Part 4 of the story I ended the last part with my heading to Florida to work for Crutchfield but before I get I to that I need to introduce you to another animal passion in my life. The amazing and wonderful American Pitt Bull Terrier. A very close friend of mine moved to Durham from upstate New York and brought with him a Pitt Bull named Tank. Tank was an awesome dog. Brown and white with a white head and blue eyes. Really muscular and gorgeous. Fantastic temperament ran faster jumped higher and played harder than any dog I had ever seen. I was instantly completely and totally in love with him and wanted one for myself. Back then this breed was actually pretty rare unlike today whered you can buy a puppy for $150 anywhere. I wanted a puppy so badly that I convinced Paul to take a trip to NY where he assured me we could buy one. 12 hour drive snowing when we got there and pulled into a yard with a garage behind it and standing in a foot of snow in the headlights I saw the love of my life come running out attached to a huge logging chain by a collar on her neck. Short and stocky with bow legs. Jet glossy black with a white blaze on her chest and an off shaped diamond on the back of her neck. I paid the guy whatever he asked and took her off the chain climbing into the backseat with her in my lap and rode the whole way back bonding with the most special animal I would ever know in my entire life. Ironically Frankie (what I named her) would die while I was in prison at 17 or 18 years old living with my old friend Paul. He actually still has her ashes after having her cremated and keeping them for me until I can take them and place them and spread them on a beach somewhere as that was her favorite place to be. As I sit here writing this I come to the realization that I have not dealt with her death just as I have not dealt with the death of my mother which happened very close to the time Frankie came into my life. One of these days when I have gotten my life in order I will allow myself to grieve and it will bring me to my knees in a puddle of tears for my mother and my precious Frankie Girl! Frankie was the greatest ambassador for the breed I ever saw. Everyone who met her fell in love with her and she often changed peoples feeling about the breed and the stigma that goes along with their history and their power. Frankie spent every single minute possible with me going everywhere I went. For years we were literally inseparable. The move to Florida to work for Crutchfields Reptile Enterprises was no exception. I started working for Crutchfield and my first position with his company was the hot room. I was in charge of everything hot. You truly cannot understand what this means unless you have been to a huge importer. Just picture every single venomous reptile you have ever seen in any zoo in plastic tub rack systems similar the the way people house hundreds of ball pythons. The difference is back then everyone mostly used ambient room temps instead of having heat tape or cable meaning all day long your sweating like crazy. I had venomous experience but nothing on this scale. We are talking about all of the worlds most dangerous and deadly snakes in bulk shipments. Dozens of gaboon and rhino vipers. Rattlesnakes cobras, mambas ferdelance kingcobra puff adders neotropical rattlesnakes and bushmasters. As has been the case so far it would be so much easier to tell you the animals that were not represented instead of trying to name all that were. I truly cannot think of a single venomous snake that I didnt have the honor of working with during my time in that hot room. Definitely had close calls every day. Spent allot of time trying to smoke a cigarette to decompress after a near miss just to find I couldnt even bring it to my lips because of the trembling from the adrenaline coursing through my body. Pretty sure I owe allot of these gray hairs to those days. I remember coming in to work to find large garbage cans (that we used for storing animals while cleaning cages and for soaking pythons) sitting in the tiny hot room with lids bungeed closed. Tom and Adam (who always got a laugh at my struggles with crazy dangerous snakes) standing there chuckling to themselves watching me open the can to find a king so big and angry I had to protect myself with the garbage can lid. Literally having to use it to push the monster back down into the can. Sometimes in retrospect I wonder how I ever made it out of that little room alive every day. I remember sliding the glass open on a head high old school Neo cage one time and having a huge black Pakistani cobra come down my arm and over my shoulder dropping to the floor. Could have easily bitten me but just didnt even with the perfect opportunity. Tom also had some hots in his breeding facility. The most incredible examples of eastern diamondbacks I have ever seen. Rhino and gaboon vipers(if I am not mistaken he was the first to make hybrids with these two). I think also a colony of gilas and beaded lizards. Now I feel like I should give my opinion on Tom Crutchfield before I go forward. There is allot of animosity and ignorance surrounding him because of his convictions. I will say that I personally have never met a more knowledgeable person when it comes to reptiles in general and whether you agree or disagree with his practices not one of you in this country that has a reptile. Not a single person is not affected by the influence he had on this industry. There are entire groups of popular animals that would not be here were it not for him. In my opinion a true legend and we are all forever in his debt. During my time working for Tom on my days off I would go exploring. Now I would love to tell you a story about my first ride on an airboat. There was a a seefood restaurant on