Applications and Hognose Snakes

I had signed up for four classes my first semester at Auburn, and of those four, I had failed one, and done so poorly in another that I withdrew before I ended up with a permanent grade.  Despite my making almost all A's the next semester, my father and I decided that it would be best to take some time off from Auburn.  During this year long period, I would attend our local community college in central Florida and take all my core classes as well as some other basic requirement courses.

This left me free to explore volunteer opportunities around our home.  I first considered the Maitland Bird of Prey Center, but that was ruled out when I discovered that the Central Florida Zoo, only 30 minutes from our home, offered internships.

They had 2 internships available.  A College Internship that would allow one to receive college credit for work done, and a Life Experience Internship that was build around those interested in zoo work as a possible career.  I excitedly looked up how to apply, only to discover that I had missed the submission date for the summer internship, and would have to wait for fall.  That turned out to be a blessing though, as it gave me the time to accumulate all the materials required for the application process and put a lot of focus into the quality of my submission. 

My summer, while not spent interning at the zoo, was busy all the same.  I spent countless hours in Florida canoeing in search of alligators to film, I chased black racers in the yard, and dreamed of getting a snake of my own.  At first I begged my father to let me get a ball python, as he had one and I thought it was adorable.  He instead, nudged me towards hognose snakes, and I found that the more I read, the more I became attached to the critters.

It wasn't until a run by Pet Bazaar (to pick up mice and gerbils for my father's snakes) that I completely fell in love with hognose snakes.  They had a baby normal western hognose in the store, and one of the owners was kind enough to pull the little guy out and let me play with him.  Of course the little hognose struck at me within moments of my trying to pet it, and that was really what sold me.  I just -had- to have one of those adorable, small, yet fierce snakes.  I sped home and begged my father who somehow managed to convince me to wait until the National Breeder's Expo in Daytona.

Month's went by, and I spent more and more time on my computer, researching all kinds of snakes and herps in florida.  Wolves had always been my passion as a child, but I found that now, the books I dragged home from the school library were reptile based, instead of canine in nature.

I didn't forget my love of wolves though.  Shortly before the Central Florida Zoo internship submission deadline, I headed down to Naples for a week to volunteer at Shy Wolf Sanctuary.  I made many friends there (some of them were even human!) and really enjoyed being able to get "down and dirty" with the wolves.

Still running on my high from volunteering down in south Florida, I returned back up to the Sanford area to phone calls and interviews with the Central Florida Zoo. 

Despite my confidence at getting the internship, I still couldn't believe it when I finally did.  And it came with a world I could never have imagined.

The Beginning of an Addiction

After the discovery of the black racer at Chewacla State Park, I became obsessed with the outdoors.  Granted, that was something I'd loved ever since childhood, but now it had become more real to me.  I had realized that there were wild animals out there, just waiting to be discovered.

I went almost every weekend to Chewacla, despite the fact that I was coming up on the end of my first spring semester at Auburn and entering into finals.  I felt as if I was on to something, on the cusp of a great discovery or epiphany.  Something that mattered more to me than my studies at that point in time.

Box turtles in a small creek at Chewacla State Park.

I went out one weekend in late April, and found hundreds of eastern box turtles. Enough that I was almost tripping over them as I hiked through the park.  This was amazing to me, and I spent the next week or so obsessing over them.  Finally, I decided I would return to Chewacla, with my camera, field guide, and a small script.  I would find one of these box turtles and film it, spouting out random facts about them, and then uploading the video to the internet, so that people could see it, and learn a little bit about these amazing creatures.  With Steve Irwin's death, I felt we had lost something important on Animal Planet--educational videos.  And while I never dreamed of actually getting my own show, I was desprate to reach people about the turtles, to show the world how neat and amazing they were.  To get people as excited about herps as I was rapidly becoming...

Closer shot of one of the box turtles.

I arrived at the park as early as I could, around 7 in the morning, and waited impatiently for the park ranger to arrive and open the gate.  I couldn't wait to get out there and find the turtles and film them.  I hadn't slept much the night before, and found that I was very tense and hyper--excited about my mission for the day.  I would find this energy to be both a blessing and a curse in future field herping expeditions, in that I would be so excited about what I might see, I would sleep only very little the night before I was to go out, and could think of nothing else.  I would however, be energetic throughout my adventure, and able to handle most any circumstances before becoming tired.

I finally made my way into the park, and started down the path that I hiked every time I ventured out there.  The path was a long but nice one, leading from the swimming area back around to "the waterfall"-a large, pretty, but man-made waterfall.

I had been so sure it would be a great day, full of turtles.  Instead, I hiked for over an hour without finding a single one.  It was if they had all vanished.  I felt dejected, and was getting ready to turn around and head back.  Just a few feet further, and I would throw in the towel.

