Bophidius Bill Tune bctune@gmail.com When I attended college in the early-to-mid 70’s, the most economical living conditions involved sharing an apartment with two or three other people and splitting the expenses. As with all situations in life, this had its advantages and disadvantages. Occasionally someone expressed his desire for a pet dog. Of course, this was not practical considering that many college men were doing quite well to take care of themselves, much less a dog, and apartment living was not well-suited for this type of animal care. In the brief six years I spent matriculating in Austin, Texas, I had several roommates. For the last three years one of those roommates was my younger brother, Budd. In my next to last year in school, the band took an over-night trip to the Houston area and stayed with families of the band students at Angleton HS. I stayed with a family who had a pet boa constrictor. I was fascinated and quickly decided that a snake was the perfect pet for apartment living. It stayed in an aquarium, required feeding only once weekly, and was harmless fun to play with when we wanted. [Note: Snakes are not slimy, boas are not poisonous, they are not anacondas that grow to be over 20 feet long, and a boa does not try to “constrict” or choke anything bigger than it can eat.] Over time, I convinced my reluctant brother and our roommates of my brilliant idea, and eventually we purchased “Slick” from a young boy whose father had found him while working at the airport. (This was long before Snakes on a Plane.) Actually, we picked up the snake from the boy’s mother. We never knew for sure that the boy was in favor of getting rid of the snake. Sorry, kid. Slick’s cage was an aquarium covered with a piece of peg-board, weighted down with a large rock. It fit the décor of our apartment perfectly. Our next task was to re-name him. “Slick” just wasn’t doing it for us. Budd and I share the same initials: BCT. I looked up “snake” in the dictionary and discovered that the Greek word for snake is “ophidia”, so by adding a “B” to the beginning, and changing the ending to latin masculine form, I renamed “Slick”: Bophidius. By adding the logical middle name, Constrictor, we had another BCT in the family: Bophidius Constrictor Tune. I am sympathetic to people’s natural fear of snakes and tried to broaden a few horizons by demonstrating that the boa was a viable, entertaining, easy-to-care-for pet. Feeding time was usually Saturday morning, and this became quite the spectator sport. With a live mouse from a local pet store, we watched with rapt attention and waited for Bophidius to strike. It always came very suddenly, and always a surprise. Budd learned that the hard way. He soon stopped holding his cup of hot coffee during feeding time. I’m also painfully aware of those who side with the “poor, innocent mouse.” Really, people? Circle of life…. The family in Angleton that introduced me to the snake-as-a-pet concept raised their own mice. That was a bit much for apartment life, so I regularly bought Bo’s “food” at a pet store, some of which refused my business when my motives were revealed. When I finished school and took my first job as band director in a small town 40 miles northeast of Austin, Bophidius was a big hit at school. I took him once a year for show and tell. I never forced his presence on people truly frightened of snakes, and I made sure the mischievous boys did not use Bo to frighten others. My first drum major of the Thrall HS Band made a unique contribution to my pet. He clubbed a rat in his Dad’s barn and brought the deceased rodent to me in a paper bag. “Supper’s here, Bophidius!” I wasn’t sure if Bo would eat an animal that was already dead, but he did! Between my first and second year at Thrall, Beverly and I got married. While not thrilled with Bophidius’ presence, she was tolerant and had little contact with him. Her poor Mother, on the other hand, was horrified at the thought of sharing her space with a snake. Fortunately, she was willing to visit as long as we kept a cover over Bo’s cage to keep him out of sight. Bophidius was very quiet, so it worked out just fine. Beverly’s first teaching job was at the Catholic school in Taylor. Her principal was a great lady, but she, too, was deathly afraid of snakes. Bev was ill and unable to work for a few days. Her principal was gracious enough to drive the 6 miles to Thrall to check on her ailing teacher. She and Bev had a lovely visit until the principal suddenly remembered that Bev’s husband had a pet snake. She made a hasty exit. We had the only front door in Thrall with a principal-shaped hole in it. All good things must come to an end, and so it was with Bophidius. Three years later Thomas was born. The good people in town were horrified to think of that tiny baby living in a house with a snake. Actually, the only problem was that I found a newborn baby to be even more fascinating than a snake, and I started neglecting my pet, which lead to an embarrassing trip to the clinic. Technically, Bophidius did not bite me. I hadn’t fed him in some time, and when I went to drop his meal into the cage, he lunged at the mouse and struck my hand by mistake. (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.) While a boa has no fangs, it does have sharp bony ridges used for ingesting its prey. Therefore Bophidius’ gentle reminder to feed him on a more regular basis did break the skin, prompting my loving wife to insist I go get a tetanus shot. This was much worse than the actual bite. I tried to avoid revealing the details of my injury. “I got bit by my pet.” Of course, this was not possible, and when I eventually had to answer the nosy question, “What kind of pet do you have?” I got some strange looks. People can be so judgmental. I had no ill feelings towards Bophidius. It was no less than I deserved for starving the poor beast. However, I realized that if I was going to care for him no better than this, Bophidius deserved a better home. My brother is the master of buying and selling, so I let him take Bo, fatten him up, and sell him. Budd told me later that the new owner worked for the Blue Bell Creamery in Brenham, TX. Years later we lived near there and spent a lot of time in Brenham. I always wondered if I ever came near Bo’s owner. I hope Bophidius went to a good home, and I hope they fed him regularly! To this day, I have a soft spot for NON-POISONOUS snakes. I have no problem with people exterminating dangerous snakes, but the others are our friends! However, even I don’t care to be surprised by them. Several years ago when I was younger, but still not young, I was working in the front yard on my hands and knees cutting back some overgrown ground cover. Suddenly, a monstrous snake jumped out at me. He was as big around as a pencil and twice as long! I told my legs, “Run! Run for my life!!” but all they could manage was to throw me on my back where I lay and laughed at myself. I soon realized that the snake and I were both fans of the “live and let live” philosophy, so I resumed my work while he looked for other accommodations. Thanks for the memories, Bophidius. I’ll never forget you. enough

