story and photos by Seth Chapin

Undeniably uneasy, U.S. Senator Wayne Allard and Congressman Scott McInnis opt for something less bold in their respective pictures framed on the gift shop wall. Instead, they are mounted on top of a ten-foot gator, hands wedged in the rear of its mouth, behind roughly 80 jagged teeth. A benefit of chinning is that once the alligator’s snout is immobile, the crazed individual that has hopped on the gator can now operate in hands-free mode. Most “chinners” out there will employ the crucifixion stance, stretching out their arms, basking in their well-earned glory - perhaps chuckling about the feigned dominance of men like Allard and McInnis.

Tumbleweed rolls across the road as I approach the Colorado Gator Farm. Home to the highest gators in the world, it is hard for me to envision a worse place for a reptile haven than the barren scrubland of the San Luis Valley. Fortunately, the property is blessed with a 2,050-foot deep geothermal well that pumps out water at a consistent 87 degrees. The owners of the farm, Erwin and Lynn Young, acquired the property to start a tilapia (an African perch) fish hatchery. The warm waters were ideal for raising Young’s all-white hybrid of the perch, the Rocky Mountain White Tilapia. Ultimately, a filet is carved from the tilapia carcass, and the hatchery sends anywhere from 1500 - 3000 pounds of fish (per week) to Asian fish markets in Denver. A significant problem arises in the filet business because around 70 percent of the fish is discarded as waste. The state made the waste situation even more problematic when the hatchery was told that the tilapia carcasses had to be hauled to a predetermined dumping site.

In order to alleviate this problem, 100 baby alligators were imported from Florida in 1987 as an environment-friendly disposal mechanism. Sustainability seems to be an integral component of the farm; rabbits are raised for the larger snakes and hibiscus and clover are grown for the herbivores. Since the reptilian pioneers arrived, “Things have changed quite a bit.” Fawn Tatro, a manager at the gator farm, explains that the farm is currently home to nearly 400 alligators, including a Nile crocodile and several dozen caiman. Its labeling as a “gator farm,” is somewhat misleading, as the number and variety of animals that inhabit the gator farm could call for its reclassification as a full-fledged zoo. I am given a personal tour of the facilities by Fawn, which I am extremely appreciative of, although I gather that she would rather be giving a tour than tending to some of the menial chores that are brought by the lull of business in winter.

The farm has been transformed into “a reptile rescue,” Fawn explains. In the reptile barn, she points out a Nile Monitor that was donated to the farm - it failed to pass obedience class and gave its owner 171 stitches. Reptiles such as the Nile monitor are sold in pet stores in hatchling size and buyers are often unaware of the training and patience that is needed to domesticate these lizards. They can be extremely aggressive and will most likely not be content sleeping at the foot of the bed with your golden retriever. Larry Wornick, another manager at the farm, tells to me a story about how several caimans broke through the rotting floor of the reptile barn. It was a bustling summer day and when Larry snared one of the caimans, removing it from underneath the floorboards, a crowd of around 100 people encircled him. Just as he had dreaded, the rope slipped off of the caiman, and it lashed out at him, sinking its teeth into the soft flesh of Larry’s arm. Referring to the two year old-alligator that acts as a prop for photo opportunities, Larry asserted that, “Nobody wanted to get their picture taken after that. I was bleeding like a stuck pig.”

Educational programs the farm has offered for five or six years are not only a means to raise additional money, but also help local school children better understand exotic animals and the hazards associated with owning them as pets. The farm does not want ignorant reptile owners to end up like Larry. As an example, Grandpa and Leroy, two of the farms oldest alligators, are noticeably smaller than their adult counterparts because their previous owners kept them in a small habitat that was too cold for them to properly digest their food, thereby stunting the reptiles’ growth.

Two peacocks roam the ground, oblivious to the flesh-eating beasts in the water.

Fawn often brings in an albino Burmese python to school programs; a beautiful snake with a splotchy yellow and cream coloration. In a cage adjacent to the Burmese python sit Martha and George, two White Argentine tegus. This endangered reptile is hunted in South America for its skin, which is used to make pricey leather shoes and watchbands. Further down the line is the cage of a Sulcata tortoise, which can live up to 200 years and grow up to 200 pounds, second in size only to the Galapagos variety. We leave the humid, fece-flavored air of the reptile barn and head outside to the main attraction.

As we approach the adult alligator pool, my mind wanders to the pictures of Allard and McInnis. I can’t help but smirk, visualizing a glimmer of pure fear in both their eyes. After all, the powerful beast that they are sitting on like some sort of rocking horse has a daunting reputation. The jaws of alligator mississippiensis have roughly 2,000 pounds per square inch of power and the reptile has been reported at lengths of up to 19 feet. Every employee at the farm has been bitten at least once - the gators are a clever bunch. Fawn mentions Pavlov’s theory relating to conditioned response as the reason why the alligators swim towards her when she arrives with a bucket of tilapia carcasses and why they swim away from most men standing on the shore of their pool. It seems the alligators have grown too familiar with the wrestling tradition at the farm - lessons can be taken for $50, weather permitting.

Interspersed between the steaming pools are a multitude of non-reptilian animals. Fawn points out Copper, the farm’s sole chicken. She laughs and explains Copper “thinks he is a goat” on account of his two milk-producing pen mates. The emus were once allowed to roam free as people enjoyed personal encounters with these docile animals. Regrettably, at one point all the emus had fled the farm, resulting in an epic, six-month recovery period. Eventually, Erwin decided to disregard the one non-recovered emu, and they are now kept in a fenced-in area. As I walk up to the pen, I notice one of the emu’s gyrating bodies, rubbing feverishly against the fence. Emus are friendly, I remember, and approach the animal with my hand out. Immediately, when I was within range, the animal’s beak darts out at my hand, nipping at the pen that I am grasping. In retrospect, maybe the farm shouldn’t have taken the recovery effort so seriously.

Those who wish to support the gator farm have the opportunity to join the ranks of the Royal Order of the Gator. A member of the Order is dubbed a knight or lady of the Court of the infamous Sir-Chomps-a-Lot. Sir-Chomps-a-Lot is the first native-born alligator of Colorado, and at six years old, he still wears the tag numbered one. For the modest fee of $49, a member of his court is entitled to unlimited trips to the farm, as well as a choice of a baseball cap or t-shirt, an annual photo opportunity with Sir-Chomps-a-Lot himself, and a 10 year subscription to The Gator Gazette. As I recall a sign on the highway leading up to the farm, “9 acres of land for sale. Contact Colorado Gators,” I forget about the Royal Order and ponder investing my money elsewhere. Dolphin farm, anyone?

Colorado Gators is located 17 miles north of Alamosa on Hwy. 17 in Mosca, Colorado. Summer hours are form 9am to 7pm daily and winter hours are from 9am to 5pm daily. Admission prices are as follows: $6/adult (13-65), $4/child (6-12), $4/senior (65-80). Anyone under 5, over 80, or wearing a Colorado Gator t-shirt or hat is FREE. Contact Colorado Gators at (719) 378-2612 or on the web at www.gatorfarm.com for more information.