It was then that my eyes caught something white on the ground, just off the path.  I stumbled over and grabbed it excitedly.  It was a skull, though the jaw was missing.  There were beetles still on it, as well as dirt.  Carefully, I weaved my way down to the creek, and attempted to wash the skull off.  Once finished, I turned around, and my heart stopped.

There, just behind me, was a snake.  I blinked dumbly at it for a moment, and once my brain started working again, I made note of several things.  One, whatever it was, it was venomous.  Two, it was a juvenile, and still very very young.  Three, while it obviously knew I was there, it seemed perfectly content to just sit there.

I flipped through my guide, but could find no snakes that looked like it other than possibly a copperhead.  It had a yellow tip on its tail, and I thought that maybe it could also be a baby rattlesnake of some kind (I laugh hysterically at my early ignorance now).

Of course, being the brilliant college student that I was when faced with such a thing, I did what any other kid would do.

I poked it with a stick.

I gently poked the little snake, watching in fascination.  Eventually it turned to go off, and I grabbed it's tail, pulling it back towards me.  Seeing this little creature in front of me was like seeing a beautiful sunset, and I couldn't let it go just yet.  I wanted to treasure it just a bit longer.

Unknown snake (later identified as a cottonmouth) that I discovered by accident out at Chewacla.

Finally I let the little bugger crawl off, and made my way out of the park, figuring I had pushed my luck enough for one day having "tailed" a venomous snake of some kind.  I called my dad in excitement, but he merely scolded me and asked me to please not kill myself before summer break.  He also informed me that the snake, whatever it was, was not a rattlesnake.

I showed one of the pictures I had captured to various other people and they confirmed that the snake was a copperhead.  It wasn't until a couple months later, while flipping through a book on Florida Snakes, that I found a picture of a young cottonmouth, and realized that I had played with a snake a fair bit more venomous than a copperhead.  The thought was sobering, though it had little affect on my desire to work with herps.  It did however, make me a little more cautious about walking off trails in parks, as I had passed within inches of the snake when going down to the creek to wash off the skull.

Still, that run in with the little snake, a snake I had not even expected to find was only fuel to the fire, and sent me into a mad search for all things herpetological.  It wasn't long after, that I discovered, and began my application, for an internship at the Central Florida Zoo.

A Major Change

I entered Auburn University as an undergrad in Wildlife Sciences Pre-Vet.  This was the default decision for me, as I'd always wanted to be a veterinarian, and had always been more interested in animals of the wildlife heading, then those more commonly known as domesticated.

I was young and naive when starting out, convinced that college would be an extension of my high school.  And while I still missed my high school terribly, I eagerly looked forward to what knowledge my new studies would bring about the natural world around me. 

I became involved in tons of different things, jumping into the School of Forestry and Wildlife's "Wildlife Society" as well as signing up as a volunteer for a local vet clinic, and joining in with the local Southeastern Raptor Center, where I spent my time feeding and cleaning birds in the rehab section.  I was as enthusiastic as I could be, originally at least.  As time went on, my interest began to wane.  I attended the Wildlife Society meetings less and less, and even began to dislike my duties with the birds in rehab.  Nothing was quite as good as I had originally thought.  But the one thing that killed it all for me, was the vet clinic.

I was told, upon the receipt of some bad grades, that as an out of state student, I would never make it in to Auburn's School of Veterinary Medicine.  This was not quite as devastating as I had imagined it would be.  My current work at the local vet clinic had brought to me the relization that I cared too much to ever sucessfully work in a clinic.

Funny, isn't it?  That most people go into such a thing -because- they care about animals.  But what brings you into a field, can also be your ultimate downfall.  To me, I cared so much that it was crippling to my destiny as a veterinarian.  After crying over one too many nameless unknown dogs, I withdrew my volunteer services, and began to explore other opportunities.

Around this time, I acquired a new book.  Not an uncommon thing for me.  As an avid reader, I quite often spend money on books when I should be putting it towards more important things, like food.

This book that came into my possession was "Steve and Me" by Terri Irwin.  I had been a longtime childhood fan of Irwin, and this new insight into his life could not simply be passed by.  During the upheaval in my life of realizing I no longer wanted to be a vet, I devoured the book, reading and re-reading through its pages, looking for some kind of sign, or message.  I concluded that the thrill I felt just reading about Steve's adventures was a sign, and I decided to remain in Wildlife (a subject I still thought to be useful) but dropped the Pre-Vet.  I saw this major as being more relaxing now, since I no longer had to worry about having a 4.0 GPA.

