Tracking Snakes with the Bali Snake and Wildlife Rescue Organization
Tracking King Cobras in Bali: A Tribute to the ‘King Cobra Whisperer’
May 2016: On my way to Papua to visit the Korowai tribe, I had a layover in Bali for a few days. I could have kicked back in a beachside cottage, indulging in massages and tropical cocktails—but that wasn’t my style. Instead, I had arranged to track wild king cobras with the Bali Snake and Wildlife Rescue Organization.
As a lifelong snake enthusiast, the opportunity to track a king cobra—the largest venomous snake in the world—was a dream come true. Months before my trip, I reached out to the organization, offering a donation in exchange for tagging along. I was excited to shadow Edi, a local Balinese man dubbed the “King Cobra Whisperer.” His passion for conservation, wildlife, and snake rescue had earned him a reputation as Bali’s version of Steve Irwin—enthusiastic, fearless, and deeply committed to protecting the island’s reptiles.
Tragedy Before My Arrival
But just a week before I landed, tragedy struck. Edi was bitten by a king cobra during a routine rescue. It wasn’t his first bite, but this time, local hospitals were out of antivenom. By the time it was found, it was too late. Even with treatment, a king cobra’s venom is potent enough to kill an elephant—and the odds had not been in his favor.
Despite the devastating loss, the Bali Reptile Rescue team decided to carry on Edi’s legacy. His trainees, determined to continue his work, welcomed me into their world of snake tracking and rescue.
Into the Wilds of West Bali
I arrived in Bali late at night via Brunei, and early the next morning, I joined the rescue team on a trip to West Bali, a wilder, jungle-covered region teeming with snakes. Over the next few days, I would accompany them on calls to remove venomous snakes from hotel grounds and residential areas, relocating them safely into the wild.
Though Edi was gone, his spirit lived on in the team’s passion for conservation. And as I stepped into the world of king cobras and jungle snake rescues, I couldn’t help but feel that this adventure was more than just about tracking snakes—it was also about honoring a man who dedicated his life to protecting them.
About Bali
Map of Bali -West Bali National Park is where I went to track King Cobras
Bali: A Hindu Oasis in an Islamic Nation
Bali stands out as Indonesia’s only Hindu-majority island, a spiritual and cultural sanctuary in a predominantly Islamic nation. Renowned for its serene landscapes, ornate Hindu temples, and welcoming atmosphere, the island has long been a favorite among travelers.
This was my second visit to Bali. My first trip was in May 2013 with my friend Dan, as part of a larger journey to Komodo Island, East Timor, and Kakadu, Australia. The highlight of that trip? Visiting the Monkey Forest in Ubud and watching wild monkeys terrorize unsuspecting tourists—a mix of comedy and chaos that made for an unforgettable experience.
Balinese man and a wild Macaque monkey in Ubud Monkey Forest
Dan and a wild Macaque monkey in Ubud Monkey Forest
Ubud Forest Wild Monkey
Monkey Forest Hindu Temple
Hindu Statue on beach
Hindu Ceremonial Cremation in the middle of a public street
Tracking Wild King Cobras
Tracking King Cobras in Edi’s Footsteps
My friends from Bali Rescue and I ventured into the wild forests where Edi used to track King Cobras, following in the footsteps of the legendary snake tracker who had tragically passed away just weeks before.
While November is the best season to find King Cobras—when they are almost guaranteed to appear—it was May, making sightings less likely. But since they can still be found year-round, we remained hopeful.
We hiked through dense thickets, carefully inspecting under trees, using long sticks to stir up brush, and following streams, since snakes tend to stay near water where prey is abundant. King Cobras primarily hunt other large cobra species, but they also eat rodents and lizards.
No Wild King Cobras—But a Visit to Edi’s House
After hours of searching, we didn’t find any King Cobras, but my guides were determined for me to see one. So, they decided to take me to Edi’s house—where, as it turns out, he had been keeping wild King Cobras he had rescued and was preparing to relocate away from villages into more remote areas.
Beyond seeing the snakes, the visit also had a deeper purpose. The team wanted to check in on Edi’s family, offering support to his widow and children after their devastating loss.
