– Bryan D. Hughes, Rattlesnake Solutions.
Is relocating a snake always a death sentence?
No, but it’s complicated, and it certainly can be. Here I’ll discuss some misunderstandings of the practice, what is working, and where there’s room for future study and improvement. This is within the scope of Arizona-native reptiles, specifically rattlesnakes, so relevance to other locations and species may vary… but that’s kind of the point, as you’ll see.
First, I must divulge my involvement: I operate a private business that performs snake relocation services in Arizona. Over the years, as we’ve acquired more data on the problem, the mission has become increasingly focused on prevention. So while funds generated from these services do pay my mortgage, I’d gladly never relocate another snake if that were possible. I relocate many snakes each year, which is exactly why I am also a vocal critic of the practice as it exists and want better.
The real problem: us
As we often tell homeowners when describing rattlesnake behavior, an encounter takes two. Rattlesnakes in the desert aren’t a problem until we show up and build cities on it (Pitts et al. 2017).
When a large, venomous snake appears on a doorstep, what can the homeowner do? They may choose to ignore him, move him… or kill him.
Assume that a homeowner does not want to kill the snake (yay!), but has small children and a puppy, and doesn’t feel that a Western Diamond-backed Rattlesnake sleeping in the pool toys is an ignorable event. That leaves one option that a typical homeowner is willing to take: relocation. But the details are everything. Catching a snake to put somewhere else can be simply an act of feel-good futility, but it doesn’t need to be.
The state of snake relocation practice is an oversimplified, poorly understood baseline
There are a thousand ways a relocated snake can die, which is the root of that “death sentence” line. Those who harshly critique the practice as a whole do so with good reason. It’s a well-studied topic, and most studies show that the practice results in poor outcomes for the snake. Moving a snake outside their established home range most often results in increased movement and surface activity, which could eventually cause the animal’s death (Nowak et al. 2002).
But there is a problem of specification and terminology here. Carefully moving a snake from an area of immediate conflict to the neighboring tree line is also relocation. There is a huge difference between the old “drive them a few miles out in the desert and let them go” and simply solving the danger of the moment by moving a rattlesnake to an adjacent drainage.
Long-distance translocation, where a snake is moved outside of their home range, should be avoided whenever possible. Short-distance relocation, where a snake is moved within their home range, does not show the same detrimental effects on individual snakes.
A better representation of the overall practice would be to draw a clear distinction between methods. Long-distance translocation, where a snake is moved outside of their home range, should be avoided whenever possible. Short-distance relocation, where a snake is moved within their home range, does not show the same detrimental effects on individual snakes (Brown et al. 2009, Corbit & Hayes 2022).
This does not mean that short-distance relocation isn’t without problems. It is far from a solution to the overall situation. But, as part of a larger, more sustainable process, there is some promise. The point remains: a blanket statement that relocating a snake will kill them is inaccurate.
So where do we go from here? Despite extensive research on the topic, there are aspects that are yet to be addressed. Here are some issues and inconsistencies in the current state of snake relocation, revealing areas where additional research may improve outcomes.
Relocation studies are not evaluating real-world situations
Most research on rattlesnake relocation compares the outcomes of translocated snakes to controls (unmoved snakes) in natural areas where snakes are thriving. In conflict situations where relocation is invoked, snakes may not be likely to live long without intervention. A rattlesnake displaced by construction, or caught in bird netting, is not an accurate comparison to a control snake in a study.
How often would snakes found in conflict situations be killed if relocation wasn’t an option? Relocating a snake, even in the most random and haphazard way, may still be less deadly than a shovel. The success of translocated study animals relative to those in real conflict situations is unknown, but the disparity is likely not as severe. Of course a study testing this is easier said than done, as it might be difficult to get community support for tracking venomous snakes in their backyards.
Success criteria in these studies also differ from what matters in the real world. Whether a snake is considered an issue in conflict situations is highly dependent on their exact location and detection probability. A rattlesnake found in the garage and one living in the bushes just beyond the property line are worlds apart in terms of what the homeowner might be worried about; they may not ever even know the latter exists. In research, failure is often defined within 50 yards (Brown et al. 2008, Corbit & Hayes 2022) or the snake’s original home range (Nowak et al 2002). Shouldn’t a snake that remains in their home range, survives the encounter, but avoids future detection be considered a job well done, rather than a failure?
The natural history of the animals can’t be ignored
The home range of a snake isn’t an arbitrarily-placed circle, but a collection of many important features. These essential microhabitats, and how critical they are to survival, vary greatly between species, conditions, time of year, and other factors (Goode et al. 2008, Schaefer et al. 2025). However, release-site selection in relocation studies are seldom derived from the animal’s seasonal natural history. Beyond a broad match of general habitat, distance, access, and direction (often random) are the primary factors in selecting a release site in the majority of snake relocation studies (Sullivan et al. 2015, Choquette et al. 2023).
