Smuggler with bag full of venomous viper snakes stopped by India customs
Mumbai Customs officers said they seized a checked bag on Sunday from a passenger arriving from Thailand.
Advertisement
A closer inspection of the bag revealed three spider-tailed horned viper snakes, five Asian leaf turtles, and 44 Indonesian pit viper snakes.
Photos show the smuggled reptiles after the discovery, including a tray full of turtles and a bucket of venomous blue and green snakes.
According to Australian Geographic, pit vipers can be found in blue and green on the Lesser Sunda Islands of Indonesia.
Blue pit vipers are some of the rarest of their species, according to the outlet.
Advertisement
This isn't the first – or last – walk on the wild side for customs officers in India.
4 Mumbai Customs officers said they seized a checked bag on Sunday from a passenger arriving from Thailand.
Mumbai Customs-III
4 A spider-tailed horned viper was seized.
Mumbai Customs-III
4 Photos show the smuggled reptiles after the discovery, including a tray full of turtles and a bucket of venomous blue and green snakes.
Mumbai Customs-III
Advertisement
4 Blue pit vipers are some of the rarest of their species, according to the outlet.
Mumbai Customs-III
Photos of most seizures by Mumbai customs show mostly drugs and gold, but in February, officers also stopped the smuggling of five Siamang Gibbons.
The monkeys are an endangered species, according to the International Union for Conservation of Nature.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Business Insider
2 hours ago
- Business Insider
I gave up my US passport and changed my name — all for my love of basketball and Korea
This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Lee Seung-jun, a 47-year-old retired professional basketball player who represented South Korea internationally. His words have been edited for length and clarity. A mix of my American dad's height and my Korean mom's identity took me places — literally. I was born in the US and grew up as Eric Lee Sandrin, but after moving to Korea and giving up my US passport, I became Lee Seung-jun. I went on to play professional basketball and on the Korean national team. Both sides of my family shaped me in different ways. Settling down in Seattle My dad is 6-foot-7 and played basketball through college, then later for the Army team. He met my mom while stationed in Korea. After completing his service, they moved to Washington state to settle down. My dad loved the mountains, and my mom liked being closer to Korea. My younger brother and I were raised in the suburbs of Seattle, although we often spent summers in Korea. Over the years, we started bringing other members of the family to the US, my grandmother, uncles, and aunts. Little by little, almost all of them ended up moving to the Seattle area, opening up small businesses like grocery stores and karaoke bars, similar to other Korean immigrants in the area. In between cultures At school, we were usually the only Asian kids in class. At home, everyone looked like us. It created a constant push-pull: Korean at home, American outside. At school, kids would say, "Are you guys Chinese?" And we'd say, "No, it's a different country." And they would say, "Oh, Japanese?" When we visited my dad's family in Michigan, our cousins didn't know what we were; they hadn't seen people like us in the Midwest. My mom worried about prejudice, so we didn't grow up speaking Korean. She wanted us to be American first, even as she struggled to learn English herself. Court vs. classroom I started shooting hoops when I was around six. In our early teens, we'd just head to the park and play. It wasn't until high school, when coaches started sending letters and offering scholarships, that I thought, "Wow, I might actually get to play basketball in school." I ended up enrolling at the University of Portland, and later, after a knee injury, transferring to Seattle Pacific University — I played for both of the schools' teams. After graduating, I got a teaching certificate and lined up a job teaching at a high school. Change of plans Then I chose basketball instead. My mom thought I was throwing it all away. My brother was planning to be a lawyer, and she had dreams of bragging about us to her coffee group. But by then, basketball had become my life, my brother's too. When I didn't make it to the NBA, I started building an international career, including a brief stint with the Harlem Globetrotters. I was still chasing the NBA dream when a Korean agent suggested I try out for teams in Korea. I suggested that my brother go first. He loved it and told me, "You have to come." So I did. To play for the South Korean team, I had to give up my US citizenship. My dad, a military vet, wasn't happy. He reminded me that family members had died fighting for the US. He thought it was rash. But after we talked it through, he understood. For me, it was about finding a better opportunity, just like his grandparents had done when they came from Italy. Restarting in Korea When I arrived in Seoul, I had just turned 30. At first, Korea felt familiar. The faces and food reminded me of my mom. But once I got deeper into the culture, I realized how different I was. I didn't speak the language and hadn't done military service. Basketball practice in Korea felt like military training. We practiced four times a day: 6 a.m., 10 a.m., 4 p.m., and 8 p.m. That's also when I started realizing just how many unspoken rules there are in the Korean language and culture. I remember one of my first practices, I walked in, sat down, and started lacing up my shoes. I was sitting in the head coach's chair, but I had no idea that was a big faux pas. So I was sitting there when the coach walked in. I went, "Oh, what's up?" I didn't even greet him properly. I didn't know any of this stuff. The whole team was like: "How can he be so rude? How does he not know this?" That moment really pushed me to start learning the unspoken rules and study the language. I eventually changed my name to Seung-jun, a name crafted with my mom's help. It means "beautiful victory," and links to my brother's name Dong‑jun — he grew up as Daniel. When I was growing up in the States, my grandma used to talk to us for hours, but we could hardly understand her. After learning to speak Korean, it was like meeting my grandma for the first time. I could actually talk to her and understand what she was saying. Off the court, still in the game In 2017, I retired, although I knew I wanted to stay in Korea. It felt like home. The healthcare system is amazing. My wife, who's half-Korean, half-Romanian, is also a basketball player and is still playing. A year after retiring from basketball, before my brother eventually got a green card and moved back to the States, we started Prism Hoops Academy. The youth sports company is focused on making sports fun for kids. In Korea, education is intense and regimented. Our goal was to create a space where kids could just play. I'm now running the school with Im Won‑jun, another Korean American who, funnily enough, also grew up in Seattle. We offer basketball, soccer, and chess. It's not about drills or perfection; our goal is just helping kids build positive memories. Coaching young kids has become a real passion of mine, and my plan is to go back to school for a higher degree in education or administration. So it looks like my mom will get her teacher after all.
