In
the concrete block cellar of the building that houses the moon bears and snow
leopards at Roger Williams Park Zoo is a brightly lit room where unrecognized
visitors are welcomed with a mesmerizing clatter produced by some of the 16 Eastern
timber rattlesnakes that reside there. Heated to 82 degrees, the room is lined
with large, clear plastic cages along two walls, each containing an adult
rattlesnake about four feet in length, two of which are believed to be pregnant.
A vertical rack containing 12 plastic tubs stands against a third wall, each
home to a juvenile rattler less than half the length of the adults.
The snakes are unexpectedly
attractive and strikingly patterned, some colored in yellows and browns while
others are dressed in smoky gray and white. One adult male displayed a yellow triangular
head with chocolate brown chevrons along the length of his golden back,
which
blended into a velvety black tail that didn’t stop rattling during the entire
15-minute visit.
Lou Perrotti and New England cottontail. (Photo by James Jones) |
Lou Perrotti, 53, director of
conservation at the zoo and an expert snake handler since his junior high
school days, says the rattlesnakes are usually silent when their regular
zookeepers attend them. “But new faces get the full treatment,” he adds.
The subterranean room is a captive
rearing center for New England’s only native rattlesnake, an endangered species
that disappeared from Rhode Island in the 1960s and whose few remaining
colonies in the Northeast are declining precipitously due to habitat loss and
poaching. A newly-discovered fungal disease that causes skin lesions and
blisters on their faces is contributing to the high mortality rate.
When Perrotti heard about the
disease, he recruited the veterinarians at the zoo to study how prevalent it
was in New England. They found it everywhere they surveyed. So he partnered
with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to launch a captive breeding effort. By
taking rattlesnakes from healthy populations and breeding them at the zoo so
their offspring can be released into the wild, Perrotti and his colleagues are
augmenting snake populations that are barely sustaining themselves.
“And then we decided that creating a new
population would be awesome,” he says. Biologists identified a small island in
the Quabbin Reservoir in central Massachusetts as the ideal location. “We
thought the site was brilliant. It has plenty of habitat, plenty of food, it’s
off limits to humans. It just made sense to create a secure population there.”
It didn’t turn out that way. When the public got
wind of the plan, their vocal objections – which Perrotti says were based on
little more than fear and speculation – quickly scuttled the project.
“We were doing what we thought was the best thing
to keep this endangered animal on the planet,” Perrotti says. “We can’t only
protect the cute and cuddly animals. They all deserve to be protected. This
project was....
Continue reading this article in the January issue of Rhode Island Monthly magazine.
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