As we set off toward Edi’s home, I realized that this experience wasn’t just about finding King Cobras—it was about honoring the man who had dedicated his life to protecting them.
Playing with Cobras
A Heartbreaking Visit to Edi’s Home
I felt deeply awkward about visiting Edi’s home so soon after his death, but his friends assured me it was okay. Still, the sadness in the air was heavy, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was intruding on a family’s grief.
Edi’s home was more than just a house—it was like a small outdoor zoo, filled with rescued wild animals and snakes. He had dedicated his life to conservation and education, becoming a leading voice in western Bali. Instead of killing potentially dangerous animals, villagers had started calling him for help, trusting him to relocate or heal wounded wildlife.
During my visit, many villagers were paying their respects to Edi’s family. I met his wife and young daughter, expressing my gratitude for allowing me to visit. Despite their immense loss, they were incredibly gracious and polite. I told them I was a huge fan of wildlife conservation, and that Edi was a hero to me.
Hearing this, his daughter teared up. Later, she told me that she wants to follow in her father’s footsteps—to protect Bali’s wildlife, including snakes, despite the fact that a cobra bite took her father’s life.
I was also told that in his final moments, Edi had said he hoped no one would blame the cobra for his death. That was the kind of man he was—one who loved and respected all creatures, even the one that ultimately killed him.
It was truly heartbreaking to witness the suffering of his family, especially his young daughter, who had lost not just her father, but her greatest role model. Yet, in her determination to continue his work, there was also hope—a testament to the lasting impact of a man who lived and died for the creatures he loved.
Balinese Villager
Balinese Boy
Small macaque monkey, under the care of Edi’s family, abandoned in the wild when its parents were killed by a car
A King Cobra Loose in the Village Field
In Edi’s backyard, several gigantic 10-foot-long king cobras lay in cages, awaiting relocation back into the wild after recovering from injuries. As I approached, one of them let out a deep, guttural hiss, making it very clear that my presence was unwelcome.
Then my guides asked me a wild question:
“Do you want to see one outside the cage?”
I was both excited and hesitant—especially standing in the very place where Edi had lost his life to a king cobra bite. But in small villages in Indonesia, things often unfold in ways you’d never expect.
Taking a King Cobra for a Walk
The guys managed to secure one of the massive cobras in a sack and casually carried it outside Edi’s house—to a village field where kids were playing soccer.
Yes, you read that right.
As they released the cobra into the field, I stood in disbelief. A few curious kids paused to watch, then went back to their game—only about 30 yards away. Bicyclists and villagers passed by, barely acknowledging that a deadly snake was slithering through their town.
One of the guys, clearly nervous, admitted that they were Edi’s apprentices and that this was their first time handling a king cobra alone. They needed the practice, but they were definitely on edge.
A Near Disaster
I kept a very wide berth, knowing that a king cobra can rear up to a human’s height and strike with lightning speed. I had no intention of being anywhere close.
Then, things almost went south.
At one point, the cobra suddenly turned on one of the handlers, catching him off guard. He stumbled and fell, and for a split second, pure terror flashed in his eyes—he thought he was about to get bitten. He barely managed to block the snake’s advance with his iron-handling rod, stopping the cobra just in time.
After much effort (and unnecessary antagonization of the snake), they finally wrangled it back into the sack and returned it to its cage.
An Unforgettable Experience
As I stood there, adrenaline still pumping, I couldn’t help but marvel at the absurdity of what had just happened. We had just taken a king cobra for a walk—in a field where kids were playing soccer—with handlers who were still learning the ropes.
Only in small villages in places like Indonesia does something like this seem perfectly normal.
Me behinnd the king cobra with the handling rod
My guide handling the king cobra
Mighty beast
Fierce eyes of a cobra
Video of my guides handling the King Cobra in the park
Searching for More Snakes in the Jungle
Snake Hunting in Bali’s Rainforest
Bali still has pockets of pristine tropical rainforest, and these areas are prime habitats for reptiles. Having visited rainforests all over the world, I’ve always been amazed at how rarely I see snakes on my own—but when accompanied by a skilled local guide, I suddenly realize just how abundant they really are.
