kmurphy
New member
I know there must be an original on that Everglades picture of a dead burmese and the alligator but I couldn't find it. Thought this article was an interesting read.
Theory regarding gator-snake death match debated
CURTIS MORGAN
McClatchy Newspapers
MIAMI - A year after two bodies were discovered locked in gruesome embrace deep in the marsh, a television documentary attempts to solve a mystery since burned into Everglades lore.
Did a giant python really explode after swallowing an alligator? And what ate the snake's head?
The National Geographic Explorer show examines what happened last September when a 13-foot Burmese python ate a six-foot gator in Everglades National Park. The extraordinary encounter was captured in a memorable macabre photo that captivated the public and experts alike and - for a week, at least - made "alligator-python" among the most Googled phrases on the planet.
The cable show features dramatic re-enactments, slick 3-D animations and lots of morbidly fascinating CSI: Glades-style forensic analysis. When a lab-fed python turns up its nose at the unfamiliar meal of dead gator, for example, scientists whet its appetite by sewing a rat mask to the gator's snout - fashioned from freshly skinned rodent skull.
Ultimately, "Python vs. Gator," which premiered last month and airs again at 9 p.m. Sept. 16 on the National Geographic Channel, offers a provocative new explanation for the bizarre death scene: The Second Gator Theory.
Another gator avenges its species, munching the python's head in a thrashing battle that punctures - from inside out - a snake stuffed with its death-stiffened prey.
"The real killer," the narrator intones, "is still out there."
Perhaps it's lurking on some sawgrassy knoll, because it turns out that the gator conspiracy theory is more than a little controversial. For starters, three of four scientists who took part in the show don't buy it.
"The second alligator theory is nonsense," said Wayne King, curator of herpetology and a crocodilian expert at the Florida Museum of Natural History in Gainesville, who appears with museum colleague Kenneth Krysko.
A gator would have left the snake with multiple punctures and shredded flesh, King said.
"Alligators, they don't bite off a piece," he said. "They grab hold, then they roll and spin. If one grabs you by the arm, normally they wrench the arm off, or if they grab you by the buttocks, they'll rip away a chunk of meat."
Krysko, a snake specialist, echoed the view: "I love this video," but "the ending is simply ridiculous."
Even Stephen Secor, a University of Alabama biologist who first raised the second-gator idea, admitted there is evidence against it. But the remains of the snake's skull showed signs of crushing that point to an attack by something more formidable than a scavenging raccoon, he said.
"That's the only thing I can think of," said Secor, an authority on the digestive physiology of pythons. Still, he agreed, "I would think a big alligator would have done more damage. It would have chewed more."
If there are doubts about its conclusion, the show does dig deeply, in the grisly visceral sense, into the twin killing.
Krysko and King showed how a snake's needlelike teeth couldn't be the source of a fist-sized wound on the gator's skull, suggesting it might have been injured in an earlier tangle with another gator.
If the victim were weakened or even dead when swallowed, there might not have been much of a clash of the titans.
They also discounted one early suggestion that the swallowed gator might have desperately tried to claw its way out, showing how its stout legs would fold back helplessly as it slid snout-first down a snake.
The legs are "clamped down," said King, "like being held in a tight sock."
To gauge a python's impressive digestive prowess, Secor and a team of scientists in Alabama staged a scaled-down version of the meeting in the marsh by coaxing a lab snake to eat a properly sized gator disguised in that rat-head mask.
The resulting gulp by the python provided a carcass-cam view of what it might be like to go down the undulating gullet of a giant constrictor. And follow-up X-rays show a meal half the size of the snake largely dissolved in nine days.
"If that snake was healthy and wasn't disturbed, it could have digested that alligator without any problems," Secor said.
Snow, who has spent several years tracking the spread of pythons in the Everglades, said Secor's work has helped develop important tools for measuring the impact of the huge snakes on native populations.
Based in part on what Snow has pulled from snake stomachs, he and Secor have worked up the first preliminary estimates of how many critters a snake consumes to reach adult breeding size of about 70 pounds - some 210 pounds of assorted mice, birds, mammals and, perhaps, gators.
The research will help pin down whether snakes are routinely, or rarely, dining on gators. Animals and birds leave behind undigestible hair and feathers, and now Snow knows the telltales of a gator meal - fragments of "scutes," the horny hide armor, and claws.
"One of the toughest things about gut content analysis is having reference parts," he said.
Snow is diplomatic, but he doesn't support Secor's second-gator theory either.
After e-mails from Krysko and King, who reviewed a first cut, producers inserted a disclaimer that "not all scientists" agreed with the finding.
National Geographic Channel did not respond to questions about the dubious second-gator conclusion. King and Krysko can only speculate on why two gators somehow seemed fresher or sexier than most experts think likely happened.
"Everybody else believes the snake just burst," Krysko said.
The real prevailing theory is that the python simply bit off more than it could chew, starting a race between digestive juices and rotting gator meat. The rupture, from an internal buildup of gas, indicated which won.
Then the head - heavier than the bloated carcass - likely sank, providing crayfish and muck dwellers with a feast.
Constrictors actually explode spontaneously more often than the public may suspect, said King, who once was reptile curator at the Bronx Zoo and has seen it before.
