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The Reptile Man
I received
a phone call from a middle school teacher named Scott Petersen who was interested in buying a pair of snakes for his classroom.
Since he lived in the High Desert, I didn’t mind delivering the snakes personally. After I dropped them off, I would
be heading towards Highway 247, an excellent road on which to catch rattlesnakes in the evening. Scott’s eyes opened
wide with excitement as I handed him his Boas with brilliant red patterns on the lower third of their bodies. He was full
of questions, and I was more than happy to answer them. Scott asked if he could ride along on the hunt, and I gladly accepted
since there were few people I knew who would have anything to do with a truck carrying deadly rattlesnakes! We didn’t
have much luck in the High Desert, so we headed south to Palm Springs. The road I had in mind was called White Water Canyon,
and is well known in the reptile community worldwide. Driving back down the canyon we saw the headlights of a car stopped
in the middle of the road. Two men were examining something on the ground. We walked over to see what they had discovered.
It was a Mojave Rattlesnake, a species not found in this area. I had a feeling they were trying to pull a fast one on us when
all of a sudden one of the men stooped over the rattler and picked it up with his bare hand! I thought this guy was either
crazy or a greenhorn who was about to die. After we talked a bit, we were told they had removed the venom ducts from the snake,
and it was harmless. From the looks of the head of the snake, I would have to say they did more damage to the rattler than
good. With a little finesse, Scott and I were able to talk the man out of his snake, and I took it home. Within a month, the
rattlesnake died, and my newfound collecting friend and I performed a necropsy on the rattler to find out exactly what had
been done to it. The dead snake’s head was full of silk sutures that had been haphazardly placed between the venom sacs
and the fang. We knew the principle of the surgery was sound, but the execution was sloppy at best. The Mojave Rattler was
set aside for later study, and I began to tell Scott about a fellow from my workplace who had spoken of performing a reptile
presentation over the weekend. I had kept reptiles as pets for many years and thought this may be something I would like to
try myself. One night while speaking with Scott at the dinner table, we came up with a plan to move north and start our new
reptile presentation business. After a year, we found there would not be enough work for both of us in Oregon, so Scott moved
to Washington to continue his efforts. Since 1991, we have helped change the perceptions of hundreds of thousands of people
to a more favorable view concerning the reptiles of our world.
THE KING AND
I
I was in a hurry. A long day lay ahead for my traveling friends and I. I loaded the reptiles into my station wagon
and headed off to Eugene for a reptile show I was providing for an elementary school. I stopped for breakfast in Woodburn,
and then headed South on I-5 with nary a thought of what was about to happen.
As I was merrily
listening to one of my favorite songs on the radio, I heard one of the container lids fly open making a loud slapping sound
as they hit the other boxes on both sides.
I knew immediately
the mistake I had made while loading in such a hurried fashion. You see, there was one particular snake that was smart enough
to know that if it pushed hard enough on the upper side of the lid in just the right place, it could escape. And escape it
did while we were traveling sixty miles per hour on the freeway.
Looking into
the rear view mirror I saw a splendid sight. A sight I have been able to witness on a daily basis for the past 16 years. I
am still in awe of this beautiful majestic pose, which at the moment was hooded up directly behind my head! The twelve-foot
King Cobra was staring directly into my eyes through the mirror with his mouth open, and his tongue slowly flicking the air.
The King Cobra
has always been one of my most prized snakes in my collection. I had been working with him on a daily basis for many years
and knew his particular behavior when confronted. Kings are similar to people in that they all have variable temperaments.
I have worked with kings so friendly, you could hang them around your neck for a nice walk. I have also worked with many that
would chase me around the back yard for a couple laps before they tired.
Knowing this
king was not highly aggressive, I decided to ignore him until I could find an exit to right my mistake of placing his traveling
container on top.
All was fine
until I noticed a car next to me with four terrified occupants pointing, and what appeared to be screaming at me as we continued
down the highway. I didn’t want to turn my head to acknowledge them, for the movement of my head would have initiated
a strike from the king that was still hooded up just one foot behind me.
At the time
I felt my only choice was to speed up and take the next exit before the driver next to me fainted or had a heart attack. Their
eyes seemed to be popping out of their heads with fright. It made me chuckle a bit as I pulled off the freeway to place my
friend back into his container, and set another box on top to prevent such a spectacle from happening again. I still wonder
on occasion what those four individuals think about the King and I on that exciting day.
DRIVE BY
Friday
night! I looked forward to this all week. I had made my plans to travel North to Barstow, and then make my way South East
towards Blyth, and Palm Springs. You see, the high desert cools down much earlier than the low desert, and I didn’t
wish to miss the snake run when it happened.
Snakes are similar to fish in that they tend to travel at certain times, and temperature. On Highway 247 I found a
nice Panamint Speckled Rattlesnake that had the end of his tail hit by a car, then I headed south into the low desert.
As my odometer hit the 350-mile mark for the night, I saw a dim light about a mile off. As I approached, I found my
friend, Reggie, standing on a small bridge over the California aqueduct. The aqueduct is a cement waterway used for funneling
water to farms in the desert.
