ea snakes are not supposed to inhabit the Gulf of Mexico.
That simple fact is what makes a series of reports I have collected over the years so intriguing.
The story began when a man I know who breeds snakes came to my office to bring me a kingsnake. While there, he noticed a photograph of a banded sea krait on my wall and made a statement that immediately got my attention.
He said he had seen one.
He described kayaking to an offshore rig near High Island, Texas, where he encountered what he believed was a banded sea krait swimming around the structure. He described a four- to five-foot animal with distinctive banding and a paddle-like tail.
This wasn’t proof that a sea krait had somehow reached Texas waters, but the report was difficult for me to simply dismiss. The witness was familiar with snakes and believed he recognized what he had encountered.
More importantly, his story reminded me of another report.
Two anglers I know had encountered a long, bluish-white and black-striped snake swimming at the surface near the 18-Mile Light on Sabine Bank. They estimated the animal at around five feet long and also specifically described a paddle-like tail.
The two encounters occurred in the same general region of the northwestern Gulf.
Since then, I have received other reports from along the Gulf Coast, including Alabama and Florida. Some may have fairly conventional explanations. Native snakes and remarkably snake-like marine fishes such as eels have to be considered.
But the reports raise an interesting wildlife question.
If an exotic marine snake ever did appear in Gulf waters, how could it get here?
International shipping and the movement of marine organisms through ballast water have transported nonnative species around the world. Whether that could explain any of these particular observations is another question entirely, but it is one of the possibilities I examine in my new video.
“Venomous Sea Snakes in the Gulf? Investigating the Reports” looks at eyewitness testimony, sea snake biology, potential mistaken identities and possible pathways for an exotic animal to reach Gulf waters.
I am not claiming sea snakes have been confirmed in the Gulf of Mexico. They haven’t.
But when multiple people report unusual animals, I believe the right response is neither automatic belief nor automatic dismissal.
It’s investigation.
Chester Moore
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Chester’s birthday is here, and if you know my husband, you know there aren’t many things that mean more to him than giving kids special opportunities through wildlife.
This year, Chester has set a goal of raising $1,500 for our Wild Wishes® program.
You can help Chester reach his birthday goal and make more Wild Wishes come true here:
We had a couple of issues getting the Facebook birthday fundraiser to work correctly, so we decided to set up a direct fundraiser where people can give toward the program.
Chester and I have been blessed to see firsthand what these experiences can mean to kids facing serious challenges. We’ve watched children encounter amazing wildlife, visit places they dreamed about and make memories with their families that will last a lifetime.
That’s what Wild Wishes is all about.
I think helping us create more of those opportunities would be a pretty great birthday present for Chester.
If Chester’s work has encouraged you over the years, or if you simply believe in what we’re doing for these kids, I’d love for you to consider making a donation. Whether it’s $10, $25, $50 or more, it all helps us move toward that $1,500 goal and toward the next Wild Wish.
And if you can’t give right now, sharing this with your friends would mean a lot to us too.
Thank you to everyone who has prayed for, encouraged and supported Chester and our work with these kids over the years.
At Higher Calling Wildlife, we believe conservation starts with education. The more we understand God’s creation, the more we appreciate it—and the more likely we are to protect it.
That’s why we’re proud to support Sharks Aren’t So Scary, a public education campaign presented by the Gulf Great White Shark Society.
The campaign launches with a fun public service announcement from horror host Count Drahoon, who reminds us that while scary movies are entertaining, real sharks deserve respect, understanding and conservation.
Throughout October we’ll be sharing stories that celebrate these remarkable animals and encourage people of all ages to replace fear with knowledge.
Be sure to follow the Gulf Great White Shark Society throughout the month for shark science, conservation news and the full Sharks Aren’t So Scary campaign, and watch Count Drahoon’s official kickoff PSA to get started.
We came to New England with great white sharks at the center of our plans, but we left with something much bigger.
Our Higher Calling Wildlife® expedition through New England opened doors for young people, created relationships with some incredible people in the shark world and established something we believe will continue for years to come.
Higher Calling Wildlife will be back.
We have now established New England as another region where we can conduct expeditions and outreach, connecting young people with wildlife and putting them face-to-face with people doing extraordinary work in research, conservation and education.