Lake Panasofskee which was a gorgeous swampy lake common to central Florida. Moss hanging from the trees and floating islands of grass with trees actually growing on them. After eating at the restaurant we walked outside and to the side of the parking lot was a small marina with a sign that was offering airboat tours. Early warm evening giving me an adventurous feeling. We walked over to talk to the guy tinkering with the airboat. He has a gorgeous giant white Pitt bull with him covered head to foot in brutal scars. We discussed the tour and decided on a two hour extended trip. I had Frankie with me in the car and he said it would be fine for her to join us. I let her out and the big white male introduced himself to her and the romped and played in the manner common with the breed jumping and growling and nipping but not really trying to hurt each other. He quickly pinned her to the ground established his dominance over her. She accepted and they were the best of friends from then on. We spend a couple of hours touring the lake an catching small gators by hand off the side of the boat and our tour guide starting talking about his passion for wild boar hunting. This guy was as backwoods redneck as they come but a really good person. In describing the boar hunting he explained that all you need is a good dog and a pocket knife. He also said if we are ok with it he might put his dog on one if we saw it during out return. It wasnt five minutes later he killed the loud motor and pulled up to one of the floating islands of grass with small trees growing on it. As the bow of the airboat touched the island both dogs went over and dissapeared into the trees. I was scared for my Frankie at at the same time really impressed that she went so seemingly instinctually into the hunt. Just few moments and we heard the tell tale squeezing that hogs make. Blood curtling shrieking. The tour guide went over waving me forward and at the time I was probably 300 pounds or so. As I put my weight onto one foot on the grass I went straight through. He had to pull me up and quickly showed me how to walk on the grass lightly as to not all through again and we were off towards the screaming. I will tell you that when we got to the scene I was in total shock on every single level. The hog was massive. Later he told me SHE WS a little over 200 pounds which although large for Florida standards doesnt seem right because this animal looked at least 500 pound to me and really scary. Huge tusks snapping and snarling while the entire time screaming the most amazing ear piercing squeeling of bloody murder. The next shocking thing I noticed was the his dog had her by her ear but Frankie had her by the snout. Frankie was in the 60 pound range and very well muscled in build but next to this beast she looked tiny and every few seconds the hog would shake her body and head trying to get away from these dogs literally throe Wing my tough little Frankie around but she wouldnt let go. Something seriously primal had come out in her and I liked seeing it and understanding how much she was enjoying this more than I had ever seen her with anything else. The guide grabbed the hog by the back legs and rolled it over on its back and tried to get me to grab the legs keeping it from righting itself. I was reluctant or maybe scared as hell is better wording but I grabbed her and he jumped on her with predatory intent and silenced this amazing animal with a very talented cut of his blade. So before everyone freaks out about the cruelty of this hunt please put down your pork chops and ham and cheese sandwiches so you dont choke on your own hipocrisy! Lol! The hog was drung back to the boat by both of us and after gutting the animal I was able to look at Frankie a little closer and figured out why his dog was covered with so many scars and just how much danger she had been in. Frankie had ahalf dozen or more finger sized holes in her sides from the tusks of the hog. I have to interject here that I would never stop Frankie from doing this sport and she went on many of these hunts during our years in Florida for what some would call protecting her. She loved it and would scream with a lusty passion that I never saw in her in any other aspect of her personality. I would never have chosen to keep her from doing what she loved the most in her entire life. We ended our amazing experience with our guide inviting us to a cookout to eat some wild pork. Much stronger flavor but delicious nonetheless. After a few months I was approached by Tom with an offer to further my career. He had noticed my ability to sell animals during the times I took calls from customers asking questions about the hots and mentioned that he thought I would be much more valuable running a jobber route selling animals to pet shops. He gave me free access to cherry pick from everything available and pack my car every couple of days driving anywhere I could to find pet shops. It sound easy but there was all of of competition. I was still able to sell allot of animals. I had been considering another pittbull addition to the family. In my travels I ran across and add for puppies somewhere. On my next day off I called and was invited over. I had never previously experienced a large kennel. The extent of my experience to this date was people who had pets that they bred and sold the puppies. As I pulled into the gate of Desperado Kennels I stepped into a different world. There were 80 plus dogs on chains close to each other but not close enough to touch and a symphony of chaos that I would always love as every single high spirited dog expressed its amazing glory barking and howling and running circles on their chains
Posted on: Thu, 08 Jan 2015 05:00:05 +0000
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