Shortly there after, I went out to the local state park, Chewacla, with a friend.  We were hiking to the waterfall, or at least, I was hiking.  The friend was stuck on the phone with her then boyfriend who was panicked over getting lost on the way to work.  As we marched along the path, my eyes caught sight of something black and shiny on a log.  I immediately identified it as a black racer, a snake I hadn't seen since my childhood in Florida.  Quickly and excitedly, I reached out to pluck the snake from its perch.  In a way, I succeeded.  I latched on to its tail as the snake darted into cover.  Concerned of injuring the animal, I released it, and watched sadly as it disappeared.

Luck was with me however.  We decided to stay in the area for a while, as it was one of the sparse places my friend could get a few bars of cell phone service.  So I crouched on the ground and waited, thinking about the snake.  Not ten minutes had gone by, when I heard a rustling in the grass beside me.  I was careful not to move....I think I barely even breathed, as the black raced not only emerged back into view, but came out onto the path just in front of me.  I waited, no longer breathing, until I was sure I could grab it.  I was almost dizzy, blood pounded through my head as adrenaline had its way with my system.  Finally, when I was sure I could grab it, I reached out again, and picked up the wily serpent.

I was exhilarated, I was flying.  Just by picking up this snake, I was higher than a kite.  It was the greatest feeling in the world.  I urged my friend off the phone with her hopeless boyfriend long enough to nab a picture of me and my 'amazing' capture.  I don't think I had ever felt so alive in my entire life.

The black racer I caught in Chewacla.

This was not the last of my travels around Chewacla, but it provided me with a major turning point of realization.  The idea that there were herps, right there in my backyard, things that Stevo lived for.  I wasn't quite set on reptiles and amphibians, but the black racer marked the beginning of an addiction that would soon take over my life.

Introduction

I stared dumbly ahead of me, not really sure that it was finally happening.  The gila twitched behind the glass and moved one leg listlessly.  One of the beaded lizards caught sight of me moving beyond its cage and gave me what appeared to be a very annoyed glare.  I took a few deep breaths, trying to steady my now racing nerves.  I could do this, this was easy.  It was what I'd always wanted.

Some of you may know me, but most of you probably don't.  For starters, I'm currently a Zoology major at Auburn University.  I ended up on this track after 6 months spent interning in the Reptile Department at the Central Florida Zoo, where I learned to fall in love with reptiles, and most especially, snakes.


My attraction didn't stop at volunteering though, no, it came in and made itself at home in my personal life as well.  Mostly in the form of hognose snakes, though also in the form of an older, but very sweet ball python.

I guess you could say I was always the crazy kid.  The one who rolled on the floor with dogs at other peoples houses, and the one who spent almost all their free time outside, chasing and catching lizards and snakes.  I haven't changed much, not really.  I still catch lizards and snakes (and frogs and toads) but now I know a lot more about what I'm catching, and how to handle it.

With only a slight hesitation I reached over and unclipped the cage, pulling the door open, and reaching shakily in with the tongs.  There were only two gilas in the cage, and both were out within plain sight and easy reach.  I stretched the tongs out, and grabbed the first one.  With a grunt, I supported the tongs with my second hand, and tried very hard not to drop the venomous lizard.  It was heavy, heavier than I had anticipated, and with the weight of the tongs, it took everything I had just to turn and place the lizard in the spare tub behind me.  Once that task was successfully completed, I turned back to the remaining gila and prepared to move it to the tub as well.

Some people have jokingly nicknamed me Steve.  While the name doesn't really fit (I'm a girl) it is still appreciated.  I know a lot of people out there have no respect for Steve Irwin.  Whether they think he abused his son, or that he blatantly manhandled animals, they have that one thing in common.  A strong dislike of a man who did a lot for conservation.

I loved him as a child, and still do today.  I believe Terri when she said that he seemed to have a way with animals, and I see his death as a tragedy to the animal world.  Or at least as a great disruptor of Animal Planet's viewer count.  Like I said though, not everyone feels this way.  This dislike, placed upon him by many who one would assume to be fans, is just the tip of the ice burg, the very beginning of struggles and disputes in the herpetological community.  Debates that, as a student in Zoology looking to specialize in herps, I face almost everyday.

So I bring to you the reader, this blog, in hopes of giving just one more commonly silenced opinion in this unusually competitive field.  I'm not here to make a difference, or prove a point, merely to make a statement, and share with you an amazing world that has captured my heart, mind, and soul.

Job now done, and lizards safely contained, I moved toward the actual duty at hand.  Cleaning their cage and refreshing their water.  I was still incredibly jumpy from my first contact in officially working venomous, but the mundane task of cleaning gave my over-excited self a chance to calm down.  There were however, 4 more cages to clean, and the adrenaline rush would surely return for each and every one.  Still, I had begged for this, wanted this for so long, that I most certainly wasn't going to let a little stress run me off.  Besides, in a way, the adrenaline was what we lived for.