Tag: animal

For Sake of the Snake (part 2)

indigoshellLeave a comment

After that snake incident, I soon began watching Austin Steven’s Adventures on Animal Planet. He specialized in reptiles, which was the main reason I watched his shows. My interest in snakes was growing, and I began to ask my parents for my own pet. I wasn’t allowed a snake at first, so I got a bearded dragon instead, whom I named Tanny. A few weeks later I went back and was allowed to get a black and white banded Californian Kingsnake, and I very creatively named her Shadow Mist. Shadow for short.

I was kinda nervous about Shadow at first. I didn’t want to get bit and I always used gloves when handling her. After a month or so I just thought “screw this” and I gave up on being cautious. She only struck at me a few times and I had never gotten bit by her. She was a beautiful little snake, and had a little white star on her forehead.

After school I would head straight for her enclosure and drape her around my neck before writing in my journal. She would just lay there motionless as I wrote, absorbing the little heat I could put out and watching the movements of my pencil.

Tanny died a few months later, but I still had Shadow.

About a year and a half later I had to leave for OVS, and leaving her behind was upsetting for me. Did my parents know how to take care of her? What if my cat got her? What if she got lost? She got lost often due to a faulty enclosure but I would always find her in odd spots. Once I didn’t even realize she was lost until I spotted her on my doorknob. Scared me to death, that little stunt did.

Anyways, during my first Christmas break I finally went back to China to visit. Our cat and dog were ecstatic to see me, but somehow, it was like Shadow knew I had come back to visit. Her body was pressed up against the glass of the enclosure, and she lifted her body up vertically and did the weird dance that many cobras do while flaring their hoods. I took her out immediately and she never struck.

About a year later I asked about her and my mom said that she had escaped and they couldn’t find her. “When?” I asked. “Oh, six months ago.”

I MEAN WHAT. If a little girl’s pet gets lost or died, maybe you could say something like “he ran away,” or “doggy went up to heaven,” but I was freaking 15! You can’t just… Not tell me when something that important to me disappears!

I haven’t gone back to China since Freshman Christmas. Now I’m a Junior, and this Christmas my brother and I are going back to China for a little bit. I like to think that Shadow’s still in the house somewhere, watching the family from the cracks in the ceiling and eating any stray mice that come along. Maybe sometime in college I’ll get another snake.

My dream job is what Austin Steven’s doing. If I get bit? I’ll suffer, but I’ll have to trust modern medicine, I guess.

Now thinking about it, I feel like my favorite animal is the snake after all.

For Sake of the Snake (part 1)

indigoshell1 Comment

It was 9:30 at night, maybe 10:00. I was reading intensely, as I usually do, but was quickly brought out of my concentration by the muffled noises coming from our first floor. I quietly snuck out of my room and sat on the top of the staircase, peering between the hollow metal bars of the railing and wondering why my mom and nanny were fretting in front of our window.

I continued to sneak down, careful to avoid creaky steps, and crawled atop the dog-haired couch to see what was behind the window. The window was the size of the wall, allowing us to see much of what goes on outside, but for the moment, all our interest was focused on a shadowy figure at the rightmost corner of the window.

It was around wintertime, sometime between November and February (wide range, I know), so the heaters of our house were on and the windows were like sheets of ice. There, huddled sadly in the corner, was a large, black snake.

I think that was the first real snake I ever saw in my life.

In my hours within Animal Planet I had watched many shows on snakes, as well as picture books and book mentions. I had always been fascinated by them, so that night, my 10-year-old self was in a shock from seeing that creature.

My nanny grew up on a farm, where snakes are her bane. My mom didn’t like that snake sitting there and “endangering” our family and dogs, so they were wondering the best way to shoo it away. My nanny took a boot and whacked the window with it, which caused the snake to hiss and strike on the window.

I woke up the next morning wondering if it was a dream. To this day I’m still wondering, but either way it doesn’t matter. And now, with my incredible knowledge of snakes, I conclude that the window snake was a black rat snake.

