Clay Davenport
Cerebral Nomad
Portsmouth, N.H. (AP) - For Kevin McCurley and Kara Glasgow, ofNew England Reptile Distributors in Plaistow, art lays eggs.
Art also sheds its skin, eats thawed rodents and sleeps coiledup. Like all art, theirs is expensive - worth thousands of dollars- and like paintings hung in Paris' Louvre, some of it ispriceless. Unlike oil on canvas, though, this art breathes,slithers and eventually dies.
Monet this ain't.
McCurley, 39, and his crew at N.E.R.D. selectively breed ballpythons to achieve different color morphs, or variations in thesnakes' colors and patterns. They use simple recessive, co-dominantand dominant genetics to turn regular brown ball pythons intodifferent combinations of lavender, white, yellow, pale orange orred.
To these herpeculturists, this type of breeding is living art.
"It's kinda like playing God, but not really," said Glasgow,27. "It's more like walking into Baskin Robbins and you've got 31flavors, but here you've got ball pythons in 40 different colors."
McCurley says it's about the satisfaction of a successfulsurprise - or a "clutch" of offspring that exhibit the colorationtraits McCurley was hoping to produce.
"It's cool when they're hatching; it's like you made life,"said McCurley.
McCurley, 39, and Glasgow, 27, might as well be cold-blooded.Their favorite smell is the earthy musk of hatching snake eggs.They handle snakes like they're picking up their car keys. They caneasily pop a hemipene or two and tell if a snake is male or female,and they know which snakes are feisty and which are friendly.
And once you step into N.E.R.D., the passion is obvious. Insteadof rows of guinea pigs and goldfish, they house animals by the nameof White Lip, Black Blood, Jungle Carpet, Fire-Belly and Red-Tailin stacked Rubbermaid containers. Their laboratory faintly smellsof rats, mulch, stagnant water and rubbing alcohol, and thethermostat is always cranked to 85 degrees. It's not unusual tofind dried, white snakeskin on the ground next to a dog bowl fullof water, or a sign on the refrigerator that says "Do not takerodents out of freezer!"
There is a 9-year-old alligator named Wally in the basement that"don't bother nobody, like a dog," according to N.E.R.D. employeeBill Schubert, and two rhinoceros iguanas that like to cuddle in acage next to the office. But the backbone of the N.E.R.D. operationis messing with the genes of ball pythons.
McCurley got his first boa constrictor in grade school. Hisinterest was sparked after spending long hours poking around in thewoods as a kid.
"I played with bugs, so I wouldn't be a play toy for my olderbrothers who used to like to torture me," McCurley said with achuckle. "I used to find garter snakes; I was exposed to it at ayoung age."
As a teenager, McCurley began hanging around at his local petstore in Lexington, Mass., and started collecting snakes in hisbasement. Eleven years ago, McCurley said, he gave up working for"the man," took his two degrees in computer science and computerelectronics, and his $7,000 snake collection, and moved to NewHampshire, where the laws about keeping reptiles are more lenient.N.E.R.D. was born in a raw basement about half the size of thecurrent Plaistow location and began as a straight snake-breedingoperation. Eight years ago, he successfully bred his first albinoball python and effectively created the market for ball pythonmorphs.
"There was little out there before," said McCurley. "Peopleconsidered ball pythons to be trash snakes. But they're perfectbecause they don't lay too many eggs; they stay small and they'llnever overpower a household."
Currently, he has more ball python morphs than anyone. N.E.R.D.sells most of their snakes to breeders, collectors and investors.
"Anyone who spends $20,000 on a snake is going to breed it andmake more money for themselves," said Glasgow.
But in order to keep the value of his living commodities high,McCurley only produces a select number of the 5-foot wonders peryear, and he doesn't sell to his biggest competitors.
"I'm my own best customer," said McCurley. "My competitiondoesn't have the morphs I have."
It takes several generations of careful breeding to produce themost valuable snakes - the ones that not only look amazing, butcarry the genes to make other potential morphs. In this respect,McCurley equates his profession to dog breeding. For example, asnake like the Killer Bee Spider Ball, a striking pale yellowreptile drizzled with swirling, jagged blackout-purple stripes andspots, is valued at $85,000. The price is so steep because of theserpent's breeding capacity and the fact that there are only threeor four in existence. The BumbleBee Spider Ball, the predecessorand parent of the Killer Bee, is valued at $45,000 because itcarries the gene for normal ball pythons, pastel ball pythons,spider ball pythons and BumbleBee Spider Ball pythons.
"They're beautiful, but they can also reproduce themselves,"said McCurley of morphs' high price tag.