And what a first expedition it was.
My wife Lisa, daughter Faith and I began the journey by traveling into Maine and experiencing its rugged Atlantic coastline. For someone like me who has spent years studying and writing about great white sharks in the Gulf of Mexico, seeing the northern reaches of great white country was fascinating.
But the heart of this trip was outreach.
Marina Wilson joined us on Cape Cod as the first recipient of our Gulf Great White Shark Society scholarship. Marina has an interest in marine biology, wildlife law enforcement and shark conservation, and we wanted to do more than tell her to follow those dreams.
Chester, Marina and Dr. Megan Winton at AWSC’s Shark Center in Chatham on Cape Cod.
We wanted to put her around people who are actually doing the work.
That happened in a huge way.
We spent time with our friends at the Atlantic White Shark Conservancy and its Shark Center in Chatham, one of the most exciting places anywhere for people interested in great white sharks.
A major highlight was spending time with AWSC Chief Scientist Dr. Megan Winton. Megan has been a tremendous friend to our efforts, and giving Marina an opportunity to spend time around a scientist working directly with the animals she is so passionate about was exactly the kind of connection we hoped this expedition would provide.
We also had an incredible opportunity to visit Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, where Laura McDonnell gave us a look into the world of ocean science and research. Getting Marina and Faith inside a place with such a remarkable legacy of ocean exploration and discovery was another special part of the journey.
Then we got to spend time with Dr. Greg Skomal, one of the cutting-edge leaders in modern great white shark research.
Greg’s work has helped transform our understanding of great whites in the Northwest Atlantic, and getting an opportunity to talk sharks, research and conservation with him was tremendous. We even got to hold an incredible great white shark jaw during our visit.
Dr. Greg Skomal showing us key great white shark locations in the Cape Cod area.
Those are the kinds of moments that can take something a young person has read about, watched in documentaries or dreamed about and suddenly make it real.
Another special stop was the Living Sharks Museum in Westerly, Rhode Island, where founder and curator Keith Cowley gave us an incredible look at shark history and culture.
For me, seeing original pieces connected to Frank Mundus and his famous boat, the Cricket II, was especially fascinating. Mundus occupies a unique place in shark history, and standing in front of those artifacts while traveling through the same part of the country where so much of that history unfolded added another dimension to the expedition.
There was plenty of shark science, history and adventure packed into this trip.
But one of the most meaningful parts centered on a young Massachusetts boy named Hunter Fitz.
Hunter has already shown an extraordinary passion for sharks and conservation, including raising money to support the Atlantic White Shark Conservancy. We met Hunter and his family at the Shark Center and presented him with our Gulf Great White Shark Society Youth Award along with a special package of shark gifts we put together just for him.
Seeing his reaction made all the planning and effort worthwhile.
We called Hunter a world changer.
We meant it.
And our relationship with Hunter didn’t end when we handed him an award.
Hunter is now part of our program.
Chester presenting Hunter the Gulf Great White Shark Society Youth Award.
We’re excited about encouraging him, helping fuel his passion for sharks and conservation and hopefully providing him with some special wildlife experiences in the future.
That is what Higher Calling Wildlife is about.
Marina and Hunter came into this expedition from different places, but both illustrate what we’re trying to accomplish. We want to identify young people with a passion for wildlife, encourage them, give them experiences they might never otherwise have and put them around people who can show them what is possible.
Wildlife changed the direction of my life when I was young.
Now we have the opportunity to use it to impact another generation.
There will be much more coming at GulfGreatWhites.com about the shark side of our journey. I’ll be sharing more about the people we met, what we learned and the incredible story of great whites in this part of the Atlantic.
But Higher Calling Wildlife is what we do this through.
It’s how we take wildlife adventures, relationships and opportunities and turn them into something that can impact young people.
And none of it happens without people who believe in what we’re doing.
To everyone who donated toward this expedition, prayed for us, shared our fundraising efforts, encouraged us or helped behind the scenes, thank you.
You helped put Marina in front of scientists and conservationists doing the kind of work she dreams about doing.
You helped us put an award in Hunter’s hands, give him a special package of gifts and tell him that what he’s doing matters.
