Tag: Summer

Have You Ever Seen, An ASIT Company

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This summer, I spent a grand total of eight weeks at summer camp. Yes, the same summer camp, but this time I was not a lowly camper.

I was an ASIT. 

An ASIT. Animal Specialist in Training. We, 11-25 of us, wake up at 6:45 a.m. to feed, water, and clean the enclosures of over 300 different camp animals. There are four areas; the Barn, the Animal Learning Center (ALC for short), the Jungle, and the Kennels.

Barn people take care of the Inner Barn, the Back Pastures, the Nursery, the Bird Nursery, and the Creepy Crawly Room.

ALC people take care of the Habitats, the Small Animal Room, the Reptile Room, and the Cat Room.

The Jungle and the Kennels are their own areas.

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I worked (I PAID TO WORK) as an ASIT for 6 weeks, meaning I worked in every area at least once. My pride and joy, where I wished I could sleep at night, was the Reptile Room. I memorized the meals of 7 reptile species in under three days. My greatest moment was walking into the ALC Kitchen and the lead Animal Specialist planted herself in front of me and said “just the person I was looking for! I need you to feed the reptiles!”

Chuckwallas, Mali Uromastyx, Green Iguana, Leopard Tortoise, Plated Lizards, Blue-Tongued Skink, Bearded Dragon, Leopard Gecko. For the sake of my own pride, I listed the reptiles (minus the snakes) that we took care of. For the sake of time and space I won’t write down their meals.

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The Habitats was the next area I memorized. Again, under three days.

Given the time, I assure you I would have memorized all the meals for the animals. I didn’t really try anyways until the last week.

Tang and Vulture

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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

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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?

The Creepy Crawlies

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One of the least appreciated rooms at our camp was the Creepy Crawly Room, located on the second floor of the barn and requires a few twists and turns down an eerie hallway to reach.

As the name states, creepy crawlies reside in the Creepy Crawly Room. Creepy crawlies include tarantulas, cockroaches, frogs, newts, and scorpions.

Many times a week my friends and I would try our luck and see if there was a counselor monitoring the Creepy Crawly Room. Perhaps one out of five visits would be successful, the other times we would leave disappointed and roam the habitats and jungle instead.

On the days where there was a counselor we were allowed to hold the roaches, tarantulas, etc. Most of my friends would cower at the entrance of the room but I would always head straight to the cockroach habitat.

These weren’t your average pest cockroaches. They were tamer, you could say, and I could easily just reach into the glass tank and pull out a roach. People called me weird but man they were cute.

My best friend loves tarantulas, so he would always go for the little tarantula enclosures first. You couldn’t play with cockroaches or tarantulas, but there was a strange charm in simply holding an arthropod in your hand and watching them move. “They’re scary!” people would shriek, “they have fangs and poison!”

Well, dogs could easily rip a person’s throat out, yet they aren’t avoided as avidly. We fear the unknown, and most people have no experience with arthropods. Let a scorpion sit on your hand for a minute and you’ll realize they really have no intention to harm anyone.

A few weeks ago a tarantula was found in our school’s courtyard. My brother and I immediately went to investigate and put him in a safer spot away from screaming girls and stomping feet. “Do you think it was the way you two were raised?” inquires a teacher, fascinated by our lack of fear. “No,” I reply, “definitely not.


(This is Joey)

I ended up going back and taking the tarantula with me to class. I named him Joey and then released him later that day upon learning that he only had a few more weeks to live. Male tarantulas live much shorter lives than females do.

I hope people will appreciate, or at least not fear, creatures like tarantulas and scorpions, because they really mean us no harm.

Emu Drum Solo

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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

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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

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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.

Just a Little Bit

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I’ll consider myself an avid rider for the moment. The first time I rode a horse was when my trainer plucked me off the ground, from atop a tall horse mind you, and plunked me down onto said horse. He then proceeded to gallop 6467, the horse’s racing name and number, at full speed.

It was exhilarating and supposedly terrifying too, though I don’t recall feeling any fear. I remember my eyes tearing up due to the wind and the world around me reduced to blurry shapes. My heart was beating to the sound of stomping hooves.

I rode and jumped Tai Yan, sun in Chinese, for two years before stopping due to health reasons.

One of the first things I saw upon arriving at OVS was an Equestrian coach, sitting on a horse, and watching the cars go by.

The first day of sports I nearly hurtled myself into the barn to reunite with equine life.

After two more years riding horses and training ponies I’d say I’m quite familiar with equine creatures, big or small.

Little Bit was a dwarf miniature horse.

Dwarf. Miniature. Horse.

DWARF. MINIATURE.

IN WHAT WORLD DO HORSES COME IN THAT SIZE.

During camp I finally got a chance to explore the Back Pastures. Malachi, the Dromedary Camel, was the focal point of the back pastures, mooing and grunting and giving icky sloppy kisses.

After escaping Malachi I look around and practically trip over what I thought was a baby pony.

“Hey Little Bit!” our counselor croons, bending down to pet the creature. “This is Little Bit, our Dwarf Miniature Horse!”

OH MY GODS.

I stood gaping for a full minute trying to make sense of the little horse.

I did not understand how horses could be dwarf miniatures.

I felt like I had grown six feet because we were surrounded by miniature horses and they were so tiny. Little Bit dwarfed them all though and I was just speechless because it felt like Mother Nature bungee-jumped in front of my face waving a flag and said “NOPE”.

But not in the bad way. Walking around the mini-horses was an adorable experience but every second of it I was thinking “what is going on what is happening where am I what world is this.”

I’m still slightly in shock and denial.

Headbutts and Back Climbers

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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.

Kevin, Kenny, and Nicholas Cage

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We had missed our flight.

What a way to start the first day of camp, eh? Arriving at 10pm in the dark gives a great first impression.

I had pulled an all-nighter as our flight was at 4am, which was a very stupid thing to do. I felt like death while waiting for the next plane to fly.

I was grumpy. I’m sure my little brother was too.

The car ride was awkward because everyone but my little brother and the driver was asleep.

I remember waking up and groggily stepping out of the car. The first thing I remember from the camp was a startling loud cry of a very, very familiar bird.

It was a peacock call.

All over camp, wandering freely, were peacocks. I was told that the peacocks roaming the main part of camp were called Kevin and the ones that stayed near the Animal Area were called Nicholas Cage.

During nighttime Kevin would hop up waaay up there in a pine tree, startling children walking underneath whenever they make a nighttime call. I had made a little game out of it; trying to find Kevin whenever he was in a tree. He was usually camouflaged too well among the branches and leaves but sometimes I would see the little jitter of his tail feathers.

The Animal Area was what it was called: an area for the animals of the camp. What we called the “Bird Aviary” housed many different species of birds: peacocks, pigeons, silkie chickens, and a lionhead rabbit.

The most valuable peacock we had was a half albino, half normal peacock, and he was settled in the Aviary. Prince Charming and his Princess, two albinos, were also in the Aviary.

When I was in China I grew up hearing the calls of peacocks day and night.

Most people wouldn’t expect there to be peacocks in China but for some reason there was a hotel that had peacocks in it.

Being at camp and hearing Kevin and Nicholas Cage cawing all the time brought a slight feeling of nostalgia.

After my five out of six weeks of camp was up I was told that the peacocks were actually called Kenny.

Why had nobody told me this earlier?

I had been calling them the wrong name for five weeks? But even the counselors called them Kevin!

I still call the peacocks Kevin. Old habits die hard.