"Gee whiz, this is not the first time it ever happened," he said. "There's nothing mysterious about it."
http://www.bradenton.com/mld/bradenton/news/local/15428697.htm?source=rss&channel=bradenton_local
Theory regarding gator-snake death match debated
CURTIS MORGAN
McClatchy Newspapers
MIAMI - A year after two bodies were discovered locked in gruesome embrace deep in the marsh, a television documentary attempts to solve a mystery since burned into Everglades lore.
Did a giant python really explode after swallowing an alligator? And what ate the snake's head?
The National Geographic Explorer show examines what happened last September when a 13-foot Burmese python ate a six-foot gator in Everglades National Park. The extraordinary encounter was captured in a memorable macabre photo that captivated the public and experts alike and - for a week, at least - made "alligator-python" among the most Googled phrases on the planet.
The cable show features dramatic re-enactments, slick 3-D animations and lots of morbidly fascinating CSI: Glades-style forensic analysis. When a lab-fed python turns up its nose at the unfamiliar meal of dead gator, for example, scientists whet its appetite by sewing a rat mask to the gator's snout - fashioned from freshly skinned rodent skull.
Ultimately, "Python vs. Gator," which premiered last month and airs again at 9 p.m. Sept. 16 on the National Geographic Channel, offers a provocative new explanation for the bizarre death scene: The Second Gator Theory.
Another gator avenges its species, munching the python's head in a thrashing battle that punctures - from inside out - a snake stuffed with its death-stiffened prey.
"The real killer," the narrator intones, "is still out there."
Perhaps it's lurking on some sawgrassy knoll, because it turns out that the gator conspiracy theory is more than a little controversial. For starters, three of four scientists who took part in the show don't buy it.
"The second alligator theory is nonsense," said Wayne King, curator of herpetology and a crocodilian expert at the Florida Museum of Natural History in Gainesville, who appears with museum colleague Kenneth Krysko.
A gator would have left the snake with multiple punctures and shredded flesh, King said.
"Alligators, they don't bite off a piece," he said. "They grab hold, then they roll and spin. If one grabs you by the arm, normally they wrench the arm off, or if they grab you by the buttocks, they'll rip away a chunk of meat."
Krysko, a snake specialist, echoed the view: "I love this video," but "the ending is simply ridiculous."
Even Stephen Secor, a University of Alabama biologist who first raised the second-gator idea, admitted there is evidence against it. But the remains of the snake's skull showed signs of crushing that point to an attack by something more formidable than a scavenging raccoon, he said.
"That's the only thing I can think of," said Secor, an authority on the digestive physiology of pythons. Still, he agreed, "I would think a big alligator would have done more damage. It would have chewed more."
If there are doubts about its conclusion, the show does dig deeply, in the grisly visceral sense, into the twin killing.
Krysko and King showed how a snake's needlelike teeth couldn't be the source of a fist-sized wound on the gator's skull, suggesting it might have been injured in an earlier tangle with another gator.
If the victim were weakened or even dead when swallowed, there might not have been much of a clash of the titans.
They also discounted one early suggestion that the swallowed gator might have desperately tried to claw its way out, showing how its stout legs would fold back helplessly as it slid snout-first down a snake.
The legs are "clamped down," said King, "like being held in a tight sock."
To gauge a python's impressive digestive prowess, Secor and a team of scientists in Alabama staged a scaled-down version of the meeting in the marsh by coaxing a lab snake to eat a properly sized gator disguised in that rat-head mask.
The resulting gulp by the python provided a carcass-cam view of what it might be like to go down the undulating gullet of a giant constrictor. And follow-up X-rays show a meal half the size of the snake largely dissolved in nine days.
"If that snake was healthy and wasn't disturbed, it could have digested that alligator without any problems," Secor said.
Snow, who has spent several years tracking the spread of pythons in the Everglades, said Secor's work has helped develop important tools for measuring the impact of the huge snakes on native populations.
Based in part on what Snow has pulled from snake stomachs, he and Secor have worked up the first preliminary estimates of how many critters a snake consumes to reach adult breeding size of about 70 pounds - some 210 pounds of assorted mice, birds, mammals and, perhaps, gators.
The research will help pin down whether snakes are routinely, or rarely, dining on gators. Animals and birds leave behind undigestible hair and feathers, and now Snow knows the telltales of a gator meal - fragments of "scutes," the horny hide armor, and claws.
"One of the toughest things about gut content analysis is having reference parts," he said.
Snow is diplomatic, but he doesn't support Secor's second-gator theory either.
After e-mails from Krysko and King, who reviewed a first cut, producers inserted a disclaimer that "not all scientists" agreed with the finding.
National Geographic Channel did not respond to questions about the dubious second-gator conclusion. King and Krysko can only speculate on why two gators somehow seemed fresher or sexier than most experts think likely happened.
"Everybody else believes the snake just burst," Krysko said.
The real prevailing theory is that the python simply bit off more than it could chew, starting a race between digestive juices and rotting gator meat. The rupture, from an internal buildup of gas, indicated which won.
Then the head - heavier than the bloated carcass - likely sank, providing crayfish and muck dwellers with a feast.
Constrictors actually explode spontaneously more often than the public may suspect, said King, who once was reptile curator at the Bronx Zoo and has seen it before.
"Gee whiz, this is not the first time it ever happened," he said. "There's nothing mysterious about it."
http://www.bradenton.com/mld/bradenton/news/local/15428697.htm?source=rss&channel=bradenton_local
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