Last week I had the pleasure of speaking to a great group of folks about the history of the eastern massasauga in the Chicago region. Organized by the Lake County Audubon Society, the presentation went well (I hope) and I was really happy to hear the many questions asked of me afterward. As usual, someone asked me to explain how exactly I developed an interest in snakes. I think people are genuinely curious about how such an unlikely passion is cultivated, versus, say, an interest in birds or flowers. And I get that - culturally, snakes have long been maligned and persecuted, probably as long as humans and our ancestors have walked the earth. I have long struggled with a straight answer to that question. I have to put myself in the shoes of someone who has limited experience and understanding of snakes, and that can be difficult for me to do. Snakes have been a fixture in my life for as long as I can remember, and therefore as familiar to me as anything else. My answer to this person was brief and probably somewhat comical; something about being interested in snakes as a boy, as most kids are, but then never growing up. Most “snake people” can probably attest to that. However, my fascination with snakes transcends the snakes themselves. It is how snakes have shaped my conception of the world that is perhaps the most compelling.
As far as I can remember, the first wild snake I ever saw (and in all likelihood, first snake ever) was a plains garter snake in my backyard when I was about five or six years old. I grew up on a relatively quiet street in Jefferson Park, not unlike dozens of others in the neighborhood. Our street dead-ended at a fenced-off, overgrown railroad embankment, and an abundance of large trees and old broken sidewalks along the block indicated that there was some age to the neighborhood. We lived in an old, modest frame bungalow, and every summer, my Sicilian immigrant dad would plant an impressive vegetable garden in any spot the yard could spare, leaving a square of turf for me and my sisters to recreate in. The garden itself provided a place for a young kid like me to explore. I recall the rough sensation of the cucumber plant’s stems and leaves, and the glossiness of the deep purple eggplants in the fading sunlight. Most persistent, though, are the memories of crawling through the dense jungle of tomato plants. The pungent aroma is as classic a summertime experience as freshly cut grass.
One day, probably in late summer, I was quietly making my way through the labyrinth of tomato plants along the west side of the backyard when I was stunned to find a snake intertwined along some of the stems and the old wiry fence. I spent what felt like an hour processing what I was seeing but in reality it was probably minutes. This snake was plump, and dark in color, with a pale orange stripe down its back. Its face looked menacing. I could see its body gently expand and contract as I moved closer, and I took notice of the skin showing between its keeled scales. It looked warm and content resting there in the dappled sunlight. Even if I wanted to say something, I’m not sure I’d have been able to. It was a real live reptile in my backyard in Chicago. Admittedly a little bit intimidated, I backed up slowly and let it be. I went inside and told my mom, who responded in a mildly favorable fashion while my dad was incredulous. No snake was going to be found in HIS garden (ironically I find snakes in his garden every time I visit him, the last one being a beautiful rat snake at his home in South Carolina).
The image of that big, likely pregnant female plains garter snake was to be forever burned in my mind. But why? I am not the only person who has discovered a garter snake in Chicago. They are not exactly rare in most areas. Why did I have an epiphany when others might have developed at best a short-lived interest and at worst a crippling fear?
While I’m not exactly sure why and may never know, I think that my discovery of and consequent obsession with that snake (and ultimately all snakes and reptiles) was rooted in my experiences leading to that point. I was a middle child (Alfred Adler nailed it when he considered middle children to be more “cooperative and independent”), free of supervision for most of my childhood. I had a ton of time to explore the bits of nature in my neighborhood and figured things out pretty easily. Like most young kids, I started out with an interest in bugs, catching and studying ants, beetles, and worms (my mom talks of “worm trains” I’d make as a toddler). But I was never scolded for doing this the way a lot of parents do - at least in an urban setting. My dad considered virtually any living thing a threat to his well being and never allowed any pets, even pillbugs or caterpillars, into the house. But he was largely absent throughout my childhood, spending many nights at the Sicilian clubs or who knows where. At home, he was unapologetically critical of the choices I’d make, seemingly never satisfied with the person I was shaping up to be.
Keenly aware of my family situation, my grandpa stepped up to the plate. My mom’s dad was the best. He would pick up my sisters and I on the weekends and take us to the park or to a nature center. Usually, it was River Trail Nature Center or the Grove. While my grandpa had no real invested interest in nature or science, it was hard to deny the appeal of free activities. He fed my enthusiasm and never questioned my motives.
So naturally, I found more enjoyment with my grandpa. I learned to be more patient, more considerate, and more of myself. I cannot overestimate the importance of a father figure, or mentor, or just someone who accepts you as you are and encourages positivity. As a result of imprinting on my grandpa, I felt no trepidation about my love for snakes. And maybe, in a way, my attraction to snakes was further fueled by the persistent discord between my dad and me. The day my parents separated for good in 1993, I moved my collection of garter snakes from the back patio to my bedroom.
However, even with my grandpa’s support, it was tough growing up. Snakes and reptiles were a welcome distraction from the rigors of everyday life - bullies, poor grades, and at various times, bouts of low self esteem. When I felt misunderstood, I knew I was in good company. I would wander through the weedy railroad embankment, turning over discarded railroad ties and pieces of trash looking for snakes. And sometimes after finding one, I’d catch it, sit down, and marvel at this creature that has eked out an existence in its own sliver of nature. Unless you are a snake lover, it is a feeling that is very difficult to describe - best I can do is call it cathartic. Mike Pingleton considers this “tactile experience” to be unique among many natural pursuits. Bird enthusiasts must admire their loves from a distance and through the lenses of binoculars. Snakes can be sought and often handled, bridging the gap between human and target.
Back in those days, this wasn’t as much of a “thing” as it is now. As far as I was concerned, I was the only weirdo doing this. But there were others. Social media would later help connect me with like-minded souls who continually inspire me (I recently wrote about this). Different people love snakes and reptiles for different reasons, but if I had to guess, I’d say that empathy is a huge factor. Amid the masses of humans on this planet, a tiny fraction have bypassed society’s tendency to demonize snakes and I just happen to be one of those. It is a blessing and a curse. I am privileged to be in the presence of these animals either in my house, where I keep a very small collection, or in the wild, where thankfully many can still be found. But boy, is it hard to defend snakes - and myself for loving them.
Because of snakes, I’m a pretty hardened skeptic and critical thinker. It’s hard not to be when virtually everything on the news about snakes is categorically false. In the US, I find that people generally believe what they are told - or what they want to believe. And snakes are steeped in centuries of folk tales and mythological nonsense, the basis of which is arguably rooted in biblical writings. Those who are disseminating snake information too often have little to no first hand experience with or knowledge of snakes, but fear sells and at the end of the day, that’s what matters. So I approach media output with a grain of salt in all areas because that same principle applies across the board.
