An Introduction, Part Two
Meeting Dr. Layne became a defining moment in my life. It was because of him that my interests swung to the more scientific. He decided that my mole king snake find was important enough to document, and he began writing up a range extension paper for publication and invited me to be a co-author. After doing background research, he asked another scientist, Peter A. Meylan (then with the Florida State Museum), to be the third author. I had my first peer-review publication at age 15, which was the publication of New Records for the Mole Snake, Lampropeltis calligaster, in Peninsular Florida. Although I had minimal input other than two draft paragraphs of information regarding the discovery of the specimen and observations of it in my care, Dr. Layne would always send me copies of the latest drafts and ask me for my thoughts. My mother would drive to the Archbold Biological Laboratory several times a year so I could meet with Dr. Layne, and he became an important mentor to me. I would also cross paths with Peter Meylan again eleven years later when we published a paper on spotted turtles in 1996.
After the newspaper article mentioned in An Introduction, part one appeared in my town, word spread about my peculiar interests. Okeechobee was a small town with only about 15,000 residents (swelling to 25,000 in the winter). It is the only city within one of Florida's largest counties, meaning wild spaces abound. It also meant that everyone knew everything. One of my physical education coaches in junior high school nicknamed me “snake man.”
Me displaying a mole kingsnake at Glades Herp in 1990. Photograph by Bill Love.
Well before I could drive a car, my parents would take me to visit three different reptile importers in Ft. Myers. We did this trip several times per year. We would visit Tom Crutchfield’s Reptile Enterprises, Glades Herp, and Gulf Coast Reptiles. These shops abounded with every reptile and amphibian you could imagine as the 1980s wildlife laws were much looser than today. Tubs and cages filled with exotic cobras, monitor lizards, crocodiles, chameleons, etc., captured my interest. One day at Reptile Enterprises, Tom Crutchfield introduced me to a bizarre creature that would solidify an interest and focus that remains today. In an aquarium were these tiny, salmon-bellied turtles that looked like a pile of leaves, mata mata turtles. The specimens were only post-hatchlings, about two-and-a-half inches long. Tom saw my interest and let me hold one and said, “If you like these, you should see what I have out back.” He then led my father and me to the outdoor area behind the shop, where there were cages with giant lizards, ponds with crocodiles, and tubs full of turtles. Tom reached both hands into a large tub full of pea-green water. After wrestling around a bit, he pulled out a monster-sized 17-inch mata mata. That beast was so ugly and prehistoric; it looked so beautiful. At that moment, turtles became my life’s passion.
During high school, I would occasionally give presentations to local schools. Probably the one person who encouraged me to start this was my seventh-grade science teacher, Mr. Dennis Harris. He had me bring my mole king snake to class one day to share its story with the class. He thought it would interest other classes and schools in learning about reptiles and seeing specimens in the flesh. I had quite a variety to share. When I left home for college, my collection numbered 45 snakes, 37 turtles, and 17 lizards. Still painfully shy with anyone but family and close friends, I can recall locking myself in the bathroom - not wanting to face a classroom full of third-graders. I once spoke to the entire fifth and sixth-grade classes in Okeechobee. I would pack many of my pets and show them to eager groups.
News of my hobby also made it to the fire and police departments. That was natural as my mother worked as the cleaning lady for the town City Hall, and my father volunteered for the police department — all of our family friends were cops or firemen. When people would call them frantic about a snake in their garage or house, they would ultimately call me. I would either talk to the person on the phone and try to identify species and relay information so they could safely move the specimen or calmly let it go about their lives. Sometimes, I would go to their homes and remove and relocate the snakes.
Another scientist who played an essential role in developing my love for research was then state herpetologist for the Florida Fish and Game Commission, Paul Moler. Paul contacted me in 1990 as he heard I had a captive pair of mole king snakes from Glades County. He and photographer Barry Mansell visited my home to take photographs and record collection data. Neither treated me as a kid but as a peer. I had a juvenile mud snake that I purchased at a pet store that I could not get to eat. They are notoriously tricky captives as they feed almost exclusively on aquatic salamanders. It just so happened that Paul and Barry were travelling the state collecting dwarf sirens for their research, so Paul suggested we visit my local neighbourhood pond to see if we could catch any. We drove a quarter mile down the road, tossed in a contraption called a Goin Dredge (a three-sided box with a screen bottom) into the water plant-filled pond, and started raking in plants. The dredge was then quickly hoisted from the water as the water drained from the bottom. Any creatures caught would be found by sifting through the vegetation. We did not find any sirens, but about two weeks later, a package from Paul arrived in the mail. It was a small bottle of live dwarf sirens he captured during his travels, and the mud snake eagerly gulped them down.
Paul and I connected a few times later when I lived in Gainesville, FL, while attending college. Our paths crossed again, most recently at a two-day workshop about the taxonomy of the turtle genus Pseudemys. I pulled Paul aside and thanked him for encouraging me back 29 years ago. Befriending people like Paul at a young age truly helped mold the person I am today, and I would not be where I am without them.