You helped us visit the Atlantic White Shark Conservancy and spend time with Dr. Megan Winton. You helped us get Marina and Faith inside Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution with Laura McDonnell. You helped us spend time with Dr. Greg Skomal and experience the Living Sharks Museum with Keith Cowley.
Most importantly, you helped us establish relationships that won’t end with this trip.
We plan to return to New England and build more Higher Calling Wildlife opportunities here.
Our mission is to use wildlife encounters and experiences to bring encouragement, hope and the love of Christ to young people. We want kids to experience the wonder of God’s creation, meet people doing great things and understand they can do great things themselves.
Sometimes that happens in the mountains of Wyoming.
Sometimes it happens along the Texas coast.
And now it happens in great white country.
Lisa, Faith and I came away incredibly grateful for Marina, Hunter and their families and for everyone who opened doors for us along the way.
We’re also deeply grateful for those of you who helped us get there.
When you support Higher Calling Wildlife, this is what you’re supporting.
You’re helping us open doors for kids, create experiences they will never forget and encourage young people to pursue their dreams and use their lives for something bigger than themselves.
This wasn’t just our expedition.
You were part of it.
And God willing, this was only the beginning of what Higher Calling Wildlife will do in New England.
Chester Moore
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A 725.8-pound hog taken in Southeast Texas has become one of the most talked-about wildlife stories I’ve covered recently.
Its incredible size immediately attracted attention, but then people began looking closely at something else. The huge animal was black and white, and viewers started asking whether a hog that looked like this and weighed more than 700 pounds was really feral.
The debate made me connect some dots I hadn’t connected before. For years, I’ve known about giant domestic hogs being released at different locations in this region.
My new video reveals that history and looks at how those releases could help us understand some of the enormous feral hogs roaming Southeast Texas—including why a 725.8-pound free-ranging hog can look very different from what people expect a feral hog to look like.
WATCH THE NEW VIDEO: Was That 725-Pound Texas Hog Really Feral?
There are some important distinctions to make. This hog was free-ranging when it was killed, and its weight wasn’t someone’s field estimate. The animal was photographed on a scale registering 725.8 pounds.
What we don’t know is the complete ancestry of this individual hog, and that’s an important difference.
Domestic swine can escape or be released and become feral. Over time, those animals and their descendants can reproduce with other free-ranging hogs, contributing to the tremendous variation in size, coloration and physical characteristics we see in feral hog populations.
So unusual domestic characteristics don’t automatically make a free-ranging animal somebody’s pet or a barnyard hog.
That’s where the history I’ve known about for years becomes especially interesting. Giant domestic hogs were released at different locations in this region over a long period of time. I can’t connect this particular animal to any specific release, and I’m not claiming I can.
But I can connect the dots enough to ask a bigger question: Could that history help explain some of the enormous and unusual-looking feral hogs roaming this part of Texas today?
That’s part of what I explore in the new video. The 725.8-pound hog is real. The documented weight is real. The animal was free-ranging, and the history of giant domestic hog releases in the region is real.
What we don’t know is exactly how all those pieces fit together.
And that’s what makes this story worth digging into.
Chester Moore
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For generations, wildlife conservation has centered on a straightforward idea: protect enough animals and enough habitat, and a species has a fighting chance. But what if part of the future of conservation takes place far away from the mountains, forests and grasslands where those animals live? What if some of the most important conservation work involves placing tiny pieces of animals into tanks of liquid nitrogen and keeping them there for decades?
A situation unfolding in New Zealand raises that question. Numbers of Mohaka sheep, a rare feral breed with a long history in the country, have declined to the point that conservationists are moving to preserve their genetics. The effort includes collecting and storing genetic material that could potentially be used in the future.
On the surface, this is a story about an unusual population of sheep. Look deeper, however, and it raises a much larger question: Could preserving cells, semen, eggs, embryos and other biological material become an increasingly important part of protecting rare breeds and endangered wildlife?
Saving Livestock?
Rare livestock breeds and isolated wildlife populations can carry genetic characteristics developed over many generations. Once those animals disappear, some of that genetic diversity can disappear with them.
This doesn’t mean every rare breed possesses some biological secret that will revolutionize agriculture or wildlife conservation. It does mean that once unique genetic material is lost, recovering it may be impossible. Semen and embryo banking are already established tools in livestock management, making the effort involving Mohaka sheep particularly interesting when viewed through the wider lens of conservation.
