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Posted by Flavia Guimaraes on July 25, 2002 at 22:37:02:
In Reply to: CO Press: Creature comforts posted by Wes von Papineδu on July 25, 2002 at 17:07:45:
: DAILY CAMERA (Boulder, Colorado) 25 July 02 Creature comforts - Colorado Reptile Rescue provides a home for injured or abandoned snakes, turtles and lizards (Julie Marshall)
: Griz, a 3-foot-long iguana, climbs Ann-Elizabeth Nash's arm like it was a tree. The green lizard pauses at Nash's shoulder and flicks a soft, round red tongue onto her cheek.
: What looks like an iguana "kiss" is not a display of affection, as one might receive from a dog, explains Nash, the founder of the largest licensed sanctuary for reptiles and amphibians in Colorado. An iguana flicks its tongue to explore the world.
: "But it's still an interesting interaction," she says. "And it's still very exciting."
: For nearly five years, Nash, along with her husband, Jonathan Scupin, has operated Colorado Reptile Rescue, a nonprofit located in their Boulder County home. The couple takes in injured or abandoned snakes, turtles and lizards. Native species, including snapper turtles, can be returned to the wild, but the overwhelming majority of reptiles need care and, eventually, a new home. Prospective new owners are screened thoroughly and pay a $35 adoption fee. The facility will host an open house on Aug. 3 and 4 for people who are thinking about adopting.
: Many of the sanctuary's residents come from animal shelters that aren't equipped to handle them and, as a rule, don't adopt out reptiles. If Colorado Reptile Rescue did not exist, these critters would be euthanized, says Humane Society of Boulder Valley executive director Jan McHugh-Smith. Her shelter transferred 12 reptiles to the Longmont sanctuary last year.
: "What's really great about Colorado Reptile Rescue is that they are able to educate people about proper care," McHugh-Smith says.
: Over the years, an eclectic group of cold-blooded critters has come in the door from individuals and area pet shelters. This week Nash and Scupin share their home with a 3-foot-long caiman and four monitor lizards an animal with lightning speed and a gray forked tongue that resembles its larger relative, the Komodo dragon. The caiman will soon go to a sanctuary in Texas.
: Since moving into a larger home on the outskirts of Longmont last fall, the reptile rescuers have been able to accommodate many more creatures.
: On June 1, the shelter passed a benchmark of 400 animals nearly double last year's total population.
: In addition to the three-bedroom, 1,800-square-foot house, the property includes a horse barn, shed and room for several aluminum and wooden outdoor turtle pens. It's a wonderful change, says Nash, whose living room in her former house was a maze of glass aquariums. But the work can be overwhelming as the number of animals, particularly iguanas today there are 150 continues to grow. Euthanasia has become a necessary evil.
: "It's frustrating," says Nash as she pets Griz an iguana who has been up for adoption for two years this month.
: Griz, like many refugees, has a sad story. The iguana is blind and came in with abscesses all over her body; one on her head was big as a softball. Today the iguana is a healthy girl.
: "She gets along with all the other iggies," Nash says.
: Rescue work is a passion that, fortunately, the neighbors appear to tolerate well.
: Dick Bergland lives across the street from the sanctuary and doesn't see anything unusual about sharing the block with odd creatures, such as a tortoise that was born to roam Africa's savannas.
: "My thought is that every creature under God has the right to be rescued," Bergland says.
: Nash first got hooked on iguanas after house-sitting for a friend's iguana and started taking in unwanted specimens. Unfortunately, there's not a lot of public funding available to shelters that specialize in reptiles, she says. So the couple must keep their day jobs: Nash is an administrator for NCAR; Scupin is an electrical engineer.
: The couple is self-taught in reptile husbandry. Learning how to handle anything, from a gecko to a 60-pound python, is a joy and a challenge, they say.
: "I love to sit on the floor with a bouquet of cilantro and let them (iguanas) climb on my lap," Nash says. "I love learning about each one's personality."
: Most people don't take the time to learn. A cute baby iggie can easily turn into a snarly adult if you don't handle it every day, Scupin says. Many owners give their reptiles to a shelter or even worse, turn them loose because kids end up afraid, or bored with their pets.
: Success stories keep their spirits up, Nash says. Sophie was an abandoned iguana who found a permanent home in Georgia. The reptile's new owners even have created a Web site www.mikeandcarolyn.com dedicated to their beloved pet. The majority of abandoned reptiles are local, but most adoptions are out-of-state, Nash explains.
: In the living room of the Longmont sanctuary, a newcomer is being rehabilitated. An iguana named Charlie suffers from stunted growth and brittle bones that poke out from his skin, because he wasn't fed the proper diet by his first owners.
: "This guy first came in with his tail whipping and his mouth open, ready to bite," Scupin says.
: Next to iguanas, the most often relinquished animal is the red-eared slider, a turtle with red stripes on the sides of its head that goes for less than $10 at a pet store. Last week there were more than a dozen at the sanctuary, swimming in a 5-foot wide aluminum pen.
: Nash cups a baby slider, its shell marked in green paisley design, in her palm. She wants to make clear that the sanctuary does not promote reptiles as pets. However, reptiles are no longer exotic and have become part of the mainstream pet trade, she says, adding that she wishes more shelters would open their doors to iguanas and their cousins alike.
: The city of Boulder has outlawed some reptiles, but not enough, according to Nash. For instance, it's still legal to buy a sulcata tortoise, a prehistoric-looking docile creature that needs more room and care than most people are able to provide.
: Merlin, the sanctuary's sulcata, lumbers across the yard on slow-moving, elephantine legs. His shell, which should be smooth, is warped from a lack of protein early in his life. His owner left him at the Denver Dumb Friends League. Today, Merlin is a permanent guest at Longmont's sanctuary.
: "Most people have no business owning a sulcata unless they own a lot of land and have a clause in their will," Nash says.
: Scupin nods his head in agreement.
: "He'll get to be 150 pounds and live to 100, no problem."
: IF YOU GO
: WHAT Colorado Reptile Rescue Open House
: WHEN Noon to 5 p.m. Aug. 3 and 4
: WHERE 13941 Elmore Road, Longmont
: CALL (303) 776-2070
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