Don’t be fooled by its size—Cyclophiops major is remarkably gentle-tempered and harmless. Its head isn't triangular like a viper’s, but oval; its body sleek and unpatterned, its tail slender. Often found in forests spanning plains, hills, and mountains, these snakes thrive throughout Shennongjia’s expansive woodlands. Timid by nature, they neither attack other animals nor bite humans. On hot, rainy summer days, they rest quietly coiled on branches, descending only when night brings cooler temperatures to hunt earthworms and insects in fields or along the forest floor. Before winter arrives, they seek shelter to hibernate, reemerging each spring to continue their lineage in these ancient woods.
Most of what people know about the Azemiops feae comes from online legends and grainy photographs. The common myth is that these snakes are confined to the most isolated reaches of the Himalayas. But the truth is, this ancient viper is far more widespread than its black-headed close relative. In Shennongjia, the forest with untamed wilderness offers us a rare chance to lay eyes on this magnificent and secretive animal.
Hee-yoo, hee-yoo... The forest echoed with one desperate cry after another — hee-yoo, hee-yoo. It was a young Syrmaticus reevesii calling out in distress. Clearly, the poor pheasant had lost its way. It was crying for its mother, trembling as if asking, “Where am I? Where am I?”
On the evening of May 9, moonlight quietly filtered through the forest canopy, casting an almost mystical glow over the vast wilderness of Shennongjia. A four-member team—Kevin Messenger, an American professor at Nanjing Forestry University, along with Li Yecheng, Wang Qi and Benjamin Genter (or “Ben” for short)—set out from Yichang for a night survey along the Jiuchong-Songbai Road. Their eyes scanned every ditch and every pile of fallen leaves, like seasoned hunters in search of elusive prey.