Saving living populations must remain the objective. Preserving their genetics, however, could provide another option if those populations crash or lose important genetic diversity along the way.
Wildlife conservationists have already been pursuing that idea for half a century.
The Frozen Zoo
Perhaps the greatest example can be found at the San Diego Zoo Wildlife Alliance.
In 1975, researchers established what became known as the Frozen Zoo®. Scientists began preserving living cells from wildlife even though they couldn’t possibly know what technologies might eventually make use of them.
Today the Frozen Zoo is part of the San Diego Zoo Wildlife Alliance’s Wildlife Biodiversity Bank. Its collection contains thousands of living cell lines representing more than 1,300 species and subspecies, with material maintained at approximately minus 320 degrees Fahrenheit. San Diego Zoo Wildlife Alliance Frozen Zoo
The significance isn’t simply how much material is stored. Some of those cells came from animals that died decades ago. In certain cases, genetic diversity represented by those individuals has subsequently disappeared or become poorly represented within the living population.
The animals are gone. The cells remain.
Scientists in 1975 couldn’t have predicted what conservationists would be capable of doing with those cells 50 years later. Likewise, nobody collecting biological material in 2026 can know what scientists might be capable of doing with it in 2075.
Genetic Insurance
The concept is sometimes described as genetic insurance, and there may be no better way to explain it. Cryopreservation cannot protect habitat, stop poaching, provide water during a drought or prevent a disease outbreak. Those conservation jobs still have to be done.
What it can potentially do is preserve options.
Small populations frequently experience genetic bottlenecks. Even if managers rebuild the number of animals, genetic diversity that disappeared during the decline doesn’t automatically return. Carefully preserved cells and reproductive material could provide future conservationists with opportunities that would otherwise be gone forever.
We already have examples showing that this isn’t purely theoretical.
Frozen Zoo material has contributed to cloning work involving endangered species, including black-footed ferrets and Przewalski’s horses. In those cases, the objective wasn’t simply to create another animal. Scientists were interested in genetics from individuals that were no longer represented, or were poorly represented, in the surviving population.
That changes the conversation considerably. Cryopreservation isn’t only about saving DNA so scientists can study an extinct animal someday. Viable cells, sperm, eggs and embryos may have potential applications that a DNA sequence stored in a computer does not.
What Should We Save Today?
This is where the Mohaka sheep story becomes much bigger than sheep.
By the time an endangered species reaches critically low numbers, a significant amount of its former genetic diversity may already be gone. That raises the question of whether biological banking should begin much earlier.
Wildlife managers routinely capture animals for research, disease testing, translocations and GPS collaring. Zoos, rehabilitation facilities and veterinarians regularly handle threatened and endangered wildlife. Could some of those encounters also become opportunities to preserve biological material for the future?
Photo by Chester Moore
San Diego Zoo Wildlife Alliance is thinking on an enormous scale. After the Frozen Zoo reached its 50th anniversary, the organization announced an ambitious goal of helping lead efforts to biobank endangered species around the world by 2075. Frozen Zoo 50th anniversary initiative
That doesn’t mean replacing animals on the landscape with samples in a freezer. Habitat protection, population management, disease research, migration corridors, translocations and traditional breeding programs remain essential. Cryopreservation could simply become another tool alongside them—an insurance policy against events and challenges we cannot predict.
And I do think it’s important to note we should not just slack off on boots on the ground conservation. That needs to be priority but this kind of technology needs to be looked at as well.
A Question for the Future
There is something remarkable about looking back at the scientists who began freezing wildlife cells in San Diego in 1975. They had no guarantee those cells would ever become useful, yet they preserved them anyway.
Half a century later, conservationists have technologies that would have been difficult to imagine when some of those samples entered storage. The same may be true of the biological material being preserved today.
That is what makes the declining Mohaka sheep worth watching. Their story raises a question that extends from rare livestock breeds to some of the world’s most endangered wildlife.
Perhaps the greatest value of a frozen cell isn’t what we can do with it today, but what someone may be able to do with it decades from now. When the conservationists of 2075 look back at the species struggling in our time, will they be grateful that we preserved those genetic options for them—or will they wonder why, when we still had the chance, we didn’t?
