‘Snake Lady’ Saves The Cold-Blooded
He snores. He hogs the covers.
He blunders around the house like some pompous lord of the roost, making messes wherever he pleases.
“So why do I need a man?” says Traci Williams, gazing lovingly at her strange significant other: a 5-foot iguana named Fred.
If spending nights cuddled next to this wriggling hunk of Jurassic pork sounds weird, hold on.
Williams, 31, is Mother Teresa to the slithering masses.
The divorced Spokane woman has turned her humble home into Reptile Rescue - sort of a Union Gospel Mission for the cold-blooded homeless.
There currently are 10 snakes and six lizards living with Williams and her four cats and four dogs. Another quartet of iguanas is due any day from Seattle.
“God put us all on Earth to do something,” says the woman, sporting a pink bolo snake tie around her neck. “I like to think he chose me to do this.”
Williams is president of the newly formed Inland Empire Herpetological Society. The club boasts 55 members, she says, such as snake breeder Bill Varner and iguana owner George Ellefsen.
Friends call Williams “Snake Lady” because she can’t turn away any sick, injured, abandoned or unwanted reptile.
“I’ve had animals die on me, everybody does,” she adds. “But at least I know they all died happy and with full bellies.”
Spokane County Animal Control often calls Reptile Rescue (533-5178) to handle a bizarre emergency.
Take, for example, one day last July. A postal worker reached inside a Spokane Valley mailbox and discovered it was inhabited by a fat bull snake.
“He almost had a heart attack,” says Kathy Goehri of animal control. “A number of our officers are certainly glad she’s (Williams) willing to handle the snakes.”
Cast your eyes into any corner of Williams’ cramped living space. It’s a safe bet something will be casting its eyes right back at you.
There’s Rio, a 10-foot red-tail boa. Nevada police nabbed the serpent on top of a quarter-million worth of cocaine during a drug raid. “One of the sweetest animals you’ll ever meet,” says Williams.
Ernie, a 14-foot Burmese python, crawled out of a house after a murder. “He was on an episode of ‘Cops,”’ boasts Williams. “Police found him down the street in a neighbor’s yard.”
Williams’ house has seen more scales than Richard Simmons.
In the kitchen, 10 iguana eggs incubate while Spike, the 2-foot mother, recuperates from the ordeal of giving birth. Near the couch, a pair of speckled king snakes entwine in a tank.
Williams moved to Spokane about 18 months ago from Las Vegas. She worked there several years at the huge Dewey Animal Shelter, caring for “everything from snakes to a buffalo.”
“She’s one of those people who never gives up. We miss her dearly,” says Jane Lokken, a Dewey manager. “She’s got the biggest heart in the whole world.”
Such devotion, however, has a cost. Williams, who works at a hardware store, spends about $230 a month feeding her critters. “There are times I’ll go hungry,” she says, “but my animals never do.”
She says her teenage daughter lives with grandma because the girl hates all the beasties. “She thinks I’m crazy.”
Williams trims Fred’s long, dark claws with an electric sander. She hooks the iguana to a harness for regular sojourns around the neighborhood.
She even takes him on forays to the grocery store, pushing Fred up and down the aisles in a shopping cart. The gape-jawed reaction of stunned bystanders is always the same.
“First they’ll say, ‘Is he real?’ Then Fred will move and they’ll say. ‘Oh, my gawd.”’
Williams pauses to scratch her fat and happy roomie under his leathery green chin.
“I guess it is different.”
, DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: Color photo
The following fields overflowed: CREDIT = Doug Clark The Spokesman-Review