UPI
10 hours ago
- UPI
The hidden dangers of feeding wild animals
Researchers at the University of California San Diego say feeding wild elephants can lead to serious harm. File Photo by Bill Greenblatt/UPI | License Photo Feeding wild elephants might seem kind or exciting, but a new study warns it can lead to serious harm. Researchers at the University of California San Diego say that giving food to wild animals -- especially elephants -- can change their behavior in dangerous ways. "Many people, especially foreign tourists, think Asian elephants are tame and docile, like domestic pets," lead author Shermin de Silva, a conservation scientist and professor of biological sciences, said in a UCSD news release. "They don't realize these are formidable wild animals and try to get too close in order to take photographs or selfies, which can end badly for both parties," she added. The study, published in the journal Ecological Solutions and Evidence, looked at 18 years of data from elephant tourism areas in Sri Lanka and India. In Sri Lanka's Udawalawe National Park, researchers found that dozens of elephants had learned to "beg" for food near fences and tourist vehicles. One male elephant, nicknamed Rambo, became a local celebrity for this behavior. The impact? Tragic. Several people were killed or injured in elephant encounters, the news release said. At least three elephants were killed, and some animals ate plastic bags or other waste while trying to get food. In India's Sigur region, researchers tracked 11 male elephants who were fed by people. Four of animals later died, likely because of humans. "Food-conditioned animals can become dangerous, resulting in the injury and death of wildlife, people or both," the researchers wrote. "These negative impacts counteract potential benefits," they added. Feeding wild elephants may cause them to lose their natural foraging skills, especially if they start relying on sugary snacks or processed food, researchers said. It may also raise the risk of disease spreading between people and animals. While most tourists mean well, experts say the best thing to do is never feed wild animals, no matter how safe it seems. Feeding animals might feel like helping a friend, the researchers explained. "But this encourages wild animals to seek food from people, attracting them to areas that can put themselves or people at risk," de Silva said. "It can be a conduit for disease transfer between species," she said. "Such feeding can also cause animals to lose their ability to forage for themselves if the behavior becomes prevalent, especially with young animals." More information The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service has more on the potential harm in feeding wildlife. Copyright © 2025 HealthDay. All rights reserved.
Hamilton Spectator
2 days ago
- Hamilton Spectator
Tradition and faith meet at the coast in Spain every July to celebrate the patron of sailors
ESTEPONA, Spain (AP) — Silence falls on the beach in the former fishing village of Estepona as the sun sets over Spain's southern coast. Barefoot men in white shirts carry a seven-foot statue of the Virgen del Carmen , or Our Lady of Mount Carmel, adorned with flowers, across the sand. Children climb on their parents' shoulders, while others record on their phones, standing waist-deep in the sea. Offshore, boats filled with families and friends await the Virgin's arrival. As the statue reaches the shore, more than 90 men, many from fishing families, lift her onto traditional boats and she sets out to sea. Hundreds of vessels, from jet skis to paddleboards and fishing boats, join the procession chanting and singing, in their belief that the Virgin blesses the waters. Every July 16, coastal communities across Spain honor the Virgin, saint of sailors and protector of those at sea, who was also named official patron of the Spanish Navy in 1901. It is one of the myriad Marian titles venerated by the Catholic faithful. In Estepona, once a humble fishing village on the Malaga coast, it's the most anticipated day of the year. 'Some people won't swim until the Virgin enters the water,' says Isabel Moreno, secretary of the Hermandad del Carmen in Estepona, the Catholic religious brotherhood that organizes the event. 'Everyone wants to be close to her. She protects our fishermen, our neighbors, our visitors, all of us.' It began in Estepona in 1962, when six sailors acquired the statue to bring this Catholic tradition closer to their town. Since then, it's grown into a full-day celebration that starts with an outdoor Mass, sea-themed games, and — this year for the first time — a women's boat race. One popular contest called 'cucaña' challenges young men to walk across a greased wooden beam suspended from a boat to grab a flag before falling into the water. The statue leaves its chapel in the evening and is carried through the streets as residents throw flower petals, sing traditional songs known as coplas, and call her 'estrella de los mares' — Spanish for star of the seas. She sails along the coast, then returns to land before being brought back to her chapel. 'This used to be a celebration only for sailors,' says Alfonso Ramírez, head of the brotherhood and son of one of its founders. 'Now it belongs to everyone.' In recent years, he says, organizers have worked to make the town feel included, regardless of fishing roots. Estepona, like many Spanish coastal towns, has been transformed by tourism . In summer, its population doubles from 78,000 to nearly 160,000. Artisan fishing has declined, say captains at the maritime club, unable to compete with industrial fleets and increasingly threatened by invasive species like Asian seaweed , which has severely impacted the country's marine biodiversity for years. To make up for the loss of income from fishing, many boats that once caught anchovies now carry tourists instead. But for one night, each year, Estepona returns to its roots, with faith and memory filling the streets and the seaside. Past midnight, Ana Ruiz, 86, sits outside her home in one of Estepona's oldest neighborhoods. She watches the procession return to the small chapel where the Virgin will rest until next year . 'We were all fisherfolk and had a humble life,' says Ruiz, whose late husband carried the Virgin for 33 years. 'Now my neighbors are all foreigners. But we want them to love our Virgin too.' ___ Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP's collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.
