In the quiet hours before dawn in Ang Thong province, a 74-year-old woman named Kasorn (spelled Kaesorn in some reports) held vigil over an uninvited houseguest—a huge python that slithered into her home and refused to leave. By sunrise, one of her five beloved cats had vanished. What unfolded at 38/2 Moo 6, Bang Phlap subdistrict, Pho Thong district, was equal parts suspense, superstition, and small-town solidarity—all unfolding on August 10.
Living alone with her cats and managing a disability in her left hand, Kasorn is used to handling life’s hurdles. But this one came with scales. It started with a rustle and a bump in the night—strange noises that drew her to the kitchen. There, a gleaming, muscle-bound python, likely attracted by her pets, was making itself at home. In a uniquely Thai twist, she tried to reason with the serpent, gently urging it to leave—after acknowledging, with a touch of humor and hope, that it might have brought her a little fortune. The python, unmoved and clearly fond of high places, slid up into the kitchen rafters and stayed put, transforming the house into a tense standoff zone.
With sleep out of the question, Kasorn kept watch through the night, worried for her four remaining cats and wondering whether the missing one had slipped away to safety—or become the snake’s midnight snack. At first light, she called in reinforcements: volunteers from the Poh Teck Tung Foundation and the Ang Thong Rescue Association.
Volunteer Lek was first to assess the situation. One glance at the rafters and he knew this was going to require backup—and patient, careful technique. Soon, Peter, a veteran from the Ang Thong Rescue Association, joined the operation. As neighbors gathered at a respectful distance, the rescue team worked deliberately, using professional tools and calm precision to coax the python down.
When the capture was finally secured, a ripple of relief swept through the lane. The snake, measured at a lengthy 3.90 metres from head to tail, was safely contained. Cheers followed, along with a flurry of whispered calculations. As often happens in Thailand, onlookers quickly noted the day, the house number, and that very specific snake length—numbers some residents believe might bring luck in the lottery. According to KhaoSod, the incident drew a crowd, and yes, plenty of hopeful number-scribbling ensued.
For Kasorn, it was the end of a sleepless night and the beginning of a cautious clean-up. Her missing cat was still unaccounted for, a heart-tugging detail amid the day’s drama. Even so, she expressed deep gratitude to the volunteers who restored calm—and her sense of safety.
Where it happened, and why it matters
Bang Phlap, in the Pho Thong district of Ang Thong, is a place where suburban life blends into fields and waterways—a landscape that snakes find just as inviting as people do. During certain seasons, sightings spike as pythons and other species follow prey into villages, especially where small pets roam freely. That’s why trained rescue crews like those from the Poh Teck Tung Foundation and the Ang Thong Rescue Association are so essential: they step in to protect both residents and wildlife.
It’s worth emphasizing: pythons may look intimidating, but they’re not out to pick a fight with humans. The safest move is always the one Kasorn made—call professionals and keep your distance.
Quick facts from the Ang Thong python drama
- Date: August 10
- Location: 38/2 Moo 6, Bang Phlap subdistrict, Pho Thong district, Ang Thong province
- Resident: 74-year-old Kasorn (also reported as Kaesorn)
- Snake: Reticulated python, approximately 3.90 metres in length
- Responders: Poh Teck Tung Foundation and Ang Thong Rescue Association volunteers, including Lek and Peter
- Outcome: Snake safely captured; one cat missing
Another serpent saga: king cobra in a Trang durian orchard
If Ang Thong had its python, Trang had a monarch: a large king cobra that became the talk of a durian orchard all harvest season. On July 7, orchard owner Jarun Sae-Iew, 73, called for help after spotting the snake again in his Ban Thung Yao orchard in Palian district. Enter 21-year-old Suphat Eadchata—better known locally as Benz the Snake Wrangler—an agile rescue worker with the Na Muen Sri Subdistrict Rescue Unit. After multiple sightings and near misses among busy farmhands, the team finally managed a careful capture, easing tension across the orchard and letting durians drop in peace again.
Both stories highlight a reality across rural Thailand: as development edges into wild habitats, wildlife adapts—and sometimes turns up in unexpected places. The good news is that communities are increasingly relying on trained responders rather than risky DIY attempts, saving animals and avoiding injuries.
Between folklore and first responders
Thailand’s relationship with snakes is layered with folklore, respect, and a dash of pragmatism. From treating unusual encounters as omens of luck to calling in seasoned rescue teams, the response blends culture and caution. In Ang Thong, that meant neighbors swapping number tips even as volunteers methodically measured and contained the python. In Trang, it meant a young specialist nicknamed Benz earning his stripes amid thorny durian trees and a very formidable king cobra.
Back in Bang Phlap, the crowd slowly dispersed, the rafters were quiet again, and the morning sun warmed the tiles of Kasorn’s kitchen. She offered a weary smile to the people who helped her—and perhaps said a small prayer for her missing cat. As for the python, it was relocated, alive and well, far from feline temptation and human kitchens.
If you ever find yourself in a similar situation—strange sounds overhead, a shadow on the rafters—remember the Ang Thong playbook: keep calm, keep your distance, and call the professionals. The snakes don’t hold grudges, and neither should we. But a little vigilance? That never hurts.
If the python climbed into my rafters, I’d be praying and grabbing those numbers too. Poor grandma and her cats though. I hope the missing one ran off and not in the snake’s belly.
