Lazarus, the Sinaloan Milksnake
Reptiles Magazine
Living With Reptiles
Volume 6 Number 3
March 1998

        My name is Brian Gundy. The story I'm about to relate is true. My partner, Mike Austin, and I are a team of snake breeders located in the San Jose area of California. We have been subscribers to REPTILES magazine for years, have never read about anything like this and thought REPTILES readers would find this story interesting.

         A family with two small children moved in across the street, and it didn't take long for them to find out that I had snakes. On March 24, 1997, Allison and her two children came over for a tour of my snake collection.

         I was showing them my colubrids when Allison noticed two snakes together in the same cage. I immediately panicked when I realized the Plexiglas partition that separated one of the California Kingsnakes had fallen over, allowing the Sinaloan Milksnake to enter the kingsnake's cage.

         My worst fears were realized when I quickly opened the cage door to find the Sinaloan Milksnake halfway down the throat of the California Kingsnake. A very sick feeling came over me as I removed the two snakes from the cage. Not only was I sick about the loss of the Sinaloan, but was also concerned for my neighbor's 4-year-old daughter and her 7-year-old son. Just minutes before, they had touched a snake for the first time, and now they were watching one being eaten alive.

        I quickly, but calmly, picked up the two snakes and tried to loosen the grip the California Kinsnake had on the Sinaloan Milksnake. I gently opened the kingsnake's mouth and began to slowly remove the 10 to 12 inches of the Sinaloan Milksnake from its throat.

         The Sinaloan showed no signs of life. Its mouth was wide open and its body was limp. Sweat started dripping down my face, and I apologized to my neighbors for having to witness this tragic event.

         I had worked at an animal hospital for nine years and have had CPR classes. I thought I should at least try to revive the snake. I first laid it down on the floor to see if there was any movement at all, but there was none. I then took the Sinaloan and put its head in the palm of my hand. I wrapped my fingers around its head, brought it to my mouth and gave three short breaths into the snake's mouth. Then I ran my hand from the front to the back in the area of the lungs and then gave more breaths. I continued this procedure for approximately 3-4 minutes without any reaction from the snake.

         My neighbors watched with great interest as I tried to revive the snake. At one point during the rescue, I considered putting the Sinaloan back in with the California Kingsnake's cage. After all, it was a good meal. But I stuck with it.

         Five to 7 minutes went by before I saw any positive reaction. I laid the snake on a flat surface and saw slight movement, almost like a spasm. A few minutes later, I saw the snake trying to stick its tongue out. I remember coaching the snake, "Come on buddy, you can do it."

         It was interesting to see my neighbors cheering the snake on as well. I was about 10 minutes into the rescue when things started happening. The snake continued trying to stick its tongue out and he would eventually bring it back in. I found that if I pinched its head, it would move its head back. So I stopped giving it mouth to mouth and concentrated on stimulating movement.

         My neighbor was so impressed with the whole experience that she told her kids that they had just witnessed a miracle.

         The snake came back to 100% of its vitality within a couple of hours. I called my partner and told him what had happened. "Brian, only you would consider giving a snake mouth-to-mouth," he said. Mike also suggested that we call this snake Lazarus. Lazarus ate a mouse the day after the incident and is doing fine.