Shark Bait, Hoo Ha Ha

indigoshellLeave a comment

Sharks are terrible creatures. They’re merciless hunters that can rip apart a human within seconds, and then will happily dine on their insides. When they sight a human and smell even a slight trace of their blood, nothing can stop them from killing.

At least, that’s how most people say sharks are.

Many times when people are attacked by sharks it’s because the person provokes the shark in some way, such as when divers grab at their fins or when fishermen untangle them from their fishing nets.

Honestly, sharks are like giant, rough-skinned, thousand-toothed dogs. That swim in the ocean. If you grab a dog’s tail, chances are they will bite at you. It’s no different with sharks, the only difference is that sharks and shark attacks are more exaggerated.

A diver dressed in a black wetsuit looks remarkably like a sleek seal, so the shark might take a hunk out of a diver, thinking he’s a seal. The result is a missing limb and a story of being attacked by “a vicious shark.”

Shark attack victims don’t usually die of shark attacks though, they die of blood loss. Sharks often do hit-and-run attacks, where they bite the victim, realize their mistakes, then quickly leave the human to bleed to death.

Vending machines have killed more people than sharks have. I’m sure many people have heard of this fact, but vending machines have killed more people than sharks each year.

Well I mean, it could be because humans are dumb and try to shake the machines that have eaten their change, which could often result in the machine falling on them.

Ok, moral of the story here is, shark good, people bad.

I mean.

Shark, not bad, people… Meeeh.

Rabbit Birds

indigoshellLeave a comment

The new addition to the habitats brought gobs of campers, all of them swarming around one single enclosure and squealing, yes, even the guys, “awwwwwww.”

About six baby bunnies had been born, and them and their mother “Waffles” were sharing a habitat with some frisky Indian Ringneck Parakeets. Most of the parakeets were friendly and would allow to stroking and feeding, while some others preferred to stay away.

The friendliest parakeets were the most troublesome. One particular parakeet liked to peck at my bracelets, the jewels on my shirt, my necklace, and on occasion, even my teeth. “The like to eat the plaque on your teeth,” I was told.

Eeeewwwww.

I preferred to play with the birds than the baby bunnies. Sure the bunnies were cute and all but they didn’t do much but sit on your lap and sleep. A lot of the times I was in the enclosure with my partner, he would sit on the ground and play with the bunnies. I liked to put birds on his head, and often times he wouldn’t notice until the bird hopped onto his shoulder.

The biggest, meanest bird in the enclosure was King Tut, an Alexandrine Ringneck Parakeet. Ok, he wasn’t really mean per say but he wouldn’t stand for petting whatsoever. He did like to be hand-fed bird treats, which look remarkably like human cereal.

The treats come in a variety of colours and shapes, and I believed King Tut’s was the yellow banana-shaped one. Louie preferred the smaller, rounder ones while Dewy liked any and all of them.

Or maybe it was the other way around.

I would have one parakeet on each shoulder and feed them treats one at a time. When I went to feed one bird the other would get annoyed and peck at my ear. When I went to feed him the other bird would pull at my hair. They were like little children with sharp beaks and small talons. I would leave the class with crunched up bird treats littering my shoulders.

I had always loved birds but I had never really considered having a pet bird until I spent a week with those annoying little parakeets. It’s a shame my school doesn’t allow pets.

Tang and Vulture

indigoshellLeave a comment

My first week in the Habitats I had tried to adopt Stevie, but there were about 3 other campers looking to adopt him too. After walking up and down the hallway several times I decided on adopting Tang and Vulture. Tang was a Green Iguana and Vulture was a Black Throated Monitor.

Vulture was a huge creature, and relatively dangerous to a kid my size. Or anyone for that matter, as a whip of his tail could shatter a full-grown man’s ankle. Me and my partner, a guy from Alabama cabin that liked to wear very neon clothing, weren’t allowed in the enclosure when Vulture was on the ground or when he was feeding.

So for three out of five days we weren’t allowed into their enclosure.

There was a counselor that was like the “expert” on Vulture and said, in the large lizard world, Vulture was “puppy-dog tame.” On the two days he was around he would pick Vulture off the ground and put him on a higher platform. Then my partner and I could change the water and get their food, but had to step outside again when Vulture fed.