Chester Moore
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Wildlife has an incredible ability to surprise us.
And every once in a while, an animal comes along that makes you stop and take a second look.
This is one of those animals.
A Texas hunter recently killed an enormous free-ranging boar in Southeast Texas that weighed 725.8 pounds on a scale.
Watch the video below.
The black-and-white hog is so large—and has such unusual coloration—that some people seeing the photographs for the first time may wonder exactly what they’re looking at.
There’s some interesting wildlife biology behind that coloration.
According to Texas A&M AgriLife Extension, feral hogs can display a wide variety of colors and patterns. They can be black, brown, red, white, spotted or “belted.” AgriLife specifically notes that belted feral hogs can be black or brownish-red with a white band across the shoulders and forelimbs.
In other words, the dramatic black-and-white appearance of this animal is not something outside the documented color patterns of feral hogs.
I’ve encountered free-ranging hogs with similar coloration myself, although nothing approaching this animal’s tremendous size.
Texas A&M AgriLife also notes that the original breed and nutrition during development can influence a feral hog’s size and coloration. Texas’ feral hog history is complicated, with Eurasian wild boars introduced for hunting eventually breeding with free-ranging feral hogs already on the landscape.
That makes these animals an interesting study in adaptation, genetics and just how dramatically animals can vary within a population.
I’ve covered wildlife for decades, and this is the largest free-ranging feral hog I have personally seen documented on a scale.
That’s worth taking a closer look at.
I put together a new video examining this incredible Texas hog, including photographs, video and the story behind the animal.
Wildlife never stops surprising us.
Chester Moore Higher Calling Wildlife
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Florida’s Burmese pythons changed what we know about exotic reptiles surviving in the United States. Could one of Africa’s most famous snakes survive here, too?
By Chester Moore
The black mamba is one of the most recognizable and feared snakes on the planet. Native to Africa, it is famous for its size, speed, potent venom and the dramatic black interior of its mouth that gives the species its name. It is also a snake that should be understood rather than sensationalized. Black mambas aren’t monsters pursuing people through the African bush. They are highly specialized predators occupying a wide range of habitats across portions of eastern and southern Africa.
But an interesting wildlife question emerges when we look at what has happened with exotic reptiles in the United States: Could a black mamba survive here? There is no evidence of an established population of black mambas in Florida, Texas or anywhere else in the United States. This isn’t a report of mambas suddenly appearing in the Everglades. It’s an examination of whether parts of the American South could potentially allow an escaped or released black mamba to survive—and why survival and establishment are two very different things.
Black Mamba Attacks & Other African Snake Encounters
The question was inspired in part by a fascinating episode of my Dark Outdoors podcast featuring real encounters with black mambas and other African snakes. The episode gives listeners a much better perspective on these animals by looking at actual encounters where the snakes naturally occur rather than the exaggerated portrayals that have helped give black mambas their fearsome reputation.
Listen to “Black Mamba Attacks & Other African Snake Encounters”:
Beyond the dramatic encounters, the episode got me thinking about the adaptability of reptiles and how difficult it can be to predict what an animal will do when moved into a new environment. We have an incredible example of that playing out right now in Florida.
The Burmese Python Changed the Conversation
A few decades ago, the idea of giant Asian constrictors reproducing in the Florida wilderness would have sounded like the plot of a creature feature. Today, Burmese pythons are an established part of South Florida’s invasive wildlife problem. The Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission and other agencies devote significant resources to python removal and research, and the snakes have become established across a vast area of difficult-to-access habitat while preying upon a tremendous variety of native animals.
Their success provides an important lesson about introduced wildlife. Sometimes an animal encounters an environment different enough from its native habitat that it simply cannot survive. Sometimes individuals survive but never reproduce. And sometimes the pieces line up, with climate, prey, habitat and reproduction combining to allow a species to become established. That is essentially what happened with the Burmese python.
Surviving a Florida Winter
One of the most interesting parts of the python story involves cold weather. South Florida is subtropical, but anyone who has spent much time there knows that subtropical doesn’t mean temperatures never drop. The historic January 2010 cold spell provided researchers with an opportunity to examine how invasive Burmese pythons handled unusually low temperatures, and a U.S. Geological Survey study documented substantial mortality among monitored pythons.
