The ball python business, like all businesses, is evolving. I have seen a lot of changes and, through them all, I have endeavored to remain optimistic. That optimism has proved legitimate as the industry continues to be very good to me. Despite my love of the hobby (business) I’m not wearing rose-colored glasses; I regularly contemplate the negative aspects of being a reptile breeder and attempt to make sure I am doing what I can to mitigate them.
On a seemingly different note,
As a ball python breeder I constantly evaluate the best ways to get a maximum return on my investment. This makes me no different than any other business person, regardless of the choice of profession. I endeavor to be pragmatic when it comes to expected profitability and I have come to believe that there many ways to do this snake breeding thing right. Alternately, there at least as many ways to do it wrong. What’s right and what’s wrong can vary based on circumstance and is often a matter of perspective. If the end result is little more than baby snakes poking their heads out of eggs then I know I am right to say that what’s right and what’s wrong is chock full of opinion and personal preference. I know this because I have seen too many people be successful using too many variations of what I consider “right”. Right, in this instance, is grey.
I have more than a few opinions in support of for-profit animal husbandry. On many occasions I have shared some of those opinions in the blog posts and articles I write. And as you might expect I receive a lot of comments. Most of them are emailed directly to me and most of them are decidedly supportive. But sometimes people come after me with varying levels of aggression and disdain for what I do. Some dislike my love of capitalism and attack me for charging more than $20 for any ball python I produce. They suggest that all ball pythons, even the incredibly rare and difficult to produce multi-gene morphs, should be available to everybody regardless of their ability to afford one. “Unto each according to their need“, is the message buried in their words. Intentionally twisting Karl Marx’s inane words I respond by saying, “No.
Last year, amongst many other things, I bred a ghost mojave to a 100% het ghost black pastel spider (black bee). Sounds like a cool pairing, right? To my knowledge the ghost mojave black bee hasn’t been produced yet and I was gunning to be the first. With eight eggs in the incubator I was feeling optimistic; all I needed was a little love from the Odds Gods and I would hit on something amazing to share with the world. I watched with hopeful anticipation as the eggs finally pipped. And like a popped water balloon I felt the excitement rushing out of my body as I checked the contents of each egg. Disappointment. Disappointment. Disappointment. To say that I got murdered on the odds was a bit of an understatement. But I didn’t just miss on the ghost mojave black bee. The clutch didn’t produce a single ghost black bee, honey bee, ghost mojave,
Not really a tough question, I suspect. Money in-hand is tangible and usable; it represents capability. In order for me to convince you to wait for money in the future it has to be more than what you can have today. But how much more? If the offer was $5,000 today or $5,200 in four years I feel pretty confident that you would still reject the deal and opt for today as the payday. The capacity for progress created by having money in hand will trump the promise of a meager future return. What the exact future return needs to be in order to entice someone to take the deal is going to vary from person to person. But barring extreme and pressing financial need most people will eventually agree to wait for a future payday.
Every year I am fortunate enough to produce some absolutely amazing ball pythons. There have been a tiny handful of times when the animal I produced was unique to the world, the first combination of its kind. I admit, it’s a neat feeling. Being the first to make a particular morph and getting to name it is a goal for many in the business. The naming of a morph is your chance to become a permanent, albeit largely irrelevant, part of the industry’s history. It’s unlikely that anyone will remember that it was you who named it or that you were the first but you and a small group of others will always know. Die in a car crash tomorrow and you will soon be forgotten by most. But the name given to that designer morph combination will still have the moniker you decided. That small contribution to something that will outlast you is, well, …cool.