Decline of Snake Populations in Kashmir Linked to Human Activity

New Delhi, India Aug 27, 2026 ALN: Nisar Itoo stands on a concrete bridge in Hassanoor village of Anantnag and points to tyre marks crisscrossing the road.

“We used to see snakes here every day,” he said. “Now, maybe one in a year.”

Villagers here say snakes that once slithered across this road are now rarely seen, a change they link to expanding orchards, pesticides, and traffic, even as rescuers in Srinagar report more snake encounters than ever.

Nisar, who has lived in Hassanoor since before proper roads reached the village, remembers walking to school while his parents warned him to watch out for snakes on the way.

Now, he said, pesticide runoff and household waste from orchards and homes flows into the water under the bridge, eroding the habitat.

Hassanoor and Mythology

Older tales invoke Zainuddin Wali of Aishmuqam, the saint whose shrine overlooks the landscape. Residents repeat that he once ordered snakes and scorpions not to harm humans unless attacked.

Many insist snakes here have “never killed anyone and rarely bit someone,” despite the presence of venomous species like the Levantine viper, locally called Gunas or Puhur, which can cause severe necrosis and bleeding disorders.

That belief sits uneasily with everyday practice. Snakes are still often treated as enemies. Killing one can be seen as a good deed, a way to protect children and livestock. On orchard paths, near irrigation channels, and around homes, some people strike first and ask questions later.

South Kashmir and Forests

“Three or four years ago, I would have argued that some people just don’t notice the change,” said Muhammad Altaf, a forest ranger from south Kashmir, in an interview. “But now it is everywhere. The vanishing.”

Altaf said snakes have not only moved closer to human settlements but have also disappeared from wild spaces where they were once common. He links this to habitat fragmentation, agriculture, and human expansion, but also to the quiet, unrecorded deaths that happen when a snake is spotted near a home or an orchard.

Srinagar and the Wider Kashmir

Just over an hour away, the story is different. Wildlife SOS, one of South Asia’s largest rescue organisations, has documented a considerable increase in snake sightings across parts of the Valley, including species not previously considered native to J&K.

Aaliya Mir, Jammu and Kashmir Programme Head for Wildlife SOS, said her team has been rescuing more snakes in Srinagar than before, many in residential areas near the Zabarwan range, according to the organisation’s monthly rescue summaries.

According to Wildlife SOS’ monthly rescue summaries, the J&K team handled 21 reptile rescues in May last year, including Himalayan trinket snakes, Levantine vipers, and Indian rat snakes. In August that year, the team attended to 20 rescues across the region. In May the following year, rescuers pulled two mating pairs of snakes from kitchen gardens in Awantipora and Wathora, underlining how often snakes are now turning up in human spaces.

In an interview, Mir said deliberate killing of snakes happens widely in Kashmir. “In a lot of places, people still see snakes as a threat or enemies that must be removed,” she said. “Some areas now rarely have certain species because they have been killed off over time. This has been happening for a very long time.”

Her team tries to calm people, give instructions on what to do and what not to do, and encourage villagers to rely on professional expertise instead of killing snakes themselves. But the impulse to strike first remains strong, especially in orchard belts and rural pockets where myth, memory, and fear shape everyday decisions.

Across the Valley, the story of snakes is no longer just about habitat loss or roadkill. Aaliya says it is about how people see them, and how they are spoken about in homes and orchards. In some places, rare snakes are no longer found because they have been killed off over time. In others, like Hassanoor, the reptiles that once formed part of the background of daily life are thinning out, leaving behind a landscape that feels quieter and, in some ways, more fragile.

The Anantnag forest division did not respond to questions about plans for wildlife signage or monitoring on the Hassanoor bridge, where no sign warns drivers to slow down and no government noticeboard acknowledges this as a wildlife crossing.

“If this thing is not controlled in the area, then my grandchild will need to be told that once upon a time this area had snakes, but we won’t have anything to show them practically,” Nisar said.