The horror child…

I had a conversation with my wife the other day – about how horrible kids get in their puberty. I claimed that I had never been so extreme, that I had had only a few weird ticks that were a bit off-putting, but that they were ‘not so bad’.

My puberty years, all the way up to early adolescence (and beyond), were characterized by one thing; a relentless obsession with reptiles.

For at least a decade, reptiles were the only thing I cared about. For my 10th birthday I got my first snake. Since then, I have tormented my mother begging for permission to buy every affordable species available on the market – at least once.

“Hi Mom, look at this snake. It is very interesting/beautiful/cool/whatever, can I buy it.”

I wanted to go to every reptile event and buy as many reptiles as my small income would let me. I always came up with reasons to get more. She mostly said no. Yet, the number would always somehow increase and no one could explain how. Around my 20th, when I moved out, I probably had about 150-200 snakes*.  

I was an absolute horror child (but at least I didn’t do drugs).

I have lost most of the pictures of my snake collection at the time. This is something I quite regret now. This was one of my pigmy rattlesnakes (Sistrurus catenatus tergeminus).

————————————————————————————————————————–*That often included a bunch of offspring that came and went throughout the year.

Published by Robin Heinen

Father of two | Husband | Entomologist and Ecologist | Postdoctoral Researcher @ TUM | Traveler | Coffee Addict

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