity we aim to protect. There are also unintentional pathways, such as the transport of goods and waste, including military equipment in the case of the brown tree snake, or even horticulture, where eggs and small snakes travel hidden within the root balls of olive or ornamental trees, overcoming otherwise insurmountable geographical barriers. Even history teaches us how humans have reshuffled nature: from the ancient Romans or Hannibal, who launched snakes as psychological weapons, to the monks who, around the Middle Ages, introduced vipers (Vipera aspis) to Monte Cristo (Tuscan archipelago, Italy) for therapeutic purposes.
Managing this issue is one of the most complex challenges in conservation biology. The strategy must be based on three pillars: prevention, early detection and rapid eradication, and management (eradication, control, or containment). Prevention remains our most effective weapon. Through the tools of horizon scanning and risk assessment, scientists evaluate the danger of species not yet present to inform policymakers. This allows the most high-risk species to be flagged and potentially included in blacklists, which allow for action to be taken. The European Union's Regulation on invasive alien species, for example, is based on a list of "species of Union concern," which allows for the blocking of their keeping and trade before the damage is done. The kingsnake, Lampropeltis getula, is the first and only snake listed so far.
 |
| The identification cards of Lampropeltis getula made by the European Commission for customs |
To support these efforts, the scientific community is more active than ever. By working at the science-policy interface, experts are collaborating with the European Commission to produce tools not only to inform policymakers but also wildlife managers. For example, in 2020, an international workshop was organized, gathering the world's leading experts led by IUCN to share best practices. This collaboration resulted in a comprehensive report on the management of invasive alien snakes, now officially available online through the European Commission, which serves as a global roadmap for tackling these invasions. Other tools were also developed to increase awareness, such as guidance for surveillance and relevant case studies, identification guides, cards, and posters specifically for kingsnakes. These show similar species in trade for customs officers, along with similar species occurring in the field for wildlife managers. The listing of the kingsnake also allowed for action to be taken, resulting in several propagules being removed in countries like Germany, Denmark, and Ireland, as documented by the NOTSYS platform managed by the Joint Research Centre.
 |
| The report of the European Commission on the management of invasive alien snakes |
However, if prevention fails, eradication becomes a race against time that is almost impossible to win. Snakes are masters of elusion: they live underground, in trees, or move under the cover of night, and their young are virtually invisible. We must be honest: snakes are nearly impossible to manage once introduced, as current techniques are not sufficiently effective. Thus, when total removal is no longer feasible, the only options left are numerical control to reduce predatory pressure or the creation of "sanctuaries", fenced and protected areas where snakes are excluded to save species on the brink of extinction.
This presents us with a profound ethical dilemma: the removal of an alien individual is not an act of hate, but a necessary choice to protect the right to survival of an entire native species. Ultimately, the responsibility is ours. The primary challenge is not merely to remove and manage invasive alien snakes, but to change human behavior. We must ensure that the importance of keeping snakes in their own ecosystem and not moving them beyond their natural range is recognized as key to respecting the boundaries that evolution has drawn over millions of years.
