This is a ledge in one of the smaller snake exhibits of the reptile house. I always enjoy seeing the snakes and going to the reptile house because there is personal history for me in that place. And, amazingly, it has remained virtually unchanged in the 46 years since I first laid eyes upon the brass cobra that greets visitors at its entrance.At about ten years of age I talked my parents into buying a boa constrictor for my birthday. Don't know where I got the idea, but my brothers and I had snakes around the house for as long as I could remember, so suppose that that, along with my penchant for the wild and exotic, is what conceived the notion. Thus, we traveled to a pet store for exotic species run by a guy named Glen Duplechain [sp], I believe in Nederland. I will never forget going in there, seeing everything from tarantulas to scorpions, from grass snakes to black mambas...all for sale!
In one cage there were a bunch of medium-sized red-tailed boa constrictors. Mr. Duplechain let me hold a few, and I selected one that was about 4 1/2 feet long, naming it "Pretzel" because of the coloring. In anticipation of our acquisition, my father and I had built an elaborate cage with two sections made out of plywood; in between the two sections, at the bottom, was a little rounded door that swung open on hinges. In the taller section we had placed some branches and foliage. In the shorter, wider section was the water dish and some more branches.
We brought Pretzel home and placed him in his new cage. There was a great thrill of excitement as he poked around his new surroundings. I remember my brother Allan exclaiming that this was "a snake and a half!". We worked very gingerly at getting Pretzel used to his environment and being handled. To be honest I was a little afraid of him, but dared not show that to my friends or family.
Before too long the trill turned to concern, however, when Pretzel would not eat. After a couple of weeks, when we were sure he was real hungry, we offered him a live teddy bear hamster. Pretzel showed some interest, but would not touch it. After a couple more weeks we caught a rat from our attic and offered our new pet some game that was a little more wild. Not only did Pretzel ignore the feast, after a few hours the feast began to chew holes in his skin, leaving a scaleless patch about the size of a quarter. Now it was time to do something...there was something definitely wrong.
Where to get help for a boa constrictor that would not eat? In a pillow case we toted Pretzel back to Glen Duplechain's store, where a diagnosis was made of "mouth rot" - a common disease of captive reptiles. We were given instructions and a yellow-powdered antibiotic to stir into his water. Unfortunately for me, those instructions included forcing Pretzel's mouth open and swabbing out his gums with a cleansing topical ointment. Have you ever heard of anyone doing that with a snake?
Well, I did. Twice a day I would grab Pretzel and give his upper and lower gums a good swabbing, along with changing his water once a day with fresh antibiotic. Over time - a period of several months - the brown, paste-like substance caused by the disease began to diminish. Gradually he did get better and finally ate some food.
It was about this time, when Pretzel was getting better, that he began to show a little more assertiveness. This was demonstrated one day as I was reaching in to administer his morning treatment. Obviously not in the mood to endure yet another mouth-swabbing, in a mere instant he struck at my hand, covering the pinky, ring finger, and the entire left side of the hand with dozens of needle-sharp teeth. And just as quickly he released, evidently just communicating a warning to stay away. Tiny rivulets of blood oozed from at least a dozen of the holes that were created.
Though it didn't hurt much, I let out a howl at the realization that my beloved pet - one to whom I labored so consistently to heal and make better - actually struck and bit me. Without thinking, I ran into my bedroom and continued howling and moaning until our housekeeper, Addie Mae Brown, rushed in. Upon hearing that the snake bit me, she went into the playroom where we kept the cage and discovered that I had left it open! Pretzel was making his way leisurely out of the cage, and was about a third of the way there when she demanded that I put him back in. Looking back, it's amazing that she didn't quit there on the spot.
Well, that did it. I didn't want to treat or hold Pretzel any longer, so eventually made the decision to give him away. This is where the zoo experience comes in. My dad made arrangements with the curator of the reptile house to take him off our hands, and one day we packed him in a pillow case and made the two-hour drive from Orange to Houston.
They were very nice at the zoo. The curator let us in the back, behind all of the cages that are open to public viewing. We were there quite a while, getting the ten-dollar tour of everything behind the scenes. I remember seeing an Australian tiger snake that was kept in the back, among other species not normally seen at any zoo. It was fascinating. Ironically, Pretzel was placed at the children's zoo, where kids could touch and pet.
That's not quite the end of the story. Always wanting to become a herpetologist, I majored in biology at Stephen F. Austin State University in Nacogdoches, Texas. One semester I joined the Texas Herpetological Association, and as a member participated in monthly excursions to study reptilian fauna in the piney woods of East Texas. On one such outing I met a guy who worked at the zoo for a while and was able to tell me what eventually became of Pretzel. He retired from the petting area after about eight years, then somehow acquired a brain parasite that led to his decline and eventual death. It was very interesting to be able to catch up with him after all those years, during my sophomore year at college.
The next few postings will be of snakes taken at that same reptile house...
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Nikon D300s, AF-S DX Nikkor 18-200 mm F/3.5-5.6G ED VR II
ISO-800, f/8, 1/250 sec
Photo taken 03/20/11 by Jim Mahood
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