I was allowed to have nearly any animal as a pet, except for snakes. My mom, who made most of the rules in our family about things like that, was very clear about that: No snakes.
That provided a path for me to have:
- A caiman that my brother Bruce brought back as a gift from a vacation in Florida that grew so large it could not straighten its tail in the aquarium where I kept it.
- A baby groundhog that never understood it would be best if it did not bite the hand that fed it while that hand was placing the food in its bowl. Feeling vulnerable in its cage, the groundhog lashed out with those capable front teeth every time I put a finger in there with it. The animal was soon returned to the wild.
- Dozens of field mice and voles captured under the half-barrel runway markers of a private airfield and dropped into a terrarium on my bureau, where I witnessed everything from births to vicious attacks.
- A toad kept in another terrarium on the corner of my desk, from where it watched me while I did homework, actually crawling to better vantage spots. The toad lived with us for several years and came to enjoy head rubs, leaning into them with everything it had.
- A raccoon that allowed itself to be held and played with, until it hit maturity. Even through leather gloves, the raccoon managed some painful bites before it was released back into the wild.
- A cockroach kept in a miniature replica of a zoo cage long enough to shed its shell to grow several times.
- A range of chickens and ducks, including some of those dyed purple or pink or blue for Easter basket delivery.
- Various baby birds and bunnies rescued from threatening situations and soon returned to their parents.
- Box turtles, wood turtles, snapping turtles and more.
- And, the normal range of dogs, cats, hamsters, guinea pigs and domestic rabbits.
But, no snakes. That was the rule, until one day I captured a tiny, orange-bellied ringneck snake. I brought it home in a coffee can with small holes punched in the lid and begged, pleaded and promised things until Mom relented. I could keep the snake in the basement, for a couple days.
The next morning the can was empty, except for the weeds and grass I had dropped in there as a temporary habitat for the snake. The reptile was nowhere to be found, not in the can, not in the basement, nowhere in the house.
We decided to believe that the snake had found an escape route to the outside world. We had no proof that was what happened, but that was the most comfortable explanation.
My mom also found comfort in the reinstitution of the no-snakes rule.