It was about 3am, and we were having such a great time catching catfish, bass, and carp that we hardly noticed the
one hundred degree heat that surrounded us in the darkness of the desert.
Reggie alerted me to a car off in the distance traveling at high speed. It rounded a corner and headed straight down
the road towards where we stood. Flashes of light could be seen exiting the passenger side window as their speed steadily
increased. Sound moves at a much slower speed then does light, so the sound of the gunshots did not reach us until after we
saw the bright white flames that lit up the horizon.
The car was traveling well over one hundred miles per hour as it crossed the bridge. Since we had little time to run,
and nowhere to run to, we jumped over the railing of the bridge and hung on while a steady stream of bullets flew over our
heads.
You might be surprised to find that this was not the first time I had been shot at in the remote
desert of California, and it was not the last time either!
NASTY CERASTE
Crotalus ceraste is a type of small rattlesnake that inhabits the American Southwest. I obtained a small male about
15 inches long that had had his venom removed. He was very relaxed when being handled, and would even gently take a small
pre-frozen and thawed mouse from my fingertips. Being nocturnal by nature, all he liked to do was ride along with me on my
daily travels in my shirt pocket. It became his resting cave until the evening rolled about, then he would slowly pop his
small head over the edge to see if all was safe for a nice crawl about.
Nasty took
a trip with me to the beach one day. It was spring, and the temperature was perfect.
Sand and Sidewinders go together like pancakes and syrup, so I walked behind him as he slithered about
exploring all the unfamiliar smells along the way. As we met an occasional visitor on the beach, it gave me an opportunity
talk with them about my unusual hobby.
One day I made the mistake of taking Nasty to see a movie with my wife. It was dark in the theater so
he wasted no time exiting my pocket wanting to crawl amongst the hundreds of people who were watching the movie. After stuffing
him back into my pocket for the fourth time, I decided to zip him up in my wife’s purse to keep him safe for the time
being.
I suppose my greatest observation concerning Crotalus cerastes is that they don’t seem to share
the same love of the movie Terminator as I do.
PITY THE KITTY
My brother Dan liked to keep reptiles on occasion. When he desired to keep one for a while I would supply him with
what he was interested in at the time, and then he would return the snake or lizard when his curiosity was satisfied.
One such loan
was a ten-foot Burmese Python. Dan had built a very large cage in his front room that gave the python plenty of room to move
about. And move it did! This snake loved to climb up the glass to a height of about five feet. Eventually the snake would
start to wobble back and forth until it finally fell to the left of the cage and hit the door with a loud thud!
Dan’s
wife owned a cat that loved to sit in front of the serpent’s den and intently watch the snake as it slowly crawled back
and forth throughout the day.
Dan was not
aware that each time the snake would hit the door with it’s body, the screws that held the latch in place were beginning
to come out!
I was peacefully
sitting at home with a dog in my lap when the phone rang. Between the screams and sobs over the phone I could decipher just
enough of the conversation to know that I needed to drive there fast if I was to save the cat from certain doom.
The cat had
been sitting in its usual spot near the door of the cage when the latch finally broke. The snake landed on the living room
floor just inches away from kitty.
Pythons have heat-sensing pits, which are
similar to rattlesnakes. Combine that with the snake’s acute sense of smell, and they rarely miss the mark as they strike.
I arrived
too late. Although the cat had put up a noble fight, all that I found was a large snake with a very familiar looking lump
in the middle section of his body. Yes, my brother is still married, but there are no more large pythons allowed anywhere
near their home. I would have to say that in this case, curiosity really did kill the cat.
YELLOW JACKETS & ELEPHANTS
Our
visitors had arrived. It was a 900-mile journey from their home in Southern California. We were happy to see them! David and
Robby had never been to Oregon, or the backcountry for that matter, and it was time to have some fun on the farm. Our first
stop was an old storage building to hunt for a rat or two with my newly acquired lever action BB gun. On the way to the hayloft
in the barn, we also visited the chickens and pigs before climbing the hay bales to within a few feet of the ceiling. We rested
and caught up on the past. It was not long before Robby had lodged his right leg between the hay bales and let out a scream
that sent the pigs out to the back 20 for cover. As he pulled his leg from the hay, we figured out quickly what had happened.
Robby had stepped directly into a nest of yellow jackets that were intent on revenge for the destruction of their abode. I
was very familiar with yellow jackets, so I was the first to leap to the ground and head for the house knowing these ornery
wasps would not give up easily on the attack. I did not take any time to look back until I had reached the safety of our home.
Both David and Robby were a good 50 yards behind me with a dark cloud of stinging insects hovering above them. These bees
surely had a grudge and were taking it out on my friends. While they were being treated for their wounds, Uncle Bobby took
me aside to let me know that yellow jackets had memories like those of elephants, and would surely recognize me the next time
I left the house. For the next three days, we all spent our time sneaking around the house and yard before we realized my
uncle had pulled the wool over our eyes. To this day, Uncle Bob regrets ever teasing us about those nasty insects - because
we got even! We took an empty box of Ritz crackers and placed about five or six garter snakes inside. We found my uncle in
the garage working on his car and ever so politely asked him if he would like some crackers. To this day, he shivers at the
mere thought of snakes, and has never eaten a Ritz Cracker since.
