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.