Yarbrough's Educational Reptile Program
Ode to the Snake Man
By: Valerie Fraser Luesse
"Every year he came and put on a show. Weeks in advance, word of his impending arrival would spread throughout our small-town school. Finally, when we could bear the anticipation no longer, he would arrive with a camper shell on the back. And we all knew what hissed inside that shell- snakes!"
"So why, you ask, did our parents and teachers subject us to this peculiar academic endeavor? I think i found the answer during a visit with my cousin Kathy. "Say, do you remember the Snake Man who used to come to our school?" I asked. Without a beat, she recited, "Red on yella, kill a fella; red on black, you can pat 'em on the back!" I suddenly realized that the Snake Man represented a streak of Southern practicality shared by the adults watching over us."
Snake Lady makes "hisssstory"
By: Kelli Hewett Taylor
"When the TV's Crocodile hunter was still cutting teeth, Mary Ann Yarbrough was baring reptile fangs at terrified schoolchildren all over Alabama. At night, neighbors stay up wondering what lurks in her house on the hill. For decades, children in this community near Anniston have scared themselves silly with stories about the Snake Lady's reptiles. It's the warm, moist basement where the caged reptiles hiss, rattle, and tangle like something from an Indiana Jones movie. But local kids and parents imagine, in skin-crawling detail, how the snakes must surely break loose in the middle of the night and slither up the stairs, probably into her bed. "I like people to think they do," said Yarbrough with a grin."