I often credit the plains garter snake for my love of snakes, and that largely holds true. But there was one particular snake that expanded my understanding of snakes and represented a gateway to the multitude of snakes that lived beyond the streets of Chicago. I think it's about time to memorialize this animal.
As usual, I like to provide some backstory. In the early nineties, I befriended a neighborhood boy who had recently moved to Chicago from northwestern Georgia. He was an outdoors type, like I was, but came from a place very different from the city and his range of outdoors activities far surpassed mine. In his bedroom stood a chest of drawers topped by a ten-gallon aquarium, and in that aquarium lived what he called an "Egyptian ratsnake" (I would much later come to understand that this was a diadem ratsnake (Spalerosophis diadema). It was often coiled tightly on the green astroturf, next to its hot rock. Every time I'd go to my friend's house, I would gravitate toward this snake. I spent a lot of time looking at and holding it. Then a few months later, it was gone and in its place was a hatchling California kingsnake. That one didn't last long for one reason or another, and it was swiftly replaced by an adult "Florida corn snake".
I was extremely fascinated by this corn snake. It was about four feet long and clad in earthy oranges and browns with a black and white checkerboard belly. In the absence of a hide, it too spent its days coiled atop the Astroturf next to the hot rock. And I don't believe a day went by when I didn't take it out to handle it. The only attention it received from my friend was during feeding time. My friend fed it live mice, and the snake would almost immediately strike and constrict the mouse until it was dead. Then it swallowed the mouse whole. This was all new to me, since the garters at my house were fed worms and minnows and simply grabbed and swallowed them alive.
I know this probably sounds weird to many people, but I noticed that the corn snake not only felt different than the garters, but it smelled different too. It's tough to describe, but it's a clean smell. I call it the "corn snake smell". I notice that all corn snakes smell exactly the same - even slightly distinct from other members of its genus such as grey ratsnakes.
After about a year or two, my friend's family returned to Georgia. My friend gifted me the corn snake before he left, knowing it would be in good hands. This was shortly after my parents separated, so the timing was serendipitous. My dad never allowed any snakes in the house - not even my garters. Those had to be kept in terrariums on our patio table, underneath an awning. Now I had a legit collection - garters and a corn snake - in my modest bedroom (thanks, mom).
Keeping a four-foot snake in a twenty-inch enclosure didn't feel right. One day, my mom drove me to Pet Supplies Plus where she bought me a forty gallon "breeder" terrarium. I also selected a large bag of fir bark chips to replace the lousy and unsightly artificial turf. To this day, I can never smell this kind of bark and not be whisked away to my first corn snake enclosure. The huge new enclosure took up every inch of desk space, giving me another reason to avoid doing my homework.
Sometimes we called him "Cornflake the corn snake", but I don't think he ever had an official name (I wasn't into naming herps). He was with me the first time I ever presented about snakes to an audience, when I was in the eighth grade. I remember having to get permission from my principal to bring a snake into the school, and I was happy when permission was granted. The principal stood by the door while I held the snake and talked to my class; the talk was so well-received that I was asked to do the same presentation for two other grades. Skip class and talk about snakes? A no-brainer.
My family moved to a new house in the late summer of 1996, and therefore so did my corn snake (and a few others I had acquired since). In 1997, I bought a second corn snake, an adult amelanistic female, with the intent on breeding the snakes. I was a few years deep into Reptiles magazine, had devoured every single book on snakes I could find, and felt like I was ready to take this next step. After some cycling and conditioning, I introduced my male corn snake to the female in the spring of 1998, and a couple of months later, had eggs which in turn hatched later that summer. There is an interesting story related to that process, but at the risk of deviating too far from the main subject, I digress.
Around the time my corn snake became a father, he began showing signs of failing health. He became increasingly lethargic and accepted food only sporadically, losing weight. Looking back, I should have addressed his condition with more urgency, but I was pretty enamored with this beautiful batch of baby corn snakes for the first time in my life, as well as getting the adult female back in shape after oviposition. When I see photos of him from 1998, I'm overcome with a feeling of guilt, even though his condition may have been untreatable. He died in early 1999.
In the coming years, I'd work with countless other snakes, even though my primary interests revolved around the natural history of wild snakes (and still do). But the lasting effects of owning and caring for my first corn snake are undeniable. I hope, somewhere out there, his progeny are inspiring other kids the way he inspired me.