Bophidius

When I attended college in the early-to-mid 70’s, the most economical living conditions involved sharing an apartment with two or three other people and splitting the expenses. As with all situations in life, this had its advantages and disadvantages. Occasionally someone expressed his desire for a pet dog. Of course, this was not practical considering that many college men were doing quite well to take care of themselves, much less a dog, and apartment living was not well-suited for this type of animal care. In the brief six years I spent matriculating in Austin, Texas, I had several roommates. For the last three years one of those roommates was my younger brother, Budd.

In my next to last year in school, the band took an over-night trip to the Houston area and stayed with families of the band students at Angleton HS. I stayed with a family who had a pet boa constrictor. I was fascinated and quickly decided that a snake was the perfect pet for apartment living. It stayed in an aquarium, required feeding only once weekly, and was harmless fun to play with when we wanted. [Note: Snakes are not slimy, boas are not poisonous, they are not anacondas that grow to be over 20 feet long, and a boa does not try to “constrict” or choke anything bigger than it can eat.]

Over time, I convinced my reluctant brother and our roommates of my brilliant idea, and eventually we purchased “Slick” from a young boy whose

father had found him while working at the airport. (This was long before Snakes on a Plane.) Actually, we picked up the snake from the boy’s mother. We never knew for sure that the boy was in favor of getting rid of the snake. Sorry, kid.

Slick’s cage was an aquarium covered with a piece of peg-board, weighted down with a large rock. It fit the décor of our apartment perfectly. Our next task was to re-name him. “Slick” just wasn’t doing it for us.

Budd and I share the same initials: BCT. I looked up “snake” in the dictionary and discovered that the Greek word for snake is “ophidia”, so by adding a “B” to the beginning, and changing the ending to latin masculine form, I renamed “Slick”: Bophidius. By adding the logical middle name, Constrictor, we had another BCT in the family: Bophidius Constrictor Tune.