This number-chasing is absurd when a pet might be dead. Respect the culture, sure, but maybe focus on securing homes and pet enclosures.
You can do both. The numbers are a harmless comfort when you’re scared at 3 a.m.
As someone with chickens in Bang Phlap, snakes come when we leave food and pets out. Lock coops, reduce rodents, and they don’t hang around as much. Don’t blame the snake for being a snake.
Try saying ‘don’t blame the snake’ when it’s your child’s cat. People are scared.
I get it. Prevention beats panic every time though.
Reticulated pythons target whatever prey is easiest, and free-roaming cats fit that bill. They’re not ‘house invaders’ in a moral sense; they follow scent trails and heat signatures. Thailand has good rescue protocols, which saved both people and animal here. The real issue is edge habitat expansion and unsecured waste attracting prey.
Still, a 3.9m snake in your kitchen is nightmare fuel. Credit to the volunteers for staying calm.
Exactly. She did the right thing calling for help instead of swinging a machete.
Props to Lek and Peter. That patience probably saved a lot of blood.
And saved the snake too, which matters. I’ve seen DIY ‘captures’ end with broken spines and bravado selfies.
Those videos make my skin crawl. Not heroic, just cruel.
Also worth noting: pythons are protected wildlife in many contexts, and killing them can carry penalties. The rescue teams usually relocate them to suitable habitat away from villages. It’s a model other countries could copy instead of demonizing urban wildlife.
Preach.
Sorry, if a giant snake comes for my pets, it dies. Rescue teams can arrive after I protect my home.
I’ve handled dozens of pythons with Ang Thong Rescue, and the fastest way to get bitten is to escalate. Back away, close doors if you can, and call us. We usually arrive within minutes, and nobody has to die.
Minutes feel like hours when your cat is gone. Rural folks don’t always have your number on the fridge.
But killing a nonvenomous snake won’t bring your cat back and teaches nothing. Communities can post hotline stickers, hold trainings, and set curfew hours for pets.
There’s data from peri-urban Malaysia showing pet curfews cut snake conflicts by half. It’s not about choosing snakes over pets; it’s designing routines that reduce overlap. Fear is valid, but policy beats panic.
Benz in Trang is a legend, but people forget king cobras are not hunting humans. They were after rodents eating durian seeds and chicks. He treats them like dangerous neighbors, not enemies.
Legend or not, one mistake and you’re dead. Venom is not a documentary stunt.
True, but his technique is methodical: hook control, head distance, and using bags safely. The bigger point is trained responders turn a multi-day farm shutdown into a one-hour operation. That has real economic value during harvest.
Exactly, and the orchard workers could go back to work without panic. Pay the rescue units, they save livelihoods.
I’m the orchard owner in Palian, and we did give a donation after the capture. We had workers refusing night shifts because they kept spotting the cobra. After Benz’s team came, the mood changed immediately.
I love cats, but letting them roam is risky for them and wildlife. Indoor or enclosed patios save birds and, yes, from pythons too. Grandma shouldn’t have to choose between culture and safety.
Easy to say if you don’t live rural where cats keep rats down. Locking them inside means more rodents in the pantry.
You can use sealed bins, snap traps in boxes, and deter rodents without sacrificial cats. My village co-op switched and the rat problem dropped.
From the rescue side, 70% of python-in-house calls happen where food scraps and pet food sit out. Secure waste, elevate animal feed, and close crawl gaps. We don’t mind coming, but we’d rather come less.
Everyone’s ignoring grandma’s bravery. She stayed awake all night to protect her animals with one working hand.
Not gonna lie, I’d play 3-9-0 with that house number too. Laugh if you want, but I’ve seen weirder luck.
It’s not about greed; it’s gratitude for surviving a scare. Numbers are a way we tell the universe we noticed.
Exactly, a little ritual hurts no one. Just don’t step over the cat to buy a ticket.
Reticulated pythons have home ranges that overlap canals and rice fields, and August is peak movement after heavy rain. This is predictable, not a freak event. Municipalities should budget for wildlife response like they do for floods.
Then why are we always surprised? Feels like groundhog day with snakes and panic.
Because memory is short and local governments change. Put the hotlines on utility bills and invest in public messaging.
Imagine reading the bill: ‘Pay water, also don’t pet the snek.’ I’d actually pay on time.
I’d keep that flyer on my fridge.
If you bargain with a python for lottery luck, the python already won.
Or maybe humor kept her calm enough to make the right call. People cope how they cope.
Media loves the ‘monster snake’ headline, but the actual story is a community doing everything right. Respect, rescue, release. Do this for monitor lizards and macaques too.
Good luck telling Facebook not to panic. Fear farm videos get more clicks than quiet competence.
Then let’s make competence trend. Publish the hotline numbers and the response times, not just the fangs.
Worried the missing cat is gone. Please microchip and spay-neuter, and keep them inside at night.
Everyone arguing numbers and cats, but the core point is coexistence. Thailand can lead by normalizing trained response and community science reporting. Map sightings on a local app, and you’ll see patterns for prevention. That’s cheaper than ER visits and dead pets.
What happens to the captured python? Some ‘relocations’ just dump them near other homes.
I saw a release by the canal last month and it just swam toward another village. Felt pointless.
That’s why releases should be coordinated with forestry officials, far from settlements and with habitat. Otherwise it’s musical chairs with snakes.