WEST PALM BEACH, Fla. -- A burgeoning population of huge pythons - many of them pets that were turned loose by their owners when they got too big - appears to be wiping out large numbers of raccoons, opossums, bobcats and other mammals in the Everglades, a study says.
U.S. cracks down on python sales
By CURTIS MORGANMIAMI -- The federal government branded the Burmese python, infamous for swallowing a smorgasbord of Everglades critters from rabbits to gators, a serpent non grata on Tuesday.
The action, which will ban the import and interstate sale of the python and three other giant exotic constrictors, was hailed by U.S. Interior Secretary Ken Salazar and Florida Sen. Bill Nelson as a milestone for Everglades protection.
"It does us no good to put in these billions of dollars in investments in the Everglades only to have these giant snakes come and undo all the good we are doing," said Salazar, who announced the decision during a news conference along Tamiami Trial near an on-going $80 million bridge project that is key to restoring natural water flow in the Everglades.
After five years of debate and hearings in Washington, U.S. Interior Secretary Ken Salazar is expected to announce the Burmese python will soon be illegal to import.
With a 17-foot skin from a python killed in the Everglades, Florida Sen. Bill Nelson urges a Senate panel to help ban the import of Burmese python into the U.S.By CURTIS MORGAN
Cmorgan@MiamiHerald.com
The United States is poised to formally and finally ban that slithering scourge of the Everglades, the Burmese python.
U.S. Interior Secretary Ken Salazar, who has championed the ban, is expected to make the announcement Tuesday morning during a press conference at a flood control pumping station off Tamiami Trail in the Everglades — a spot that is pretty much ground zero for a giant exotic constrictor that has become one of the nation’s most notorious invasive species.
By Rob Hotakainen
McClatchy News Service
WASHINGTON -- As one of Congress’ top experts on spending issues, Washington state Rep. Norm Dicks keeps an eye on the public purse, and he says that Burmese pythons just cost taxpayers way too much money.
As the snakes multiply and spread, Dicks says, the federal government must spend millions of dollars each year to try to control them. Moreover, he says, the giant, fast-growing snakes jeopardize public safety and threaten the government’s huge investment in restoring Florida’s Everglades.
By The Miami Herald Editorial
HeraldEd@MiamiHerald.com
As the Florida Legislature prepares to grapple with another tight budget year, and leaders vow to continue to build an appealing pro-business environment that reduces costs for businesses to generate more jobs, there’s one jobs creator being virtually ignored that stretches from Kissimmee near Walt Disney World to the Florida Keys: the Everglades.
Cleaning up Florida’s fabled River of Grass after decades of abuse from polluted rainwater runoff draining from area farms, homes and businesses into the ’Glades ecosystem is not only necessary but economically desirable. The 27th annual Everglades Coalition conference underway this week appropriately titled its meeting: “Everglades Restoration: Worth Every Penny.”
The numbers tell why.
Just in the past three years, in the midst of a recession, Everglades restoration projects — whether they redirect canals or elevate roadways or make other needed environmental fixes — have generated 10,500 jobs. Add to that the spin-off of tourism, recreational fishing and other ventures and as many as 442,000 jobs will materialize in the next decades, according to the coalition.
Building the bridge on the Tamiami Trail, which will help restore water flows to the river, is putting 1,212 people to work.
Even as Florida struggles to balance its budget for the coming year, Gov. Rick Scott and the Legislature have to see why the Everglades is not only a water source for agriculture and drinking water for one in three Floridians — the major water source, in fact, for South Florida residents — but also a boon for business.
This is, after all, an international treasure, a rare river that’s more grass than water to the eye, 100 miles long and 60 miles wide, where tourists near and far come to watch flocking birds and gator brawls.
The Everglades ecosystem isn’t some isolated sore spot. It runs from central Florida’s Kissimmee Chain of Lakes into Lake Okeechobee (our water supply) and through the River of Grass, out to Florida Bay and the Keys. Hundreds of thousands of jobs already depend on it.
Visitors to Everglades National Park spend about $165 million a year. And the jobs created by restoration projects pay well, too. Hydrologists, engineers, geologists, surveyors — those are the kinds of jobs Florida should want to keep.
HUTCHINSON ISLAND — Gov. Rick Scott didn't exactly win environmentalists over in his first year in office, as he gutted growth management laws, waged a legal battle against federally imposed water quality standards and expressed general disdain for "job-killing" regulations.
But Thursday evening, the governor stood before an audience of some of his harshest critics at a meeting here of the Everglades Coalition and pledged — like every governor who has spoken before him — that he was committed to restoring the struggling River of Grass.