For this search, we chose a rural farm bordering jungle and set out in the afternoon and night, armed only with flashlights and a sharp eye.
A World Hidden in Plain Sight
With my guide’s expertise, we began spotting snakes every five minutes—something I would have never been able to do alone. Many were so perfectly camouflaged that I had to strain my eyes to make them out, even when they were right in front of me.
Most were non-venomous, but some were extremely deadly. Despite their reputation, none showed any aggression—they simply slithered away upon detection, proving that snakes aren’t out to attack humans unless provoked.
This experience reinforced what I already knew: in the right environment, snakes are everywhere, silently blending into the landscape—a hidden world that only reveals itself to those who know where to look.
Giant Gecko Lizard
Venemous Tree Viper at head level with me in a tree
Tree snake
Tree snake
Vine snake that was pretty docile and easy to hold
Deadly coral snake along the street in the gutter that even my guide was hesitant to get to close to. Not only is it deadly the way the poison kills is you is extremely gruesome and painful.
Releasing a Sptting Cobra into the Wild
Riding Through Bali With a Spitting Cobra in a Backpack
One of the guides got a call from a hotel manager who needed help—a spitting cobra had been terrorizing guests. By the time I arrived, the cobra had already been captured, sitting in a cage at my guide’s house.
“Want to come release it into the jungle?” he asked.
I was all in.
A Nasty Little Cobra
Though small, this spitting cobra made up for its size with sheer attitude. It was aggressive, mean, and capable of spitting venom that could blind a person. For safety, we wore protective goggles before handling it.
As soon as my guide opened the cage, the cobra hissed violently and spat venom in his direction. He expertly threw a thick sack over it, tied it shut, and then—to my slight horror—dropped the sack into his backpack.
The Most Questionable Moped Ride of My Life
Without hesitation, he hopped onto his moped and gestured for me to climb on behind him. I gripped his shoulders tightly, pressed up against the backpack—with the live spitting cobra inside.
For an hour, we weaved through busy streets, past rice paddies, and into more remote areas, carrying a highly venomous snake in a cloth sack between us. The thought of it somehow escaping mid-ride was impossible to ignore.
Finally, we veered onto a dark dirt road leading into the jungle, stopping near an ancient Hindu temple by a stream. This, he said, was the perfect place to release the cobra.
I had ridden mopeds through all kinds of wild places before—but never with a deadly snake as a passenger.
Balinese spitting cobra
Spitting cobra didn’t want to leave without a fight
A Standoff with a Spitting Cobra in the Dark
By the time we reached the jungle, it was completely dark, so we strapped on headlamps for visibility. The rescue worker opened the sack, releasing the spitting cobra into the wild.
But instead of slithering away to freedom, the cobra turned to face us, hooded up, and began hissing aggressively.
Then, it spat venom with pinpoint accuracy—some landing directly on my goggles. I now fully understood why protective eyewear was non-negotiable. The cobra was determined to stand its ground, refusing to back down unless we did first.
A Tense Moment in Total Darkness
The rescue worker calmly instructed, “Turn off your light.”
The snake, he explained, was fixated on our headlamps—and would only leave if we plunged into complete darkness.
I hesitated. The thought of standing in pitch blackness with an aggressive, venom-spitting cobra only feet away wasn’t exactly comforting. But I trusted him.
We turned off our lights.
For 30 long seconds, I stood motionless, heart pounding, knowing the cobra was still somewhere right in front of us.
Finally, we switched our lights back on—and just like that, the snake was gone. It had silently disappeared into the jungle, finally claiming its freedom.
From Adrenaline to Absolute Relaxation
The next day, I traded snakes and jungle tension for ultimate serenity—spending my last day in Bali at a hidden cottage tucked away in a lush garden, where I got a massage by a rushing stream.
From dodging venom in the dark to pure relaxation in paradise, Bali had delivered a wild, unforgettable experience—one I wouldn’t soon forget.
Lush garden at my guesthouse