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Published: August 24th 2007
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Lazy days in Guadalajara
One of our patients waits for his vitamins on the work surface... I’m deep in the heart of central Mexico. Guadalajara. Part of a volunteer team at an animal care centre, I spend every day up to my elbows in chicken heads and lizard poo. No English is spoken and other than a few near-death-by-racoons incidents, I feel at ease in my Hispanic world… well… until yesterday…
…The indoor reptiles are separated from the rest of the animals. Predominantly because they stink. Oh, and most are highly venomous snakes. To enter the room you need a senior member of staff, a key and an ability to only breathe through your mouth…
… Yesterday one of the biologists wanted me to help him clean out the tanks. Ever intrigued to work with the caymans and get sneak peeks at the boas, cobras and other legless devils, I was delighted…
For an hour or so we waded knee high in the pond of lizards and turtles giving it a birthday clean out. Wow, it’s a stinky job. You have to sieve the murky water with your bare hands trying to catch as many of the wriggling iguanas and turtles as you can. Once you’ve got a firm
Squeeky clean
Feeling pleased with myself after cleaning out the turtle pool grip and hopefully not too many bites, you hose them off and into a basket they go. The plug is pulled, the concrete pool scrubbed. Hose turned on and in go all your cold blooded friends. Voila… one squeaky clean pond and two filthy workers.
Now immune to bad smells we were sufficiently prepared to open the ‘prohibited’ door. The small, hot and poorly ventilated room is filled from floor to ceiling with reptile tanks. Deadly snakes and spiders. Venomous tree frogs. Rapidly growing baby caymen. All staring at us from their soiled tanks like smug babies needing a good nappy change. If only I could put the smell into words…
My biologist friend, clearly in the mood for showing off some intellect reeled off everything he knew about every species in the room. Typically British and not wanting to be impolite, I oooh-ed and aaah-ed in all the right places. I was in there for ages.
Keen to get a word in and practice my Spanish I asked him which snake was his favourite. He pointed to one of the big rattles. A burnt yellow coil of fatty scales that looked dead it
Hungry babies
My mornings begin with feeding our in house baby possums was so still. How wrong I was…
He then went on to describe what happens if you get bitten by this particular snake. Despite it’s dull appearance compared to say, the the vibrant albino boas in the room, the effects of it’s bite are fatal. “Even if it's just a squirt”, warned my Mexican mentor, “if it sprays you in your eyes you can die. It gets in your blood stream and that’s that.” Ok. I get it.
But... no sooner had he said that, he turned his back and began another monologue. My curiosity was insatiable. I was a fool, a real fool.
The cover of the tank was only a mesh of metal gauze with air holes wide enough to fit a pencil. I moved my face right above it and stared down at the apparently sleeping serpent. I must stress again, this thing looked like it hadn’t moved in years, let alone had a pulse.
In a split second the creature uncoiled. It leapt right up at me and sprayed its venom all over my face…
...I have never been so terrified in my life. I stood
Meow
A beautful Lynx that had been abandonned by it's owners was brought into us one day frozen in shock. Afraid to make matters worse, I left the venom to dry on my face. I didn’t want to rub any more into my eyes.
Now aware of my sudden silence, my companion couldn’t work
out what had happened. It had been a split second and behind his back. I felt so stupid. I had just been warned!
I thought I got some in my right eye but I think it just went all over my cheek and lips. I nearly peed myself right there and then. I thought right. That’s it. I am going to die. I have just been told. And I am going to die.
I was too embarrassed to say anything. To anyone. Knowing a supply of anti-venom sat in the fridge I hung about for a little longer than normal. Realizing by then that I probably was going to live, I thanked my stars and ran all the way home. Home to a good shower and my Mexican mama’s tortillas. Just another day I guess, living the vida loca.
By Sarah Blackett ©
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