Two facts: I have geckoes in my lounge room; I hate reptiles. So, the two things aren’t really compatible.
I don’t know why I hate reptiles, I just do. They are this awful skin which moves loosely over their bodies – they look as if they’re moving about inside – it’s a horrible effect. They may have brains the size of a grain of rice or a bit bigger, but they look at you – with intent. I believe they have my number.
Why the geckoes moved into my lounge room is a mystery. They never used to be there, but now they live happily behind the furniture and behind the paintings. Sometimes they poke their heads out at night, looking for insects. I’m told they are good at keeping mosquitoes at bay. I haven’t noticed any decrease in the number of mozzies, but I have noticed the increase in gecko droppings! Ugh! Such a small animal, such a large dropping!
The other day I picked up a piece of something from the lounge room floor. It looked like a bit of soft plastic wrap – I spread it out a bit, and guess what? It was the skin of a gecko, complete with little feet and toes, just like a rubber glove. There is now a sizeable dent in the ceiling where my head hit it as I screamed and flung this nasty object away from myself. Did you know geckoes shed their skins – I certainly didn’t.
The thought that they’re having this life in my lounge room, behind my furniture and behind my paintings, shedding, eating, sleeping, mating even perhaps, is the most horrible thought. Some people think they’re cute, some people like them – some people are mad!
Of course, it could be worse – it could be larger reptiles, or deadly ones. We saw a snake on a bush track recently – a shiny red bellied black. We stopped the car and looked at it through the windscreen. I insisted my husband reverse back – what if it crawled underneath the car and even up into the underbody of the car? At first I thought it was dead, then it moved its head and looked at me. Not at my husband, at me. See?
There were also carpet snakes in this area, and we saw two – I’m still considering whether I could outrun one, if the need arose. The carpet snakes reminded me of a friend who used to live in a rain forest area, and had grown up with snakes in her ceiling. Nothing to worry about, she would assure me – that is until one went to carpet snake heaven up in the roof, and decomposed with horrendous smells. Dead or alive they’re trouble!
We travelled in West Australia a little while ago, and during the trip stayed at a beautiful cabin in a beautiful caravan park on a beautiful lake. All was beautiful, until I saw a fully four foot long goanna plodding his way determinedly under our cabin. For the rest of the stay I slept with my head slightly raised from the pillow listening for any suspicious noises.
Then there was the little whip snake on the path. An interested crowd gathered – people oooh-ed and aah-ed. I ugh-ed and yuk-ed. Someone said they’re not dangerous, but this tiny fellow was most aggressive, standing on his tail – well, they’re all tail really, aren’t they – and hissing. When the park caretaker disposed of it with his shovel, the crowd all went boo. I was alone in saying hurrah! One of the women in the crowd said she’d had a snake – a large one, a venomous one – in her tent the day before, and she’d – get this! – chucked a pillow at it to shoo it out. This lady needs medical attention, right?
Then, as we were checking out, the receptionist said casually, ‘Did you see our crocodile?’ After she got me down off the counter, she said, ‘No, not here – in the lake – he comes up onto the shore every evening. He’s lovely.’ What are the chances of that - two mad ladies in the same caravan park!
At home we have blue tongue lizards – they inhabit the garden, and sometimes go into our laundry, which is on ground level, and crawl in under the beer fridge. The general scenario is that I go into the laundry, effectively standing between them and the door way, they hear me, and I hear them – little claws scrabbling on the tiles. What a sound! I’m first out, and if there’s a man around I beg and plead and cry to please take the lizard out of the laundry.
Men tend to be gruff at times like these and say helpful things like ‘it can’t hurt you’. Oh yeah, how do they know? Can you imagine a blue tongue latching onto your arm – there’s no venom so that wouldn’t kill me, but the heart attack would.
The worst reptile of all must be the Komodo Dragon – they eat people! I’ve seen it in the newspaper – Komodo Dragon Eats Person. They are the stuff of nightmares. Thank God they live on an island somewhere and not in Australia. I’ve seen one, penned up, and in its heavy footed plodding towards the wire I could tell that out of all the people looking at him, who was he looking at, and flicking his tongue at – little old me!
I can remember seeing a photograph of men – ten or twelve of them – standing ankle deep in a swamp in South America holding what looked like a tree. No, it wasn’t a tree – it was a snake. The largest snake you could ever imagine. So large that it didn’t all fit into the photograph. The men were all grinning. They had willingly – can you believe this? – waded into the swamp to find that creature. What were they thinking of!
Some people like to have their photographs taken with snakes draped around their necks. If I’m ever in the position when someone offers me a snake to drape around my neck I say as politely as I can, ‘No, not today, thank you, really’. Its quite hard to be polite while stridently screaming, and running backwards.
There was a time when I was constantly leaping out of the car to wade through the roadside grass in the Gulf country and take photos of termite mounds, amazing because they were taller than a man, and native flowers and other odds and ends– that is until I saw a very large snake emerge from said grass. All photos from then on were from the inside of the car.
I know there are no snakes in Ireland or in New Zealand, but its no good my shifting to either place, as I’m sure they have some sort of reptiles. And the Artic is out of the question, because I hate the cold too.
So, if you have a phobia, I’m the person to sympathise with you. You can be scared of anything at all – moths, feathers – and they really can’t hurt you! – and I’ll understand. I’ll just think of those little geckoes, and come out in a cold sweat, and I’ll hold your hand, and say soothingly, ‘I understand completely’.
© Nelma Ward
I don’t know why I hate reptiles, I just do. They are this awful skin which moves loosely over their bodies – they look as if they’re moving about inside – it’s a horrible effect. They may have brains the size of a grain of rice or a bit bigger, but they look at you – with intent. I believe they have my number.