Cold killed snakes, but it didn’t kill all of them or eliminate the population. Later research found evidence of rapid genetic adaptation associated with climatic extremes in Florida’s Burmese python population. That doesn’t mean pythons have somehow become immune to cold, but it does demonstrate the remarkable ability of wildlife populations to respond to environmental pressures. It also makes me cautious whenever I hear someone declare that an exotic reptile “could never survive here.” Nature has a way of making absolute statements look foolish.
Understanding the Black Mamba
The black mamba (Dendroaspis polylepis) has a broad distribution through parts of sub-Saharan Africa. Despite what its name suggests, the snake itself isn’t actually black. Individuals can be gray, olive, brownish or combinations of those colors. The famous black coloration is inside the mouth and can become very visible during a defensive display.
Black mambas inhabit more than one narrowly defined habitat. They occur in areas that include savanna, open woodland, rocky hills and riverine environments, using places such as hollow trees, rock crevices, burrows and other protected areas for shelter. They are active predators, feeding largely on small mammals and other vertebrate prey. Those characteristics are important when considering whether one could survive somewhere like South Florida.
Warm weather would certainly be available, as would rodents and other potential prey. South Florida also has no shortage of vegetation and protected places where a snake could shelter. But those similarities only get us so far.
Florida Isn’t Africa
This is where speculation about introduced wildlife often goes wrong. People look at temperature and say, “It’s hot in both places, so the animal could live there,” but ecology is much more complicated. Average temperatures don’t tell us how an animal responds to a three-day cold snap. They don’t tell us whether excessive moisture creates health problems or whether unfamiliar parasites and diseases affect the animal. They also don’t tell us whether suitable nesting sites exist or whether enough individuals could survive long enough to reproduce successfully.
An individual black mamba surviving for months in South Florida would be remarkable, but it wouldn’t constitute an established population. For that to happen, multiple animals would need to survive, encounter one another, reproduce successfully and produce young capable of surviving and eventually reproducing themselves. That cycle would have to continue year after year, which is a much higher biological hurdle.
Could South Florida Pass the Test?
Of anywhere in the continental United States, extreme South Florida raises some of the most interesting questions. The region has long warm seasons, abundant prey and tremendous amounts of potential reptile habitat. Its existing populations of nonnative reptiles demonstrate that species from tropical and subtropical environments sometimes find Florida surprisingly accommodating.
That doesn’t mean black mambas would. Humidity, rainfall patterns, cold fronts, flooding, parasites, diseases and other environmental factors could potentially prevent long-term survival or reproduction. Without specific research examining the black mamba’s climatic tolerances against conditions in Florida, saying the species would establish there goes well beyond the evidence. Saying an individual might survive, however, is a very different proposition, and that possibility is difficult to dismiss.
What About South Texas?
South Texas presents another fascinating comparison. The region has extreme summer heat, enormous rodent populations and extensive brush country offering potential cover and shelter. Parts of the Rio Grande Valley can feel downright tropical, but Texas also has something South Florida generally experiences to a much lesser degree: powerful winter cold fronts.
Temperatures can fall dramatically when Arctic air pushes deep into the state. The historic freezes Texans have experienced demonstrate how dangerous those events can be to tropical and subtropical wildlife. A black mamba might find plenty to like about a South Texas summer, but winter would be the real test.
An individual that located a deeply protected refuge might survive conditions that would kill an exposed snake, but moving from that possibility to an established breeding population requires numerous assumptions. That’s why I would put South Florida ahead of South Texas when discussing potential habitat, while considering neither location proven suitable for black mamba establishment.
Exotic Animals and Human Responsibility
There is one reason this isn’t purely a hypothetical exercise. Black mambas and many other exotic reptiles are maintained in captivity in the United States. Legitimate zoological facilities and experienced reptile keepers have maintained venomous snakes safely for years. Florida regulates venomous reptile possession and requires specific permitting, experience, facilities and secure caging.