N.E.R.D. was the first to breed both the pastel and spider ballpythons in captivity. The pastel is characterized by itseye-popping yellow coloration and its dark black markings. Thespider's pigmentation is lighter, and the snake has white sides anda spider web pattern on its back.
"There could be endless morphs," said McCurley, who estimatedthat there are about 30 in existence today.
At the moment, N.E.R.D. also has some snakes that money can'tbuy, like the Caramel Glow Ball Python. This orange-and-lavendersnake with the ruby red eyes is the only one in the world and, asGlasgow said, "you can't put a price tag on that."
In order to get these serpents in a reproductive mood, thebreeders forgo the Barry White and let environmental triggers setthe mood. Cooling down the temperature, raising the humidity andchanging the light cycle is like instinctive Spanish Fly forpythons. In order to tell whether a female is ready to breed, thefolks at N.E.R.D. squeeze her body, feeling for the presence ofreproductive follicles. If the follicles are developed, they placeher with a male and let pheromones do the rest. In 54 to 60 days, aclutch of anywhere from four to 16 eggs will hatch.
Not all of the eggs will hatch the morphs that McCurley isafter, and there is no way of knowing what a litter will reveal.It's not just chance, however; snake breeding follows the laws ofprobability. In the case of the Caramel Glow, the law was onMcCurley's side. Out of a one in 16 chance, he hit the morph thefirst time out. McCurley equates the thrill of a successful clutchto that of a painter whose masterpiece measures up to hisenvisioned expectation.
"When the babies stick their heads out of the egg and peopleare like 'wow,' that's satisfaction for me," said McCurley, as hewashed the membrane off a baby Bumble Bee Spider Ball still half inthe egg.
And yes, he is willing to rinse membrane down the drain. AndGlasgow is willing to coax shy snakes out of their cages withsoothing whispers of "shhhh, c'mon girl, it's gonna be allright." Because, to the N.E.R.D. employees, snakes are gorgeous,even sexy, despite their nasty reputations.
McCurley and Glasgow said they believe that people's fear ofsnakes comes from Hollywood scare tactics, religious stigma and thereptiles' lack of legs.
"There is so much information about snakes out there that's nottrue," said Glasgow, poking at a de-venomized Indian Cobra. "Wehave to put down the fear that comes with ignorance. Once you learnwhat they're all about, it's so fascinating."
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Art also sheds its skin, eats thawed rodents and sleeps coiledup. Like all art, theirs is expensive - worth thousands of dollars- and like paintings hung in Paris' Louvre, some of it ispriceless. Unlike oil on canvas, though, this art breathes,slithers and eventually dies.
Monet this ain't.
McCurley, 39, and his crew at N.E.R.D. selectively breed ballpythons to achieve different color morphs, or variations in thesnakes' colors and patterns. They use simple recessive, co-dominantand dominant genetics to turn regular brown ball pythons intodifferent combinations of lavender, white, yellow, pale orange orred.
To these herpeculturists, this type of breeding is living art.
"It's kinda like playing God, but not really," said Glasgow,27. "It's more like walking into Baskin Robbins and you've got 31flavors, but here you've got ball pythons in 40 different colors."
McCurley says it's about the satisfaction of a successfulsurprise - or a "clutch" of offspring that exhibit the colorationtraits McCurley was hoping to produce.
"It's cool when they're hatching; it's like you made life,"said McCurley.
McCurley, 39, and Glasgow, 27, might as well be cold-blooded.Their favorite smell is the earthy musk of hatching snake eggs.They handle snakes like they're picking up their car keys. They caneasily pop a hemipene or two and tell if a snake is male or female,and they know which snakes are feisty and which are friendly.
And once you step into N.E.R.D., the passion is obvious. Insteadof rows of guinea pigs and goldfish, they house animals by the nameof White Lip, Black Blood, Jungle Carpet, Fire-Belly and Red-Tailin stacked Rubbermaid containers. Their laboratory faintly smellsof rats, mulch, stagnant water and rubbing alcohol, and thethermostat is always cranked to 85 degrees. It's not unusual tofind dried, white snakeskin on the ground next to a dog bowl fullof water, or a sign on the refrigerator that says "Do not takerodents out of freezer!"
There is a 9-year-old alligator named Wally in the basement that"don't bother nobody, like a dog," according to N.E.R.D. employeeBill Schubert, and two rhinoceros iguanas that like to cuddle in acage next to the office. But the backbone of the N.E.R.D. operationis messing with the genes of ball pythons.
