S
teve Wilson is a familiar name to any
serious Australian herper, due to his life-
long fascination with reptiles and his many contribu-
tions to our knowledge of herpetofauna. Renowned
for his books, he has also enjoyed a long career
working with the public at the Queensland Museum,
has a stellar reputation as a wildlife photographer,
and has rescued animals along several natural gas
pipelines in northern Australia.
Neville: Steve, when did you first develop an
interest in reptiles and where were you living at the
time? Did you receive encouragement from anyone
in particular back then?
Steve: I grew up in the eastern suburbs of
Melbourne, initially Balwyn and then Canterbury. My
interest in reptiles developed when I was very
young. It was a natural consequence of a deep
fascination with any form of natural history. As a
toddler I was playing with snails, slaters and insects;
this graduated to climbing trees for cicadas and
watching birds. I amassed collections of all sorts of
stuff, from pinned insects to skulls, birds’ eggs,
fossils and more. If it had anything to do with nature,
particularly animals, I wanted it.
When I was about six a blue-tongue turned up in a
neighbour’s yard. Watching that lizard triggered
something in my brain - some cerebral connection
that I cannot explain. The result has been an
undiluted focus on reptiles since that time. I remain
interested in a broad spectrum of the natural world,
but reptiles have always been paramount. I have
never regarded herpetology as a hobby, but rather
something that is hard-wired within me.
My parents, Joy and Ken, were tremendous and a
source of great encouragement. Dad would drag
himself out of bed on a Saturday morning to take
me frogging in some nearby creek. They would take
me out on day trips on fierce summer days and sit
sweltering as I spent the day hunting reptiles. We
had a large house in Canterbury, so I was lucky
enough to have my own specimen room specifically
dedicated to my collections. My parents’ only
stipulations were that I avoid dangerous snakes and
pay attention to my schooling.
Of course I let them down on both counts. Dad
came home one day when I had a Tiger Snake out
on the back lawn. I told him it was a ‘Banded
Keelback’. On another occasion I put a copperhead
in the car, in a bag that had a hole in it. Dad had to
take the car to the zoo so the reptile keepers could
remove his spare tyre and catch the snake. I was
not too popular that day.
My father, blinded by paternal pride, always mistook
my obsessive-compulsive herpetological behaviour
as genius. He died at 80 and Mum at 94, and even
in their old age they took great interest and pride in
what I did.
Neville: I can really relate to what you say here,
Steve. It mirrors my own boyhood interest in nature