Job-killing government regulators are at it again. Now they want to take away our beloved pythons.
Well, to be clear, not my beloved python. I’ve never been quite comfortable with the idea of a pet that would devour me without compunction. (I’ve enough trouble maintaining personal relationships with cold-blooded humans.)
But these days, all right-thinking citizens are so conditioned to oppose government regulators that it doesn’t much matter that the thing they want to regulate, all 13-feet of it, came slithering into the backyard swimming pool of a Palmetto Bay home on Christmas Day.
The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service has proposed banning the importation and interstate sale of nine different big constrictors. Pythons, boas and anacondas, aside from having starring roles in our collective nightmares, have been deemed “injurious” to the environment. South Floridians figured that out years ago. Burmese pythons, tossed out by dim-witted pet owners, have been breeding in the Everglades and devouring indigenous animals like tourists at an all-you-can-eat restaurant.
Last year, Frank J. Mazzotti of the University of Florida’s Wildlife Ecology and Conservation Research and Education Center in Fort Lauderdale told a congressional committee that researchers have found 23 species of birds, 15 kinds of mammals and the occasional alligator in the bellies of captured pythons.
Wood storks, snowy egrets, great egrets, great blue herons, little blue herons and limpkins were on the python menu. Along with the endangered wood rat. Mazzotti said that where Burmese pythons have become common in the glades, marsh rabbits have turned scarce. “The only muskrats that have been seen in [Everglades National Park] in the past three years have come from the stomachs of pythons,” he said.
Other big constrictors seem to be flourishing too. William Thomas of the state’s Invasive Species Strike Force spoke Wednesday of finding Northern African pythons hereabouts. South Florida, by the way, is a long swim from northern Africa.
Not that the big snakes are content to stay put in the southern reaches of Florida. Art Roybal, a senior fish and wildlife biologist with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service office in Vero Beach, talked Wednesday of persistent sightings of a big constrictor near Sebastian Inlet that has survived three hard winters. (Perhaps the Burmese pythons, weary of the upstart new constrictors moving into the neighborhood, are fleeing South Florida.)
Michael E. Dorcas, a biology professor at Davidson College and author of Invasive Pythons in the United States, told me that nearly all the studies he has seen show that, based on climate, pythons can survive throughout the state of Florida. Many of the models, he said, indicate that the big snakes could move even further north. Roybal thinks they could spread west along the gulf coast into Texas.
The specter of 15-foot pythons invading all 25 of Florida’s congressional districts (27 after redistricting) has created a kind of a political miracle. Eleven Florida lawmakers, both Republican and Democrat, have written the White House in a show of bipartisan unity demanding that President Obama stop equivocating and approve the proposed snake ban.
Except, these days, any talk of new environmental regulations sets off a hellfire of a reaction. Republicans get angry. Democrats get cowed. An outfit called the U.S. Association of Reptile Keepers has hired a bigtime lobbying firm (yes, in Washington even pythons have their lobbyists) to sell a wildly embellished claim that a ban would “put approximately 1 million Americans in jeopardy of becoming felons, destroy thousands of jobs, and threaten the annual $1.4 billion national and international trade in high quality captive-bred reptiles.”
Powerful members of Congress, adopting their default anti-reg position, came out against the “job-killing” ban. It seems instructive that the two leaders of the pro-snake faction, Senators Orrin Hatch and Lisa Murkowski, hail from states likely to remain unaffected by the python invasion, at least until global warming heats up Utah and Alaska.
The mindless opposition to a big-snake ban illustrates the great lesson of contemporary politics. Americans are fervently opposed to job-killing regulations unless nature gas fracking has happened to ruin their drinking water, or drilling for deep water oil has spoiled their beach, or strip mining has filled up a nearby mountain stream with coal silt or sugar cane fertilizer has spoiled their fishing in the Biscayne National Park, or a python has swallowed the family’s toy poodle. We’re united in opposition to job-killing environmental regulations unless it’s our particular environment that needs regulating.
Not that a constrictor ban would do much, at this point, to save South Florida from the slithering descendants of pet snakes. It’s too late. There’s too many on the loose. Down here, they’re beyond eradication.
But maybe, when the constrictors have wiped out the wading birds and the small mammals in the Everglades, they’ll turn on the Nile monitors and green iguanas and tegu lizards and other exotic discards of the pet reptile industry that are fast taking over South Florida. Our only hope is that these creatures, like the industry, will adopt a policy of self-regulation.
