Removing the intestines of a skinned rabbit. Pluckingputrefying waxworms out of a Tupperware container of sawdust and maggots.Power-washing bobcat feces from a tub of “poo water.” No, these are not eventson an episode of Fear Factor, nor are they ancient methods of torture from alost civilization. These are just some of the reasons I love volunteering atthe San Francisco Zoo.

When I arrive at my biweekly eight-hour shift at the AnimalResource Center in the Children’s Zoo, I never know what to expect. Dailyactivities can range from “animal love” sessions to doing the laundry (thosestinky opossums need their sheets washed a few times a day). I may dislikewading through animal excrement in rain boots, but the pros of working at thezoo far outweigh the cons.

Most people don’t understand why I sacrifice potentialsleep-in time for a 9-to-5 unpaid job. For one, I love animals. Most peoplemight express their devotion to animals by becoming a vegetarian or refusing towear fur, but I don’t stop there. I have been volunteering at the ARC for threeyears now, simply satiating my hunger to care for and promote the conservationof diverse species of animals.

I started off as a timid little nature trailer, educating zoovisitors about the animals at the ARC and species conservation, and a year agoI was promoted to Junior Zoologist (JZ), which involves more behind-the-scenesanimal care work. In other words, I’m the one who shovels up the animal poopwhen nobody's looking.

However, my job isn't all pooper-scoopering. If it were,there would be no reason for me to do what I do without getting paid. Aboveall, I enjoy the hour or two of my workday devoted to animal handling andtraining sessions. I am proud that I can handle chinchillas, ferrets,hedgehogs, rabbits, rats, lizards, snakes, toads, salamanders and even a ringedturtle dove, just to name a few. My most recent accomplishment was being deemedfully trained on the ARC’s eight-foot-long, 30-pound Colombian Boa Constrictor,Humbaba. She may be capable of crushing my arm, but it’s okay — Humbaba and Iare pals.

With all this training, I have learned about many zoologicaltopics. I’m fully prepared to tell anyone how many offspring a La PlataThree-Banded Armadillo always has, or even about the function of ourBlue-Fronted Amazon parrot’s zygodactyl feet.

I discovered all this through one-on-one training sessionswith one of my bosses. The sessions lead up to a final “test,” in which Idemonstrate handling and packing up an animal for a show and give a mock oralpresentation about the animal with all the facts I have learned. If I’m goodenough (it took me a few tries to pass the Boa test), I’m free to handle theanimal any time I want — without supervision.  It’s like a JZ’s equivalentof getting permission from Mom to stay out partying until the wee hours of theday — only better, and with some real party animals (pun somewhat intended).

However, just because we JZs know the meaning of “ovoviviparous,”it doesn’t mean we’re snooty or that we don’t know how to goof off. In fact, I’vemet some of the silliest people I know at the zoo. We’ve bonded over everythingfrom our ridiculous duty of sweeping the paths in front of the ARC in themorning to the pleasure of reading the latest celebrity gossip in the tabloidssplayed across our volunteer lunch table. Most of all, we know how tomultitask. We can easily shake our booties to “I Kissed A Girl” or “Hands inthe Ayer” while cutting up meat for the birds of prey.

Through silly dance sessions and serious zoologicalendeavors, I have come to accept the ARC as my home-away-from-home. Cheesy asit sounds, the people and animals there are like my second family. At the zoo,we can be ourselves around each other: our urine-drenched, dorky, ludicrousselves.