THE SERPENT
Second grade. I couldn’t
wait for recess. My favorite place to explore was out of limits, and all the kids agreed not to venture into this rugged terrain,
except me. What the school officials used as a warning to keep the kids away from the creek only made my curiosity that much
stronger. The dangers of traveling behind the school took the form of a hideous, eight-foot snake that had been known to chase
little kids back to their classrooms! The joy upon hearing this was overwhelming! I carefully tiptoed from one bush to the
next to assure no one noticed as I made my way towards the creek-side. I felt
the warnings our teachers gave had more to do with us playing near the water’s edge rather than some creature lurking
about to chase unsuspecting kids back to class. I was alert as a bird eyeing an unsuspecting worm for lunch and waiting for
an attack when through the bushes emerged an eight-foot snake crawling slowly to within three feet of where I stood. The snake
rose into the air over three feet and stopped to stare me down for what seemed like forever. My heart was pounding with fear
for I had never encountered a snake as huge as this. I knew immediately this snake was not to be caught. After all, I had
no idea what kind of snake would slither up without apparent fear to look me in the eyes. As I circled around, his head turned
slowly around and followed me. He could only turn his head about halfway before it snapped back in the opposite direction
to watch my every move. I was so absorbed in the study of this beautiful serpent, I had not noticed some kids who walked up
behind me. Upon seeing the snake, they all let out ear piercing screams and headed for cover. I turned back and was saddened
to find my newfound friend had also retreated to the safety of the forest and creek. Looking back, I believe what I had encountered
was a Green Racer, and through the eyes of an excited eight-year-old, it was truly eight feet in length! The legend had come
true for everyone that day.
CAGE NUMBER 22
I received a call from
a curator of a public museum in Southern California that kept twenty-two venomous snakes on display. He explained to me that
this museum had been built on a fault line in the early 1900s, and if a considerable earthquake were to hit the area, the
building would fall and release the venomous snakes upon the town. His interest in sharing this information with me stemmed
from the fact I had developed a surgical procedure in 1988 that renders venomous snakes harmless. The curator had heard about
this and asked if I could fly down for two weeks to teach their local veterinarian the surgery. It sounded like a great adventure
to me, and I gladly accepted. The facility turned out to be a science museum full of wildlife, history, and plenty of desert
to explore in the evenings after work. The veterinarian was used to working on larger mammals such as dogs and cats. I didn’t
think he was prepared for the microscopic surgery that involved delicately cutting through connective tissue as thin as the
hair on your arm. We worked our way through the snakes until we reached the last cage, number 22. The curator handed me the
key, and before I could say thank you, I heard the two men behind me running to the door. Slam! I was alone … and for good reason. The last snake to be captured and placed upon the operating table
was a six-foot Black Mamba with an attitude! Known as the fastest, and one of the deadliest snakes in the world, I had come
prepared with a long pair of snake grabbers to defend myself with if the situation got out of hand. As I opened the door, the Mamba wasted no time attacking viciously, biting everything within reach as it
chased me halfway through the museum. His head was raised above the floor about two feet as his body whipped violently left
and right while in pursuit. The quick undulating movements made the Mamba appear as a blur as I ran backwards facing the snake.
I could see the inside of his solid black mouth as he lunged repeatedly at my legs and body. After multiple attempts, I finally
grasped the Mamba behind the head with the snake grabber and moved in quickly to secure him by hand before he hurt himself.
The danger was over, and on occasion, I think about picking up a large Black Mamba for myself to present during my reptile
programs. Then again, maybe not.
RATS!
The problem came from the
home next door. One day while taking a nap, I heard people yelling and pounding frantically upon the front door. As I opened
it, a man pulled me out quickly and led me to the safety of the street. The heat that emanated from the house fire next door
was tremendous! I had to shield my face from the effects of the fire. Fortunately, there were no people in the house at the
time, and the firefighters arrived just in time to save our own house from becoming a pile of ash. There were at least four
families living on the property with small shacks built in the back yard for each of them. It seems the blaze had not only
chased out the residents of the house, the rats left as well! Right onto our property … and under the house. It wasn’t
long before the rodents had gained access and began eating holes in the walls throughout the house. Although I didn’t
know it, help was on the way via a box of twelve, large Black Rat Snakes I had purchased from a friend. Anticipating their
arrival, I had temporary housing for them once they were delivered. The next day, I set them up in a holding pen and headed
off to work. Upon arriving home, I discovered that seven of the twelve snakes had escaped during the day! The snakes had entered
the holes in the walls and disappeared. Over the next month, if I entered the
house at night while the lights were off, I would catch one or more of the rat snakes slithering across the floor. I would
catch them, and returned them back to their cage. The snakes were fat and healthy from feasting on the unwanted vermin population.
From that day on, I never heard that familiar pitter-pat of small feet in the walls or the ceiling again. The scaly exterminators
worked so well, I decided to release a Tokay Gecko to take care of any bugs that found their way into the house. It worked
better than any critter spray I had ever used and was much healthier as well.
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