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.