Sunday, April 05, 2009

When I was young, my parents enrolled me in various summer day camps and nature camps in the hills above Cupertino. Some were at Linda Vista park, and some were at McClellan Ranch park. For some reason, one of my clearest memories of my time at Linda Vista park was finding an unopened can of beer. I'm not sure where the camp leaders were at the time, but a bunch of us opened the beer and it geysered out. We all leaned forward to drink from this sudden fountain of alcohol, enjoying the warm taste of the illicit beverage. It's kind of ironic that I loved the taste of beer then, but hated it by the time I was old enough to drink it legally.

But it was at McClellan Ranch park the I found my first wild snakes. I think I was by myself when I found them. The park was actually a farm of sorts, with a big garden area and possibly some livestock. It was bordered on one side by a creek. It was near the creek, under a flat piece of rock (or possibly a board) that I found the two Ringneck snakes, coiled together like an ornate, reptilian ring. I don't think I'd ever seen something so beautiful, although I wouldn't have used those words at the time. For me, it was like suddenly discovering treasure in a place where I'd expected only dirt. I don't think I knew what Ringneck snakes were at the time, but that didn't stop me from quickly capturing them. Being a kid, I took them home and set up a cage for them. I didn't care that I was taking them away from their home, and I was only dimly aware of concepts like ecology and wilderness ethics. I was a collector. When I saw something cool, I collected it. This is healthy childhood behavior. It's how children learn. It's how we build our interests.

I can't remember what eventually happened to the snakes, but I have a memory of losing a Ringneck snake in the neighbor's lawn. It just wormed its way into the grass and disappeared.

As an adult, I don't let the kids I'm in charge of take animals out of the wilderness, but I can understand why kids want to catch things. Part of the reason, I think, is that we tend to define who we are by what we surround ourselves with. I spent a lot of time surrounding myself with animals I found under rocks, dinosaur models, horror novels, and other related items. This set me apart from many of my contemporaries and gave me a feeling of individuality, of uniqueness. I'm not sure how much of this external definition of self is induced by modern society - by advertising and the like - and how much is simply human nature. Geez. I'm getting more philosophical than I set out to be here... As a species, we started out as hunter gatherers. Maybe it's in our nature to gather. The only difference is now that companies engage in advertising to convince us to gather their products and not those of their competetors.

Whatever the cause of my desire to gather reptiles, I eventually realized that it wasn't okay to take animals from their homes. I remember running into a reptile photographer at a BAARs meeting (that would be the Bay Area Amphibian and Reptile Society) who put it this way: "You don't have to feed or clean the cages of photos." I think this is what first got me to thinking about what I was doing, and this despite the fact that he hadn't actually addressed the ethics of taking animals from their homes. I arrived at that conclusion by myself. That conclusion being that all species have a right to exist in their own habitats. As an adult, I've dedicated a lot of time to bringing this message to children. Catching reptiles is only a small part of the picture, of course. Development companies have a much greater impact on the lives and well-being of wild animals than a handful of junior collectors ever will. They don't take animals from their habitats, but instead rip the habitat out from under the animals, like a big organic rug, leaving behind city streets and new buildings. I've seen what has happened to most of the reptile hunting places I frequented as a child. Most of them are now under foundations or asphalt. Sure, the parks are still there, but a lot of the inbetween places have vanished.

So now, as an adult, I always have my camera with me. Right now I'm between cameras though. The outdoors is hard on cameras, and I find that I have to buy a new one every couple of years. I haven't yet bought a truly good camera, instead focusing (pun intended, as always) on mid-range point and shoot cameras. This way, I'm not afraid to get down there in the dirt and get the interesting shots of animals doing what they do. I also still catch reptiles, usually so I can get good close-ups. The difference is that I put them down again after I'm done. I also let kids touch, and sometimes hold, the reptiles I catch. I know there are other naturalists out there who don't allow this, but I think I have a good rationale. Kids need to get up close and personal with the wilderness and the wild animals that inhabit it - that's how they make connections. These are the kinds of experiences that inspire people to care about nature. It worked for me, and I know I'm not unique in this respect. Of course, it's always important to constantly model respect, and to talk about how to interact with these animals in a way that is safe for both humans and their temporary captives.

I draw the line at wild mammals. We watch those from a distance. Reptiles and amphibians are good animals to interact with because of their relatively primitive brains (less stress for the animal - in fact, some lizards will crawl right onto a person and bask there) and lower likelihood of having communicable diseases (reptiles can carry salmonella, but you're much more likely to get this from improperly cooked chicken).

It's Spring right now, and I'm looking forward to getting out on the trails with a new camera. The reptiles I capture today and the photos I post online might inspire somebody somewhere to make more of a difference. Who knows?

2 comments:

Prettylittlecrow said...

Hi There!

I agree that kids need to touch in order to make the compassionate connection between the animal's basic needs and their own. Without that, it is just another passing fascination that serves the human in the moment.

I would love to see the hills above Cupertino as they were in the 70's! Actually, I'd love to see the valley at that time, as well!

These last few pieces about your childhood have been great to read. The rabbit one is written in a different style. It left me so sad for that rabbit and for you kids gathered around it.

~Lorelei

dr silence said...

Thanks, Lorelei,

Yeah - I miss that valley. I can barely recognize Cupertino now.

I'm glad you're enjoying the posts. I think I slipped into my fiction-writing style for the rabbit one. For some reason, it just seemed like the right way to tell it.

John