While Tang ate salads, Vulture had a more carnivorous diet of canned dog food and eggs. They weren’t… Really the most exciting animals of the Habitats. We could pet them and mist them with some water but it wasn’t like we could hold them or play with them. Nonetheless they were amazing creatures and some of the largest lizards I had ever seen.

The Reptile Room

indigoshellLeave a comment

The Reptile Room was warm. Very warm, and filled with slithering reptiles and crawly lizards.

“You have to stay quiet,” hushes the counselors, “you have to stay five feet away from each other while holding a reptile, and make sure you sit down onto the ground so you don’t drop them. Make sure they stay away from your neck, too.”

On a hot day the Reptile Room could be dreaded due to its warmth. On the rare cold day campers would gratefully huddle in the warmth and perhaps peek at a snake or lizard.

During the first week of camp I “adopted” the Speckled Kingsnake. Her name was Carly, and she was sort of vicious. For the first few days she was fine. For some reason, a few days in, she would begin to squirm in my hands and try to bite me, but would actually bite herself instead.

I was scared for her, I really was. I see pictures on the internet of snakes eating themselves and it genuinely scared me. I quickly put Carly back in her enclosure and worry. I would stand there and watch her watch me and just worry. She was a wild-caught, which may be the root of her frightening quirks.

That’s when I began to take Legolas out, and despite what everyone said about him, he was tame. After my trauma with Carly I would sit on the dirty ground with Legolas puffing in my hands and watch the other campers interact with their reptiles.

Most of the campers sit with their friends and choose compatible snakes. Other people, like me, choose solitary snakes and have to sit alone.

During the last week of camp I adopted a Prairie Kingsnake, named Molly. She was tamer than Carly but was still slightly twitchy. I would clean her enclosure, replace her water, then take her out and hold her for about 10 minutes before switching to either Legolas or a Leopard Gecko.

My best friend had become infatuated with Leopard Geckos, affectionally calling them Geckard Lepos, and would take out two at a time and let them sit on his chest. The room was warm and I always felt a slight worry that he would fall asleep and roll over the Geckos. He never did though.

Right next to the Reptile Room was the Small Animal Room. Whose great idea was that? And right next to the Small Animal Room was the Cat Room. Whose great idea was that?

Emu Drum Solo

indigoshellLeave a comment

In my summer camp, we had a program called the ASIT program. ASIT stands for “Assistant Specialist in Training,” and they’re basically advanced campers that are between campers and counselors.

Many campers become ASITs, but just as many, perhaps more, don’t get the sacred letter. ASITs get to dig a little deeper into the camp; doing the behind-the-scenes work such as cleaning pastures and and taking care of new and baby animals. They are almost the equivalent to “student leaders,” or “prefects,” for any dormers out there.

There are three things you can do to increase your chances of being an ASIT. First is join the ASIT for a Day class, which is an hour of trust-building games and another hour of showing us the jobs of an ASIT. Meaning we have to clean a large enclosure, such as the barn or Lemur Island.

The second thing to do is to write a letter to Lori, one of our camp directors, about what you could bring to the ASIT program. It’s similar to a college application letter, in which you have to sell yourself fully. The third thing is to get a letter of recommendation from one of your counselors, which is something campers generally can’t control.

Hanging by our cafeteria are about two dozen hammocks of various shapes and sizes. After lunch my cabin sits in the hammocks and we wait for Free Time to start. I usually write in my journal during that time.

He had dark, curly hair, stocky body, olive-colored cap, light blue shirt, and was comfortably writing in a large, colorful book. He was an ASIT, and was sitting a little in front and to the right of me. The fact that he was also writing, I think poetry, caught my eye.

At the end of the session, he got up on stage during Skit Night and told us how he mucked out the Back Pastures for four hours. Then he grabbed a rake and started singing.

More than a dozen emus reside in the Back Pastures, and emus tend to make a peculiar drum-sounding sound deep in their chests. In the middle of the ASIT’s songs, he struck a pose, pointed in the direction of the Back Pastures, and declared “Emu Drum Solo!” He held that pose for about 30 seconds.

