Why Chinese farmers refuse to give up snake farming

(Edited and refined by Bai Kelei, with the assistance of AI translation.)

More than 10,000 cobras and rat snakes slither and coil around a snake farm on the outskirts of Qinzhou, in China’s Guangxi autonomous region. Over the past decade, owner Qin Yongfu (pseudonym) has been bitten by venomous snakes, suffered financial losses and, in recent years, faced increasingly frequent torrential rain. Nonetheless, he remains in the trade.

Qin told Lianhe Zaobao, “Many people cannot accept snake farming, but for those who need to support their families, the risk is nothing.”

Snake farmers such as Qin are not uncommon in Guangxi. Known as China’s leading province for snake farming, Guangxi has developed the industry since the 1980s, aided by its warm climate and cave-filled terrain. In 2025, more than 30 million snakes were farmed there. Encompassing breeding, processing and medicinal applications, the niche industry is estimated to be worth tens of billions of RMB (10 billion RMB is about US$1.49 billion), yet it has remained largely out of public view for a long time.

That changed recently when a flood brought Guangxi’s snake industry into the spotlight. On 6 July, a snake farm in Dengwei village, Hengzhou, was destroyed by flooding caused by torrential rain. About 900 snakes, including venomous ones, escaped. Chinese media reported that one villager died after being bitten, while others were injured.

The accident raised concerns about safety oversight in the snake industry. It also made many people aware that this seemingly obscure and potentially hazardous form of specialist farming supports the livelihoods of many rural families.

A significant niche industry

Why farm snakes, especially venomous ones? There are practical reasons. Guangxi has a tradition of snake farming, while conventional agriculture offers limited returns and jobs are scarce in rural towns. Raising snakes has therefore become a way for some farmers to supplement their income.

Qin explained that, compared with conventional poultry farming, snake farming requires less space, allowing farmers to make use of vacant village houses. At the same time, as the authorities tighten environmental requirements, conventional livestock farming faces more stringent environmental impact assessments, making snake farming a more viable option.

Many farmers therefore took up snake farming as a sideline. Qin said it can generate substantial income when market conditions are favourable. “1,000 or so snakes can fetch between 100,000 and 150,000 RMB, and they take about a year to raise... That is better than leaving home to do casual work for a year or two.”

Over the years, stories of people making their fortunes in the snake industry have emerged from time to time. Wei Jiarong (pseudonym) previously ran a snake farm in Guigang, Guangxi, before shifting his focus to trading the livestock in 2026. He said he knew a snake farmer who imported foreign species for crossbreeding, successfully developing new breeds and opening up new markets. The farmer went on to make 30 million RMB in three years.

Zhan Shaohua, an associate professor of sociology at Nanyang Technological University (NTU) who studies rural China issues, said specialist farming industries such as snake rearing play a significant role in rural economic development.

He explained that many rural Chinese households depend on multiple sources of income. Besides farming crops and taking on paid work, livestock rearing can provide additional income, reduce household financial risk and absorb surplus labour.

Across rural China, specialist farming extends far beyond snakes. From centipedes in Hubei and scorpions in Hebei to lizards in Henan and camels in Xinjiang, different regions have developed unconventional, and sometimes hazardous, forms of farming suited to local conditions, targeting niche markets such as traditional Chinese medicine and health products. Many local governments view these industries as a means of raising farmers’ incomes and developing county-level economies, supporting them with subsidies or farming expertise.

Zhan said such specialist farming generally targets niche markets. “As long as there is a certain level of demand, the returns may be higher than those from conventional farming... It is seen as an important route to prosperity.”

Market risks and natural disasters scarier than snake bites

However, the floods in Guangxi also exposed the risks lurking in snake farming and other specialist livestock industries, the most obvious being the danger posed by the animals themselves. The snakes that escaped included venomous ones that even experienced farmers are wary of.

Qin shared that he had been bitten by cobras twice. He “felt intense pain and dizziness” and rushed to hospital for antivenom. Fortunately, local hospitals have well-established emergency treatment procedures for such cases.

Nevertheless, he considers this a relatively minor concern. Like many other farmers, Qin believes that the safety risks of snake farming are largely manageable. He explained that he takes precautions such as wearing thick rubber boots and snake-resistant gloves before handling snakes.

NTU’s Zhan said the risks of specialist farming stemmed largely from heavy market dependence. Demand for such farmed species is generally limited, and prices can easily fall when the number of farmers and the supply increase.

Closely linked to this is policy risk. 2020 marked a major turning point for Guangxi’s snake industry, when China’s National People’s Congress adopted a decision dubbed “the strictest-ever ban on wildlife consumption”. It was aimed at prohibiting the illegal wildlife trade and ending the indiscriminate consumption of wild animals.

The new rules forced snake businesses that had previously supplied the reptiles as food to pivot towards medicinal uses and the broader health and wellness sector. A number of smaller, loosely managed farms were eliminated, leaving the industry with more than 300 sizeable enterprises.

Qin recalled that his profits nearly halved after the market for snake meat disappeared. Even so, he considers the overall income from snake farming relatively stable. Having been in the trade for more than a decade, he has “developed an attachment to it, which is why he carried on”.

The floods also highlighted the vulnerability of specialist farming to natural disasters. NTU’s Zhan noted that operators generally invest heavily in facilities. “For example, a farmer may have to invest between 100,000 and 200,000 RMB to rear bullfrogs or turtles, often with borrowed money. If the livestock are swept away by floodwaters, the financial impact can be considerable.”

Why continue raising snakes in the face of so many challenges? For many farmers, there may simply be no better alternative.

Qin shared that he had tried changing tracks, but his forays in turtle farming and food and beverage both failed. With few local job opportunities, he eventually returned to snake farming. He said ruefully, “There simply isn’t a better job. If there were, I would also want to work in another industry.”

Balancing safety with local livelihoods 

The snake escape exposed shortcomings in risk management within specialist farming. With extreme weather events becoming more frequent, balancing farmers’ livelihoods with public safety has become a thorny governance issue.

NTU’s Zhan said some specialist farming industries had grown sufficiently for the government to further tighten safety and risk controls. These could include drawing up contingency plans for floods, fires and other disasters, as well as conducting public safety campaigns. Once specialist farming is recognised as a lawful industry, agricultural insurance schemes could also be introduced to reallocate risks and reduce farmers’ losses.

He added, “Regulatory policies are bound to be less developed at the outset. Many specialist farming industries began on a small scale. It was only as they gradually expanded that the government began paying attention and introduced support policies.”

Snake trader Wei believes snake escapes can largely be prevented if farming facilities and management practices are up to standard.

He suggested that the latest accident might have occurred because the farmers neglected escape-prevention measures to cut costs. “Some facilities were originally used for raising pigs. Only a few mesh bags were added before they were used to raise snakes instead.”

Wei added, “If snakes are kept indoors, they should be enclosed with wire mesh that can be opened only with a zip. Add a mesh bag to the setup and the snakes cannot escape even if the entire farm collapses.”

Zheng Fengtian, a professor at Renmin University of China’s School of Agricultural Economics and Rural Development, said the authorities are certain to tighten controls over snake farming, particularly by establishing a climate early-warning system for specialist farming industries. Emphasising the practical benefits of such farming, he said, “We should not impose a blanket ban… Those in the industry depend on it for their livelihoods.”

This article was first published in Lianhe Zaobao as "洪水揭开百亿蛇业 中国乡村特色养殖的生计与风险考验”.

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