McCurley got his first boa constrictor in grade school. Hisinterest was sparked after spending long hours poking around in thewoods as a kid.
"I played with bugs, so I wouldn't be a play toy for my olderbrothers who used to like to torture me," McCurley said with achuckle. "I used to find garter snakes; I was exposed to it at ayoung age."
As a teenager, McCurley began hanging around at his local petstore in Lexington, Mass., and started collecting snakes in hisbasement. Eleven years ago, McCurley said, he gave up working for"the man," took his two degrees in computer science and computerelectronics, and his $7,000 snake collection, and moved to NewHampshire, where the laws about keeping reptiles are more lenient.N.E.R.D. was born in a raw basement about half the size of thecurrent Plaistow location and began as a straight snake-breedingoperation. Eight years ago, he successfully bred his first albinoball python and effectively created the market for ball pythonmorphs.
"There was little out there before," said McCurley. "Peopleconsidered ball pythons to be trash snakes. But they're perfectbecause they don't lay too many eggs; they stay small and they'llnever overpower a household."
Currently, he has more ball python morphs than anyone. N.E.R.D.sells most of their snakes to breeders, collectors and investors.
"Anyone who spends $20,000 on a snake is going to breed it andmake more money for themselves," said Glasgow.
But in order to keep the value of his living commodities high,McCurley only produces a select number of the 5-foot wonders peryear, and he doesn't sell to his biggest competitors.
"I'm my own best customer," said McCurley. "My competitiondoesn't have the morphs I have."
It takes several generations of careful breeding to produce themost valuable snakes - the ones that not only look amazing, butcarry the genes to make other potential morphs. In this respect,McCurley equates his profession to dog breeding. For example, asnake like the Killer Bee Spider Ball, a striking pale yellowreptile drizzled with swirling, jagged blackout-purple stripes andspots, is valued at $85,000. The price is so steep because of theserpent's breeding capacity and the fact that there are only threeor four in existence. The BumbleBee Spider Ball, the predecessorand parent of the Killer Bee, is valued at $45,000 because itcarries the gene for normal ball pythons, pastel ball pythons,spider ball pythons and BumbleBee Spider Ball pythons.
"They're beautiful, but they can also reproduce themselves,"said McCurley of morphs' high price tag.
N.E.R.D. was the first to breed both the pastel and spider ballpythons in captivity. The pastel is characterized by itseye-popping yellow coloration and its dark black markings. Thespider's pigmentation is lighter, and the snake has white sides anda spider web pattern on its back.
"There could be endless morphs," said McCurley, who estimatedthat there are about 30 in existence today.
At the moment, N.E.R.D. also has some snakes that money can'tbuy, like the Caramel Glow Ball Python. This orange-and-lavendersnake with the ruby red eyes is the only one in the world and, asGlasgow said, "you can't put a price tag on that."
In order to get these serpents in a reproductive mood, thebreeders forgo the Barry White and let environmental triggers setthe mood. Cooling down the temperature, raising the humidity andchanging the light cycle is like instinctive Spanish Fly forpythons. In order to tell whether a female is ready to breed, thefolks at N.E.R.D. squeeze her body, feeling for the presence ofreproductive follicles. If the follicles are developed, they placeher with a male and let pheromones do the rest. In 54 to 60 days, aclutch of anywhere from four to 16 eggs will hatch.
Not all of the eggs will hatch the morphs that McCurley isafter, and there is no way of knowing what a litter will reveal.It's not just chance, however; snake breeding follows the laws ofprobability. In the case of the Caramel Glow, the law was onMcCurley's side. Out of a one in 16 chance, he hit the morph thefirst time out. McCurley equates the thrill of a successful clutchto that of a painter whose masterpiece measures up to hisenvisioned expectation.
"When the babies stick their heads out of the egg and peopleare like 'wow,' that's satisfaction for me," said McCurley, as hewashed the membrane off a baby Bumble Bee Spider Ball still half inthe egg.
And yes, he is willing to rinse membrane down the drain. AndGlasgow is willing to coax shy snakes out of their cages withsoothing whispers of "shhhh, c'mon girl, it's gonna be allright." Because, to the N.E.R.D. employees, snakes are gorgeous,even sexy, despite their nasty reputations.
McCurley and Glasgow said they believe that people's fear ofsnakes comes from Hollywood scare tactics, religious stigma and thereptiles' lack of legs.
"There is so much information about snakes out there that's nottrue," said Glasgow, poking at a de-venomized Indian Cobra. "Wehave to put down the fear that comes with ignorance. Once you learnwhat they're all about, it's so fascinating."
Story Link (Registration required)
