A Keeper's Tale, Conclusion: Hope

Green Anaconda (Steven G. Johnson/Creative Commons)

by guest writer Hodari Nundu
Because of that newly found respect for the life of insectsand rodents, I couldn´t help but feel uneasy while cleaning the rat cages.
It turned out that my friend who was scared of tarantulaswas also not particularly fond of rats. I couldn´t help but laugh at this, butI agreed to be the "rat handler" (the one who would take the rats out of thecages and into boxes during the cleaning) in exchange for him dealing with thepiles of rat excrement that were a lot less appealing to me.
We spent hours cleaning the rat cages and during all thattime, I couldn´t help but to notice that the rats would stand up on their hindlegs and look at me with great attention, following my every move. I wonderedwhat was going through their minds. Where they expecting to be fed? Or maybethey realized we were new? Whatever was in their minds, I couldn´t help but thinkthat they were rather cute. It was a shame that all of them would end up assnake food.
I wondered if the rats had any idea of what was going tohappen to them. And then I realized that I was talking to them. Whenever Imoved a female rat out of the cage, I would tell it that it was OK, that Iwouldn´t harm its pups, and that they would be reunited as soon as I cleanedthe cage. I would also announce that I had fresh, clean water for them. Andthen I would enjoy the sight of them happily drinking the clean water.
My friend, busy with the excrement and the huge garbage binin the other side of the room, wasn´t paying attention -- but I realized that Iwas being nice to the rats, and then it struck me that when the time came toget them out of the cages and break their necks. . .  well, it would feel like treason. Maybe notfor the rats, because they were killed very quickly and painlessly (or at leastthat's what Salvador told us). But to me, it would be worse than beating themto death with the dustpan. I had cared for them and provided food and water forthem, and even comforted them when they were scared. After all of that, killingthem didn´t feel right at all. Yes, I knew and accepted the fact that in thisworld, some creatures have to eat others to survive. It is the way of nature. Butat least in the wild the rat had a chance to escape. Here, they had no way of avoidingtheir grisly fate.
There was no point in lying to myself. I was not meant forthis job.
Burmese Python (Hodari Nundu)

The moment came to tell Salvador the truth. I wasn´t willingto kill rats to feed the snakes. I knew that it had to be done- I just didn´twant to be the one to do it.
I must confess I felt kind of embarrassed. For anadventurous teenager like I was, it felt like being weak. I also expected himto be irritated; after all, if you go to a zoo asking to be a zookeeper, you'resupposed to be ready to kill a few feeder rats, right?
But he was actually quite nice about it. He told me that heunderstood, and he even allowed me to stay and become sort of a "presenter" forthe reptile house.
From that moment on, my job consisted basically in carryinga huge Burmese python over my shoulders and talking to visitors about snakes,their importance, and how they weren´t slimy monsters created by the Devil totorment human kind. I must say I really enjoyed this job. It made me feel likeI was actually doing something important.
Mexico is still the richest country in the world when itcomes to reptiles. However, at the same time, it is a very bad place to live ifyou are one. People kill harmless snakes and lizards out of fear and ignorance.Attacks on humans by crocodiles (even attacks caused by the humans themselves)are often followed by petitions to have the ancient reptiles culled. Manyreptiles are endangered, or have already gone extinct. Some people believe itis too late to save our wildlife. Cities are growing fast, jungles and forestsare being devastated; the future looks grim for many creatures.
Then again, some people are too quick to give up.
I always felt this way whenever I saw children looking atthe Burmese python in awe, touching its skin, wanting to learn everything therewas to know about it. There was a lot of interest- especially from the youngervisitors. Older people seemed less enthusiastic about changing their mindsabout the animals they had learned to fear and despise, but children wereeasily fascinated by the cold blooded creatures.
A ten year old boy surprised me one day with hisnear-encyclopedic knowledge on pythons. We spent over an hour talking about thebiggest Reticulated Pythons ever found, and about the snakes' amazing senses,hunting techniques and anatomical traits. I don´t think I ever had such a fluentconversation with an adult as I had that day with that kid. Nothing of what Itold him was new to him. Likewise, nothing of what he said was new to me, but Ithink he actually liked that. He probably had never spoken to another personwho enjoyed learning about snakes as much as he did.
Eventually, I had to take the python back to its enclosurewhen it became a little bit too interested in the boy's face. His grandfatherwas terrified, but the kid was exultant. When I asked the old man how did theboy know so much about snakes, he said "They're his passion. He is always reading about them".
Some time later, I was standing in front of the GreenAnaconda's enclosure. A little girl and her father were besides me. The girlread the information sign besides the snake's terrarium, and asked her father:
"What does endangered mean?"
"It means that there are very few of them left" said theman.
"Why?"
"Well, because people have hunted them too much".
The girl looked at her father, then at the thick, heavy,motionless green snake coiled in the corner of the terrarium. She looked at herfather again.
"That's terrible!" she said "We have to save them!"

I couldn´t help but to smile.
If little boys read tons about pythons, and little girls wantto save the anaconda from extinction, then there must be hope for the rest of thecreatures.
It is not too late at all.