I am sympathetic to people’s natural fear of snakes and tried to broaden a few horizons by demonstrating that the boa was a viable, entertaining, easy-to-care-for pet. Feeding time was usually Saturday morning, and this became quite the spectator sport. With a live mouse from a local pet store, we watched with rapt attention and waited for Bophidius to strike. It always came very suddenly, and always a surprise. Budd learned that the hard way. He soon stopped holding his cup of hot coffee during feeding time.

I’m also painfully aware of those who side with the “poor, innocent mouse.” Really, people? Circle of life…. The family in Angleton that introduced me to the snake-as-a-pet concept raised their own mice. That was a bit much for apartment life, so I regularly bought Bo’s “food” at a pet store, some of which refused my business when my motives were revealed.

When I finished school and took my first job as band director in a small town 40 miles northeast of Austin, Bophidius was a big hit at school. I took him once a year for show and tell. I never forced his presence on people truly frightened of snakes, and I made sure the mischievous boys did not use Bo to frighten others. My first drum major of the Thrall HS Band made a unique contribution to my pet. He clubbed a rat in his Dad’s barn and brought the deceased rodent to me in a paper bag. “Supper’s here, Bophidius!” I wasn’t sure if Bo would eat an animal that was already dead, but he did!

Between my first and second year at Thrall, Beverly and I got married. While not thrilled with Bophidius’ presence, she was tolerant and had little contact with him. Her poor Mother, on the other hand, was horrified at the thought of sharing her space with a snake. Fortunately, she was willing to visit as long as we kept a cover over Bo’s cage to keep him out of sight. Bophidius was very quiet, so it worked out just fine.

Beverly’s first teaching job was at the Catholic school in Taylor. Her principal was a great lady, but she, too, was deathly afraid of snakes. Bev was ill and unable to work for a few days. Her principal was gracious enough to drive the 6 miles to Thrall to check on her ailing teacher. She and Bev had a lovely visit until the principal suddenly remembered that Bev’s husband had a pet snake. She made a hasty exit. We had the only front door in Thrall with a principal-shaped hole in it.

All good things must come to an end, and so it was with Bophidius. Three years later Thomas was born. The good people in town were horrified to think of that tiny baby living in a house with a snake. Actually, the only problem was that I found a newborn baby to be even more fascinating than a snake, and I started neglecting my pet, which lead to an embarrassing trip to the clinic. Technically, Bophidius did not bite me. I hadn’t fed him in some time, and when I went to drop his meal into the cage, he lunged at the mouse and struck my hand by mistake. (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.) While a boa has no fangs, it does have sharp bony ridges used for ingesting its prey. Therefore Bophidius’ gentle reminder to feed him on a more regular basis did break the skin, prompting my loving wife to insist I go get a tetanus shot. This was much worse than the actual bite. I tried to avoid revealing the details of my injury. “I got bit by my pet.” Of course, this was not possible, and when I eventually had to answer the nosy question, “What kind of pet do you have?” I got some strange looks. People can be so judgmental.

I had no ill feelings towards Bophidius. It was no less than I deserved for starving the poor beast. However, I realized that if I was going to care for him no better than this, Bophidius deserved a better home. My brother is the master of buying and selling, so I let him take Bo, fatten him up, and sell him. Budd told me later that the new owner worked for the Blue Bell Creamery in Brenham, TX. Years later we lived near there and spent a lot of time in Brenham. I always wondered if I ever came near Bo’s owner. I hope Bophidius went to a good home, and I hope they fed him regularly!

To this day, I have a soft spot for NON-POISONOUS snakes. I have no problem with people exterminating dangerous snakes, but the others are our friends! However, even I don’t care to be surprised by them. Several years ago when I was younger, but still not young, I was working in the front yard on my hands and knees cutting back some overgrown ground cover. Suddenly, a monstrous snake jumped out at me. He was as big around as a pencil and twice as long! I told my legs, “Run! Run for my life!!” but all they could manage was to throw me on my back where I lay and laughed at myself. I soon realized that the snake and I were both fans of the “live and let live” philosophy, so I resumed my work while he looked for other accommodations.

Thanks for the memories, Bophidius. I’ll never forget you.

enough

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