Why the geckoes moved into my lounge room is a mystery. They never used to be there, but now they live happily behind the furniture and behind the paintings. Sometimes they poke their heads out at night, looking for insects. I’m told they are good at keeping mosquitoes at bay. I haven’t noticed any decrease in the number of mozzies, but I have noticed the increase in gecko droppings! Ugh! Such a small animal, such a large dropping!
The other day I picked up a piece of something from the lounge room floor. It looked like a bit of soft plastic wrap – I spread it out a bit, and guess what? It was the skin of a gecko, complete with little feet and toes, just like a rubber glove. There is now a sizeable dent in the ceiling where my head hit it as I screamed and flung this nasty object away from myself. Did you know geckoes shed their skins – I certainly didn’t.
The thought that they’re having this life in my lounge room, behind my furniture and behind my paintings, shedding, eating, sleeping, mating even perhaps, is the most horrible thought. Some people think they’re cute, some people like them – some people are mad!
Of course, it could be worse – it could be larger reptiles, or deadly ones. We saw a snake on a bush track recently – a shiny red bellied black. We stopped the car and looked at it through the windscreen. I insisted my husband reverse back – what if it crawled underneath the car and even up into the underbody of the car? At first I thought it was dead, then it moved its head and looked at me. Not at my husband, at me. See?
There were also carpet snakes in this area, and we saw two – I’m still considering whether I could outrun one, if the need arose. The carpet snakes reminded me of a friend who used to live in a rain forest area, and had grown up with snakes in her ceiling. Nothing to worry about, she would assure me – that is until one went to carpet snake heaven up in the roof, and decomposed with horrendous smells. Dead or alive they’re trouble!
We travelled in West Australia a little while ago, and during the trip stayed at a beautiful cabin in a beautiful caravan park on a beautiful lake. All was beautiful, until I saw a fully four foot long goanna plodding his way determinedly under our cabin. For the rest of the stay I slept with my head slightly raised from the pillow listening for any suspicious noises.
Then there was the little whip snake on the path. An interested crowd gathered – people oooh-ed and aah-ed. I ugh-ed and yuk-ed. Someone said they’re not dangerous, but this tiny fellow was most aggressive, standing on his tail – well, they’re all tail really, aren’t they – and hissing. When the park caretaker disposed of it with his shovel, the crowd all went boo. I was alone in saying hurrah! One of the women in the crowd said she’d had a snake – a large one, a venomous one – in her tent the day before, and she’d – get this! – chucked a pillow at it to shoo it out. This lady needs medical attention, right?
Then, as we were checking out, the receptionist said casually, ‘Did you see our crocodile?’ After she got me down off the counter, she said, ‘No, not here – in the lake – he comes up onto the shore every evening. He’s lovely.’ What are the chances of that - two mad ladies in the same caravan park!
At home we have blue tongue lizards – they inhabit the garden, and sometimes go into our laundry, which is on ground level, and crawl in under the beer fridge. The general scenario is that I go into the laundry, effectively standing between them and the door way, they hear me, and I hear them – little claws scrabbling on the tiles. What a sound! I’m first out, and if there’s a man around I beg and plead and cry to please take the lizard out of the laundry.
Men tend to be gruff at times like these and say helpful things like ‘it can’t hurt you’. Oh yeah, how do they know? Can you imagine a blue tongue latching onto your arm – there’s no venom so that wouldn’t kill me, but the heart attack would.
The worst reptile of all must be the Komodo Dragon – they eat people! I’ve seen it in the newspaper – Komodo Dragon Eats Person. They are the stuff of nightmares. Thank God they live on an island somewhere and not in Australia. I’ve seen one, penned up, and in its heavy footed plodding towards the wire I could tell that out of all the people looking at him, who was he looking at, and flicking his tongue at – little old me!
I can remember seeing a photograph of men – ten or twelve of them – standing ankle deep in a swamp in South America holding what looked like a tree. No, it wasn’t a tree – it was a snake. The largest snake you could ever imagine. So large that it didn’t all fit into the photograph. The men were all grinning. They had willingly – can you believe this? – waded into the swamp to find that creature. What were they thinking of!
Some people like to have their photographs taken with snakes draped around their necks. If I’m ever in the position when someone offers me a snake to drape around my neck I say as politely as I can, ‘No, not today, thank you, really’. Its quite hard to be polite while stridently screaming, and running backwards.
There was a time when I was constantly leaping out of the car to wade through the roadside grass in the Gulf country and take photos of termite mounds, amazing because they were taller than a man, and native flowers and other odds and ends– that is until I saw a very large snake emerge from said grass. All photos from then on were from the inside of the car.
I know there are no snakes in Ireland or in New Zealand, but its no good my shifting to either place, as I’m sure they have some sort of reptiles. And the Artic is out of the question, because I hate the cold too.
So, if you have a phobia, I’m the person to sympathise with you. You can be scared of anything at all – moths, feathers – and they really can’t hurt you! – and I’ll understand. I’ll just think of those little geckoes, and come out in a cold sweat, and I’ll hold your hand, and say soothingly, ‘I understand completely’.
© Nelma Ward
1 comment:
How dare the geckoes live in your lounge room! Actually it must be because it' nice and warm and clean. Knowing Nelma is particular about her housekeeping it can't be because they find anything to eat in there.
Speaking of phobias, reptiles are a comparatively sensible compared to some. I once saw an interview with a girl - normal,young pretty girl - who was scared to death of buttons. Yes, buttons. Her family had to have zips and hooks and eyes in their clothes.
Monya
Post a Comment