There may be opportunities for improvement by paying closer attention to how the snake is using the capture site, and trying to emulate that situation within their estimated home range.
There may be opportunities for improvement by paying closer attention to how the snake is using the capture site, and trying to emulate that situation within their estimated home range. A snake found hiding in deep cover on a hot day needs to be released to a similarly cool refuge, even if it is a bit further away than the closest habitat. On that same day, a snake moved only a dozen feet away, but placed in the wrong microhabitat, likely won’t survive for even a minute. If a home range is defined by a collection of important microhabitats, then distance may be just one of many factors impacting the success of a relocation.
The temporal-spatial data required for developing specific relocation methods may not yet exist, or be sufficiently detailed to be suitable for all species and areas. But this is an opportunity for improving relocation methods that could provide solutions for animals stuck in no-win conflict situations.
Availability and will are not a replacement for deep understanding
If understanding the natural history and spatial ecology of a relocated animal is important, then the current state of the practice is in desperate need. Far too much focus is spent on the task of capturing the snake and putting them in a bucket, with little effort spent on learning about what to do next. In reality, once the snake is captured, the real work begins.
As an example, a topic that doesn’t make me many friends: the fire department and the “influencer” problem.
Free handling venomous snakes, taking unnecessary risks, and generally exploiting fear for followers nullifies any educational value of the practice.
Some parts of the Phoenix and Tucson metro areas rely on the fire department to capture and relocate snakes. In fact, it is likely that the majority of snake relocations in Arizona are performed by a handful of busy fire departments. They receive training in capturing and handling, and are instructed to release the snake over the fence or at the edge of the property.
Unfortunately, this is not always the case. Based on photos, videos, and stories from homeowners, the animals are often mishandled, injured, and even die during the capture process. This is typically due to improper placement of snake tongs and applying too much pressure on a delicate neck and spine. The snakes are sometimes released where they are supposed to be, but some departments take them all to a single designated release site. They are released under the same conditions, regardless of season, weather, or the snake’s species or condition. Even when a very short distance move is made, the odds of the snake surviving are low. Other times, snakes are just taken around the corner and killed. The evidence for this: dead snakes we find during property inspections after the relocation, and discussions with individual firefighters themselves. The point is not that these are bad people: they’ve been handed a complicated task, even for a snake expert, without suitable training, interest, or time to do it correctly. There are few fire departments that do not admit in private conversations that they wish people would stop calling them to catch snakes. They have important work to do, and resolving wildlife conflict doesn’t need to be part of it.
Venomous snakes, in particular, face another challenge to a safe and successful relocation.. In a social-media-driven culture, reckless behavior with a venomous snake is an easy way to gain subscribers and attention. It is not uncommon for snake relocation and handling personalities, even those with large followings and notoriety, to know very little about how the snakes they work with live in nature. Essentially, if an individual lacks the information or experience to reliably find the animals they work with in the wild, they are unlikely to identify a suitable release site. Most damaging, though, is how these acts affect the larger culture of snake encounters. Free handling venomous snakes, taking unnecessary risks, and generally exploiting fear for followers nullifies any educational value of the practice.
The solution here is to put pressure on individuals and organizations to demonstrate expertise with the animals they work with. Permits and enforcement could be improved and consistent among states, with training and expertise on the entire relocation process required to offer the service. Having time and gas to donate may have been a good first step, but it’s time to raise the bar on what is expected.
As for stupid stunts being an easy way to get attention: that’s a very different article that needs to be written by a psychologist…
The elephant in the room, and an opportunity
Even if all snake relocation efforts were overwhelmingly successful, the real problem remains: growing human population, massive expansion of developed areas, and a changing climate.
Whether the snake is killed on the spot or relocated as perfectly as possible, it is addressing a symptom, not the problem. A property that maintains lush vegetation, sources of water and food, and deep access to cool places may always be useful to rattlesnakes. Homeowners who ignore these factors can expect future snake encounters. Snake relocators who fail to recognize and educate are missing an opportunity to have a greater impact than on the individual snake by providing more sustainable options.
What does success look like?
It should be the goal of anyone who relocates a wild animal to never be called again by that homeowner.
