Product Review: Snake Bite Kits

Alright legends, buckle up — because this one still makes me laugh (and cry a little) every time I think about it.

Once upon a time, back when I was living in a very snake-infested corner of Victoria, life was basically a never-ending game of “don’t step there, that stick might move.” Everyone knew the slithery locals ran the show. They’d sunbake on the roads, slide through the paddocks, and occasionally pop up where you least wanted them — the joys of Australia, right?

So picture this: one sunny weekend at the local markets, my husband and I stumble across a bloke flogging Snake Bite Kits. He’s got the whole sales pitch going, and my husband (who falls for a good practical-sounding gadget every time) goes, “That’s a great idea! Better get some for the kids.” Before I knew it, we were five kits deep at $20 a pop. That’s a casual hundred bucks right there. But hey, peace of mind, right?

From that day on, those little snake bite kits were proudly added to the family’s first aid stash. Because let’s be real — in Australia, the first aid kit isn’t just a nice-to-have, it’s as essential as your kettle. Between snakes, spiders, mozzies, and God knows what else, this country is basically designed to keep you on your toes.

Fast forward a few years. I moved to sunny, tropical Queensland (aka snake central on steroids). If you think Victoria has snakes, Queensland is like: “Hold my beer.” It’s snake season all year round up here. So naturally, when I strapped on my boots and started hiking, I made sure to shove one of our precious, untouched snake bite kits into my pack. Smart. Prepared. Fully equipped.

Or so I thought…

Enter: my dramatic ordeal with old mate Humphrey (yes, the hike where he politely suggested my backpack was heavier than a small car). Back home, I decided to do a full review of my pack — lighten the load, repack smart, maybe even feel like one of those “minimalist hiking pros” on Instagram.

And then… I opened the snake bite kit.

Drumroll, please.

Do you know what was inside this highly recommended, market-bought, snake-saving miracle kit?

A bandage.

Yep. That’s it. Just your regular, bog-standard, nothing-fancy bandage. Not even the good stretchy kind. Just the exact type you’d already find in any $10 chemist-bought first aid kit.

So basically, we’d dropped a whole $100 on five bandages we already owned. I nearly choked. My husband and I had been carting these things around for years, thinking we were the height of snake-preparedness — turns out we’d just been scammed by a bloke with a table at the market.

Moral of the story? Snake bite kits (the dodgy ones, anyway) are a load of crap.

But here’s the thing — a proper snake bite kit is worth having. It just needs to actually contain more than a single, sad bandage. So, let me save you the rookie mistake and spell it out:

What a Real Snake Bite Kit Should Include

• Pressure Bandages – The heavy-duty, reusable, proper ones designed for immobilising bites (not your average band-aid pack filler).

• Emergency Blanket – Keeps the patient warm and reduces shock while you wait for help.

• Permanent Marker – To mark the bite site and record the time of the bite (super important for medics).

• Nitrile Gloves – To protect the first aider — because no one wants extra contamination.

• Gauze Swabs – Optional, but handy for cleaning the bite area if needed.

• Instruction Card – Because let’s face it, in the middle of a panic, your brain will forget first aid training instantly.

• Splint – Sometimes included to immobilise the limb.

• Antiseptic Wipes – For a quick clean if needed.

• Adhesive Tape – To secure your bandages properly.

So yeah, at the end of the day, most of this stuff can be added to your normal first aid kit without wasting a hundred bucks at a market stall. Lesson learned: don’t let “snake fear” blind you to the obvious.

Verdict: Mumma Dingo does not recommend “$20 bandage in a bag” kits.

Buy the good gear, or DIY it with the right essentials.

Your legs (and wallet) will thank you.

$100 later and wiser… Don’t be a mug like me.

Till next bite, Mumma Dingo