Responsible keepers shouldn’t be painted with the same brush as irresponsible owners. The problem comes when exotic animals escape or people deliberately release animals they no longer want. Florida’s experience with nonnative wildlife shows why that matters. Once a species becomes established, wildlife managers can face an enormously expensive problem that continues for decades, and removing every individual from a vast ecosystem can become virtually impossible. The best time to prevent an invasive species is before it ever becomes invasive.
From Survival to Invasion
Whenever we hear about an unusual exotic animal appearing somewhere in America, it is helpful to separate four very different stages: survival, reproduction, establishment and invasion. An animal can pass the first test and fail the other three.
That’s why the answer to whether black mambas could “live in Florida” depends entirely upon what we mean by live. Could an escaped black mamba potentially survive for some period in South Florida? I wouldn’t dismiss the possibility. Could one survive a winter? Perhaps, depending on weather conditions and available shelter. Could the species establish itself permanently? We don’t know. There isn’t sufficient evidence to say that it could, and there certainly isn’t evidence that a wild breeding population currently exists.
Learning From the Python
The Burmese python invasion should make us humble about predicting what introduced wildlife can and cannot accomplish. It shouldn’t make us paranoid about every exotic reptile. Instead, it should remind us how complicated ecosystems are and how much responsibility comes with keeping animals that evolved thousands of miles away.
The black mamba is an extraordinary predator perfectly suited to the ecosystems where it naturally occurs. It deserves respect for what it actually is rather than fear based on what movies and sensational stories have made it out to be. Hopefully, the question of whether black mambas could establish themselves in Florida or Texas always remains hypothetical.
The python taught us an important lesson about exotic wildlife: once an animal enters a new environment, our predictions don’t necessarily determine what happens next. Climate, habitat, prey, reproduction and the animal’s own adaptability ultimately determine whether it disappears or becomes part of the landscape.
Hear Real Black Mamba Encounters
For a completely different perspective on these remarkable snakes, listen to “Black Mamba Attacks & Other African Snake Encounters” on my Dark Outdoors podcast. The episode explores real encounters involving black mambas and other African snakes and provides a look at what happens when people unexpectedly cross paths with some of the world’s most formidable reptiles.
Years ago, I traveled to a location where someone had illegally killed a buffalo, cut off its head with a chainsaw and left the rest of the animal behind.
It was one of the most disturbing wildlife crimes I have encountered, but unfortunately it was far from the only one.
As a hunter and lifelong wildlife conservationist, I believe an important distinction needs to be made whenever stories like this are told: Poaching is not hunting.
Legal, ethical hunting operates within seasons, regulations and conservation systems designed to manage wildlife populations. Poaching is the illegal taking of wildlife. The two should never be confused.
Hear the Full Story on Dark Outdoors®
I recently explored the buffalo case and several other disturbing wildlife crimes I’ve encountered or investigated in an episode of Dark Outdoors®.
The episode examines not only the buffalo case but also other examples of poaching and wildlife trafficking, including crimes that demonstrate just how serious—and sometimes dangerous—wildlife crime can become.
Wildlife Belongs to More Than One Generation
Wildlife conservation depends on limits.
Seasons, bag limits and other regulations aren’t simply obstacles placed in front of hunters. They are part of a larger wildlife-management system intended to ensure that wildlife populations remain viable for future generations.
Ethical hunters operate within that system.
Poachers deliberately operate outside it.
That difference matters because wildlife isn’t an unlimited resource. An animal illegally killed for its antlers, horns, hide, head or simply for someone’s amusement has been stolen from everyone who values that resource.
This is why I reject the tendency to describe serious poaching simply as “illegal hunting.” Hunting and poaching aren’t interchangeable terms.
The People Who Stand Between Wildlife and Criminals
Wildlife officers and game wardens work a side of conservation that most people rarely see.
Their jobs can involve far more than checking licenses or making sure hunters follow bag limits. They investigate illegal killing, trafficking and commercialization of wildlife, sometimes dealing with people who are willing to threaten or use violence to avoid being caught.
Federal wildlife law enforcement also deals with a global trade in illegally obtained animals and wildlife products. That world can involve smuggling networks moving wildlife and wildlife parts across international borders.
Wildlife crime can become big business, and protecting wildlife sometimes requires serious law-enforcement work.
Hunters Have a Stake in Fighting Poaching
Hunters should be among the loudest voices opposing wildlife crime.
