As best as I can remember, this little salamanders were found under a wood pile in my yard in 1997. 

While working for Athens-Clarke County Animal Control in 1997, I was called out to remove a bat from an Athens residence. The little critter seemed healthy, so I snapped a few photos and let him go back outdoors. 

While working for Athens-Clarke County Animal Control, I was dispatched out to the University of Georgia Golf Course to pick up a  sick skunk. Those are the calls we always dread, for nobody wants to get hit with that noxious defense! I was relieved when I saw it was a baby and a bit too lethargic to spray. 

Another shot from my old photo album for which I don't remember the full context. But I'm sure this Opossum was the subject of an animal control call when I worked for Athens-Clarke County government. 

​June 4, 1997 - A film flashback to my days with Athens-Clarke County Animal Control. My caption on the back of this old print states that we picked up two weak, emaciated juveniles that fell from a nest. This is my first photo (that I can still find) of a Red-shouldered Hawk. 

One of my old animal control adventures. I was called out to remove this guy from a dumpster in an Athens apartment complex. 

Well, other than being date stamped and labelled "Athens, Georgia", I can't remember too much about this Box Turtle. I probably found him crossing the road somewhere and snapped a photo before releasing him behind the animal control shelter. 

​One of my first experiences with Coyotes in Clarke County, Georgia (other than rumors) came in 1997. The Athens-Clarke County Ben Epps Airport called animal control about some puppies in a culvert near the runway. Being a potential hazard, we set a dual-sided humane trap and caught three puppies. But it was obvious they were not domestic dogs! Unsure at first if they were fox or coyote, they went to a rehabilitator. As they grew larger than fox size, it became quite obvious that coyotes had officially moved into Clarke County! 

While working for Athens-Clarke County Animal Control, we received frequent spring and summer calls about “Cottonmouths” endangering school children in the pond at Memorial Park. To dispel the rumors, in May of 1997 I set out to show the watersnakes at the park were not “Water Moccasins”, for Cottonmouths, generally residing south of Interstate 20 and along the coast, do not normally range as far north and west as Athens.  

​On a slow day, I patrolled the park and found a glorious, fat-bodied guy sunning on the rip-rap on one end of the pond. As I approached, he shot down into the large spaces in the piled rocks. To the astonishment of onlookers, my hand was in fast pursuit and plunged down into the rocks after this “Cottonmouth.” I have frequently said, “The best way to catch a snake is to let him catch you”, and, pulling my hand out from the rocks, the feisty boy also emerged, teeth gripping firmly on my hand. Thus ended the tall-tale of Cottonmouths at Memorial Park. ​

​February 1997 – a cloudy gray day to visit Hard Labor Creek State Park in Georgia. For many years now, the deer are so accustomed to people that they can be closely approached. 

In October 1996 while finishing my degree at the University of Georgia, I met my family at Hilton Head Island for an end-of-summer vacation. One afternoon, I headed out by myself to the Pickney Island National Wildlife Refuge that lies along the bridge onto Hilton Head.
 
While I have a made a few trips back to the refuge, I believe this my have been my first visit. And after searching old albums and boxes, these are the earliest bird photos I can find. Therefore, these are my life bird photos for the Great Blue Heron and Tricolored Heron. The photos were shot with a Minolta X-700 35mm film camera. 

​A pet store coworker and fellow reptile enthusiast took me down to Savannah to snake hunt at a place he called “The Pipeline”. It was a network of above-ground pipes that ran through a swampy area next to a neighborhood that he grew up in.
 
To get onto the pipeline, you had to brave an eerie wade through waist deep swamp water hoping to not step on a submerged snapping turtle or alligator. Once up on the pipes, you could safely tour the swamp on foot. We made a couple of trips back to The Pipeline whenever our reptile excursions took us near that Savannah neighborhood.

​I conducted my UGA Forestry School senior project research on a cattle farmer’s ranch in Warthen, Washington County, Georgia.  For several weeks in a row, I went down to check coyote bait stations and survey White-tailed Deer food plots.
 
I had occasion to come across several critters in the low lying wet areas of the property. I pulled a large Common Snapping Turtle out of the muck for a few photos. He even went back home with me for a short stay in my large aquarium until proving too dirty to keep contained. 
 
The biggest thrill for me, being a young reptile enthusiast was seeing my first Cottonmouth. During one food plot survey in a swampy area, a medium sized but heavy-bodied Cottonmouth shot out from the grasses. Most normal people would run the other way, but I chased after him with my Minolta film camera!

While getting my wildlife sciences degree from the University of Georgia’s Warnell School of Forestry and Natural Resources, I had the privilege of participating in a capture and release program. No, this wasn’t like the feral cat TNR related to my job now. But it was an American Alligator tagging program!

In the spring of 1996 (yes, way back in the 1900’s), several Warnell students went to Bear Island Wildlife Management Area in Green Pond, South Carolina. Often, state game and fish agencies sacrifice, I mean “utilize”, graduate and undergrad students to help in research. Our job was to capture as many alligators as we could in one weekend to measure, sex, weigh and tag.

During the day, we constructed snares along the banks. Two boards were placed upright a few feet apart to funnel alligators in toward the bait (dead fish). As they passed between the boards, their head went through a snare. As soon as the fish was grabbed, the trigger would release and a long elastic band stretched over the top of a vertical pole pulled the snare tight around the gator’s neck. 

We also had the joy of going out on small, flat boats all night and into the wee hours of the morning. Our job: paddle as slowly and quietly as possible toward red alligator eyes illuminated by our head lamps, slip the animal control pole over its head, and haul it into the boat with us. We then had to hold it down and safely (if that’s even possible) slip rubber bands over the jaws.   

The next day was spent taking turns mounting the bigger gators so they could be measured from snout to tail and determined if male or female (look up how its done, not fun… sort of like checking an alligator’s prostate!). They were then tagged and released once the data was collected.
​
Before releasing, game officers had an ingenious way of removing the rubber bands from the alligators’ mouths. A rope was tied around the bands and the gator was placed on the bank. As the officer backed away, and the gator (in theory) backed into the water… pop! The bands were off its mouth. In only one instance did a gator not play along and actually came up out of the water towards us wide-eyed undergrads!