What's so weird?

What’s So Weird About Being a Herper?
By Allen Salzberg

To most civilians (i.e., non-herpers), reptiles and amphibians are just
plain weird. Some have shells. Others have no legs. Many eat (yuck!)
bugs or (double yuk!) mice and rats.

To these same civilians, herpers come in a close second in the weird
category. And as you know, we herpers are proud of our weirdness.

This is especially true of herpers who are willing to go way beyond
what “normal” society defines as the call of duty in terms of taking care
of animals.

As the owner of HerpArts.com, an on-line gift store for reptile and
amphibian lovers, it’s inevitable that my daily e-mail contains at least
one good, “You wouldn’t believe …” story from a herper.

Many of these stories involve food, both human and herp.

For instance, there's the creation of two shopping lists—one for
humans, the other for herps. And the issue of who gets the best quality food.
In this case, the humans always lose. The family gets the canned goods,
the iceberg lettuce, maybe a chopped tomato and cucumber for their
salad; their herps enjoy the freshest, and most expensive Boston or
red-leafed lettuce, fresh cantaloupe, and hothouse tomatoes.

When there's a pet shop in the mall next to the supermarket, a third
shopping list is also created. This one includes mice, feeder goldfish,
superworms and crickets.

Herping has been known to change the way herpers look at other animals.

Take the lady from the Midwest who hates cockroaches. Now she raises
them. They make excellent treats for her bearded dragons.

Or the avid Texas baseball fan that, during night games, can’t keep his
attention from straying from the field to the bugs flying around the
lights. Hmm, he thinks, wouldn't my lizard love some of those bugs?

Of course, herper madness does not stop with food. A couple I know love
to shop for furniture. That's because they've converted lots of their
old furniture into cages.

Others have remodeled a room—into a walk in-cage for a full-grown
iguana. Some rip out prized rose bushes so their turtles can have a bigger
pond.

There's even been serious negotiations over whether or not to add a
wing to the family house—not just for herps to move into, but to display a
herper's hundreds (or was that thousands?) of herp knick-knacks.

Herps of course, start to affect many other parts of your life.

Your family complains that they don’t see you anymore. Or they refuse
to let you leave the house without a written promise not to return with
another snake, frog or turtle.

You start to develop different sets of friends—herp people…and everyone
else.

And when your spouse says, “Either the herps go or I go!” you hesitate.
You negotiate. You beg, bargain and plea.

This is where the Herp Postnuptial Agreement was first introduced. In
the case of herp lovers married to each other, it lays out how who gets
what herps. (Only kidding; but it sounds like a good idea.)

It’s not all bad though.

Your friends and family always know what to get you for your birthday,
Mother's Day, Father's Day, or wedding anniversary—anything related to
your favorite herp.

These same people also start to visit you more often. After all, you
have a better, more varied and healthier herp collection than the local
zoo. And the kids can ask the “zoo-keeper “ all the questions they want.

And that is something any owner of any animal (dog, cat, bird or herp)
most desires—being about to talk about your beloved pets for as long as
you like!

Allen Salzberg recently collected the best of these stories, with his
wife Anita Salzberg (author of Confessions of a Turtle Wife), in their
best-selling book, You Know You’re a Herper…When You Dream in Green.
available at HerpArts.com, Amazon.com, and Barnesandnoble.com. Originally
written and published for the Mid-Atlantic Reptile Show program May 17,
18, 2005.