This is the goal: solve the immediate conflict, educate, prompt local habitat modification, and leave resident animals in place. I often refer to this as the “battle of 40 feet” to describe the relative microscale of the conflict to be solved. This can sometimes be accomplished with an action as simple as removing a bush or cleaning up pavers alongside the home. The snake (and their relocation) is often the catalyst for a more productive and educational relationship with the homeowner. The combination of information about the ecological importance of snakes and a positive experience can change minds (Larson et al. 2025). A common situation experienced by me and my team: a snake relocation leads to a shift in perspective of the requesting party that makes future encounters irrelevant. It’s a foot in the door, often where information would be otherwise rejected or ignored. We’re not typically working with people who will come to a lecture at the local nature center to learn how to peacefully coexist with wildlife. This is a conversation that may be most impactful over a container, filled with a venomous snake found moments earlier on the doorstep. It should be the goal of anyone who relocates a wild animal to never be called again by that homeowner.
A recommended process, greatly simplified
All this critique can’t be given without providing a possible solution. While there’s obviously much work left to do (that should never stop), this is my recommendation. The practice used by our team is based on what I believe to be the best combination of available research, natural history, and study of the human side of the picture. This can be another article itself, but here I present a greatly simplified version of what we do when a snake relocation is requested.
Evaluate the situation
Does the snake actually need to be moved, or can the conflict be resolved with a combination of photos and discussion? Is there truly a “problem” to solve? Does the snake’s position represent an immediate threat (including danger to the snake)? If not, this should be the start of an ongoing educational support relationship, as needed.
If the snake needs to be moved, or if it is suspected that the homeowner will kill the snake if action is not taken, capture the snake as safely as possible, without unnecessary antics.
Assess the overall area, which may include using satellite imagery. Treat the snake’s presence as a result of a larger system; these are not random events. Provide the homeowner with as much information as possible about why the snake is there, what they can do about it, and what they may expect in the future. Establish yourself as an educational resource. This step should be the bulk of time spent on a property.
Find a suitable release spot
In the car, where there is time to evaluate carefully, use satellite maps and property boundary tools (we use Apple or Google Maps, GaiaGPS, and OnX Hunt) to assess habitat in the area. Estimate the snake’s home range using features like drainages, rocky outcrops, and riparian zones.
The release site should be the nearest accessible microhabitat that is appropriate for this species and situation, within, or as close as possible (with direct line-of-sight access) to their estimated home range.
Based on the individual snake’s characteristics (species, sex, condition), season, and weather, find suitable potential release sites that are legally accessible and ethically appropriate. The release site should be the nearest accessible microhabitat that is appropriate for this species and situation, within, or as close as possible (with direct line-of-sight access) to their estimated home range. If possible, select a second site to use if the primary location doesn’t meet expectations when you arrive.
If this sounds complicated: good! It is, and should be. We’re working with the life of an animal, so now’s not the time to skimp on the details.
Release the snake
Hike the snake into the location to release. If the site looks suitable, use it. If not, keep looking for the ideal spot. The snake should be released directly into deep cover whenever possible. That may be a caliche cave, packrat midden, tree stump, or other temperature-stable situation. If possible, place the snake next to the cover and let them discover and retreat to it at will.
Do all of this as efficiently and discreetly as possible, for both your safety and that of the snakes.
Why this matters, and a goal for the future
A motivating factor, and symbol of where this topic lives in the minds of many knowledgeable about snakes, is a story I heard at a conference years ago. A rattlesnake was found at a residence, and the speaker said: “if the snake was relocated, there is a chance he could die, so he was humanely euthanized.”
This ironic statement hit me over the head. I realized that, despite having learned so much, we may just not be doing the math. Snake relocation is a polarizing topic that seems to generate a strong opinion due to personal reasons more than careful understanding.
Thanks to the massive effort by countless individuals over many years to help unvilify snakes in the eyes of a fearful culture, more people than ever want to preserve the lives of snakes. They’re putting down the shovels and shotguns, and it’s less and less socially acceptable to kill snakes. Even those who still do often express that they wish they didn’t have to.
But now, they’re asking what comes next. They may not want to kill the snake, but when the local wildlife expert tells them that moving him to the bushes down the way is the same thing, what are they to do? The practice of snake relocation is full of problems, failures, and complexity. But some successes, too. More importantly, a lot of room for improvement… if we aren’t so quick to insist on futility.
We have the ear of the general public. They’re listening and asking what to do when a rattlesnake is found by the front door. It is up to us all, as people who want the best for both the snakes and people who encounter them, to have a good answer.
References
TK Brown, JM Lemm, JP Montagne, JA Tracey, AC Alberts. 2008. Spatial ecology, habitat use, and survivorship of resident and translocated Red Diamond Rattlesnakes (Crotalus ruber). Pp. 377–394 in W.K. Hayes, K.R. Beaman, M.D. Cardwell, and S.P. Bush (eds.), The Biology of Rattlesnakes. Loma Linda University Press, Loma Linda, CA.
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