The overwhelming majority of hunters aren’t the people cutting heads off illegally killed animals, slaughtering wildlife outside established regulations or trafficking protected species. They’re people who buy licenses, support conservation programs, follow seasons and care deeply about the future of wildlife.
I have hunted my whole life. This is me with an Eastern wild turkey I took in New York in 2019. The Moore family loves to eat wild game.
Calling a poacher a hunter gives the criminal a connection to legitimate hunting that he or she hasn’t earned.
A person who deliberately steals wildlife isn’t representing hunting.
They’re stealing from wildlife.
They’re stealing from hunters.
And they’re stealing from everyone else who believes wild animals should still be here for the next generation.
That’s why poaching isn’t hunting.
It’s wildlife crime.
Chester Moore
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Drive through parts of the Hill Country and South Texas and you might encounter axis deer, blackbuck antelope or other animals originating thousands of miles from the Lone Star State. But could something much larger and more dangerous occasionally escape into the Texas wilds?
Could African lions and other exotic cats be roaming Texas?
It’s a question I’ve considered for years while investigating reports of unusual cats across Texas and other parts of the South. Most strange-cat sightings probably have much more conventional explanations. Mountain lions can appear in unexpected places, bobcats can look surprisingly large under the right circumstances and eyewitness identification is never perfect.
But some reports are much harder to explain.
Hear the Investigation on Dark Outdoors®
I recently explored one of the strangest big-cat accounts ever brought to me, along with giant cat tracks and other unusual sightings, on Dark Outdoors®.
Listen: “He Found an African Lion in His Chicken Coop in Texas”
One of the strangest accounts ever brought to me came from a Texas man who said he walked outside and discovered an enormous cat in his chicken coop.
What he described wasn’t a mountain lion. He believed he was looking at an African lion.
There was no DNA test or other definitive evidence to prove the animal’s identity, so this case has to remain exactly what it is: an extraordinary eyewitness account. But it raises an interesting wildlife question.
Texas has a tremendous amount of privately held exotic wildlife. While most discussions involve exotic hoofed animals, large exotic cats have also been kept in captivity in the state. If one escaped or was released, how long could it survive?
And how quickly would anyone know it was there?
Big Cats Can Be Hard to Find
Anyone familiar with mountain lions understands just how elusive a large predator can be. A big cat can travel tremendous distances, move largely under the cover of darkness and live surprisingly close to people without being regularly detected.
Photo by Chester Moore
Texas also offers enormous expanses of suitable hiding places, from the thick forests of East Texas to river bottoms, coastal marshes, South Texas brush country and sprawling ranches.
That doesn’t mean prides of African lions are secretly living in Texas. There is no evidence for anything remotely like that. The more reasonable question is whether individual exotic cats have occasionally escaped or been released and survived in the wild for some period of time.
That’s a very different proposition.
What About the Other Mystery Cats?
I’ve investigated unusual cat reports for decades, and not all of them involve animals described as lions.
Some people report exceptionally large cats. Others describe unusual coloration or physical characteristics that don’t seem to fit what they expect from a mountain lion or bobcat. I’ve also personally investigated enormous cat tracks that raised some fascinating questions.
Tracks aren’t proof by themselves. Mud can enlarge an impression, overlapping tracks can create strange shapes and photographs can make judging scale difficult. Any responsible investigation has to consider those possibilities.
But unusual tracks combined with credible eyewitness reports are worth investigating rather than simply dismissing.
Evidence Is What Matters
There is a big difference between asking whether an exotic cat could be roaming Texas and claiming that one is.
Photographs and video are valuable. Clear tracks can provide additional clues. Hair, scat or other biological material could potentially provide much stronger evidence, particularly if DNA analysis were possible.
Until that kind of evidence exists in an individual case, these reports should be treated as reports—not confirmed animals. That doesn’t make them uninteresting. In fact, that’s exactly why I continue investigating them.
Texas is big enough, wild enough and has enough exotic wildlife that unusual animals sometimes turn up where they aren’t supposed to be.
Does that mean every report of a mystery cat is an escaped exotic? Certainly not. But could an African lion or another exotic cat occasionally escape into the Texas wilds and remain undetected for a time?
That’s a question worth investigating.
Chester Moore
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