SUMMARY:
A 1923 Toronto Star feature profiles Miss Joan Proctor, curator of reptiles at the London Zoological Gardens, highlighting her methods of handling venomous snakes through kindness and understanding. The article notes her role in designing a new reptile house and references Raymond L. Ditmars of the New York Zoo.
CONTENT:
1923.
Toronto Star
Her Pets Are Ugly King Cobras
Deadly Reptiles Won By Kindness
Miss Joan Proctor, Curator of
Serpents in London Zoo-
logical Gardens, Tells How
She Overcomes Her Terri-
ble Playmates.
THE first woman in the world was on sociable
terms with a serpent, and the world knows
what came of that.
But here is one of Eve's youngest daughters
handling, petting and caring for innumerable de-
scendants of that wily snake of old. Her name
is Joan Proctor and her official title is curator
of reptiles of the London Zoological Gardens.
The feeling that soft, purring, cuddly little
kittens awaken in other small girls came to Joan
when, as an inquisitive ten-year-old, she first
made the acquaintance of a shining, wriggling
green garter snake, and that strange fondness
for the first enemy of man has grown and grown
until her greatest joy in life is playing foster-
mother to all the alligators, toads, turtles and
reptiles in London's famous zoo.
The family in which Joan belonged didn't ex-
actly favor the predilection of its youngest mem-
ber for crawling things when that first slimy,
glassy-eyed creature was introduced into their
happy home. But Joan was a positive little per-
son. She made it plain that her motto was "Love
me, love my snakes!" and presently the whole
Proctor clan progressed from abhorrence to in-
difference. They could put their hands into a
presumably empty vase on the living-room table,
touch the cold coil of a snake and not fall in a
faint.
From indifference, the Proctors went on until
they began to share Joan's uncanny affection for
creeping things, and now her home would not be
home without at least three boa constrictors
draping themselves about the furniture.
When Joan was seventeen she read her first
paper about snakes before the Royal Zoological
Society—a paper that attracted serious attention.
A few years later she became the unsalaried as-
sistant of the curator of reptiles at the British
Museum of Natural History—truly a labor of
love. In the museum laboratory she worked and
studied amid hundreds of jars and bottles con-
taining creeping things. And all the time at
home she watched over the boas, the bushmasters,
the asps and the black snakes that succeeded each
other at home as the darlings of her heart.
So it was that when the council of the Royal
Zoological Society found it necessary to engage a
new custodian for its great collection of living
reptiles, Joan, whose paper on snakes read before
that august body so early in her career had made
such an impression, was unanimously decided
upon as the logical recipient of the honor.
"It's a very simple thing to get on with rep-
tiles of any sort," says the new curator, illus-
trating her point by using one of her favorite
poisonous-tongued friends as a neckpiece. "By
using a handkerchief to make sure of my grip
on his tail, he can't get too playful, you see. The
dear things do love to twist themselves about
people's necks, and then sometimes they squeeze
too hard." Which, it may be clearly seen, is not
so good for the neck.
"Kindness and real understanding are back of
success with snakes," decrees the only woman
occupant of a position of such scientific note in
Great Britain.
So great is the confidence reposed in this
young woman by those who know that she
is not only to care for the huge creeping things
of the jungle, but has been empowered to design
the new home for reptiles at the London Zoological
Gardens, and is now engaged in deciding just
where, what and how big the quarters for her
favorites shall be.
"Woman snake-charmer!" shrieked local news-
paper headlines, when this announcement was
made.
"I'm not!" contradicted Miss Proctor, showing
a surprising little glint in her eyes—a glint that
may be the secret of her power over the descend-
ants of that serpent that tempted Eve.
"You might call me a 'snake-keeper,' if you
will, but not a snake-charmer. Do you know
what a snake-charmer is? Some queer voodoo
sort of person with supernatural powers. Of
course, I'm not that! It's so easy to get on with
snakes. Why, if you've learned the way to deal
with a two-foot garter snake you know how to
cope with an eight-foot python! They are all so
much alike." The foster-mother of London's rep-
tiles caressed the flat head of the amazingly
powerful boa constrictor just then draped about
her neck.
A neck, Miss Proctor explains, is an ideal
"warmer" for a tropical snake. There's nothing
he likes better than to coil about it. Coping
with Mr. Boa in this case means keeping a firm
grip on head and tail so that his enthusiasm
the human heater doesn't carry him too far.
There are many problems for this little wo-
man with the big nerve to solve, for snakes who
come from other lands as captives are likely to
behave as erratically as human beings under
similar circumstances. They go on hunger strikes.
They commit suicide. They demand one certain
kind of food—usually expensive and difficult to
obtain—and that only will they swallow.
How to combat this suicide tendency in rep-
tiles will probably engross Miss Proctor as it en-
grosses most curators of these temperamental
creatures. Raymond L. Ditmars, of the New
York Zoo, reports that a continual offender in this
regard is the bushmaster.
TORONTO
STAR
PRESS