Every time we would try to laugh he would shush us harshly. He even started over once because he was so determined to perform the song perfectly “Four hours!” he yelled at us, “I was out there for four hours!”

The Missing Lynx

indigoshellLeave a comment

One of the animals I was most interested in during camp was Jazz, the Canadian Lynx.

I waited a long two sessions (four weeks!) before finally capturing a slight glimpse of him.

I remember always, always craning my neck to see if I could spot Jazz in his enclosure. Missouri is always hot, and Jazz has quite a bit of fur, so it was obvious that he wouldn’t like to be outside in the heat. Yet somehow, many people said that they would spot Jazz while on their way to the nursery or barn, so I would always pause for a few moments to see if I could spot Jazz.

I stayed at camp for three two-week sessions and by the start of the third and last session I had almost nearly given up hope on seeing Jazz.

There was a counselor sitting in his enclosure feeding him a hunk of meat. I could hear the crunch of the bones from where I stood, outside the cage fence, staring in.

It was really dark in the enclosure, and I think it was cloudy that day too. Jazz had a slight glint in his eyes while he chewed, keeping a careful eye on the counselor, some other campers, and I while we watched him.

As the days at camp got cooler I saw Jazz more and more, though I never had the time to really watch him. Campers weren’t allowed in his enclosure anymore, though while he was a kit he was allowed to be held and bottle fed.

I’m still quite upset that I couldn’t pet Jazz, or at least sit in his enclosure with him or even toss him a dead, bloody chicken. I sort of just wanted to sit on the ground and watch him, creepy as that sounds.

Armadillo Escape

indigoshellLeave a comment

While Stevie was one of the loudest creatures in the habitat area, people would often double back and investigate the out-of-place scratching noise coming from one of the habitats.

At first glance the habitat seemed to be occupied by a single prehensile-tail porcupine perched up on a tree. Once a camper enters the enclosure Ned might pop out of the wood shavings and trot happily around your feet, the little tree, his den, before pausing to scratch at the wall.

Ned was a six-banded armadillo and almost reminded me of a little old man due to his small tufts of hair and wrinkled skin. His back plates were hard like nails, though kinda weirdly fuzzy…

When I first entered his enclosure he was already running around, zooming along the walls and pausing to scratch at a worringly large hole on the rightmost corner of the wall.

I personally think that Ned is planning an escape. He charms newcomers by running circles around them.  Then while they’re distracted, he makes a dash at the door. Which is what he did when I didn’t close it quick enough.

I quickly used my foot to block his escape but wasn’t sure how to handle him. Should I pick him up? Scoot him away with my foot? With the help of a counselor I managed to keep him inside before snapping the door shut. “You know you can just pick him up, right?” he says.

Often times when things are slow in the habitats, counselors like to let Ned out and he’ll skitter along the small hallway the same way he does in his enclosure. Each time I visit his habitat the hole seems to be a few chips larger and maybe a little deeper.

I wonder if Ned’ll still be there when I go back next summer.

Headbutts and Back Climbers

indigoshellLeave a comment

Goats are like a strange mix of dogs and cats. They love like dogs and play like cats.

There are a few goats in our camp’s animal nursery, and we could always go into their pens during free time.

One of my favorite things to do was just sit cross-legged on the ground and stare at the baby goats until they headbutted me. Regrettably, I’m a human, so I couldn’t headbutt them back. I used my hand instead and pushed against the kids, and they were surprisingly strong.

A couple weeks into camp I realized yet another thing I could do.

Although it wasn’t allowed, I found out it was really fun to let the kids jump up onto my back and let them balance.

At fist I didn’t enjoy it very much as their little hooves would stun me with sharp pain. Imagine a full-grown goat jumping onto a younger camper’s back and you’d get the idea to why the kids weren’t allowed up onto our backs.

Although I would spend most days with Stevie, Sarah, and Legolas, I would always get dragged to the nursery by one or more of my camp friends. There I would spend time “head”butting the little goats and allowing them to view the world from my back.

Goats seem to be just another under-appreciated animal.