Hens aren't the only critters molting around here. Chilibelina the leopard gecko has shed all but a hat and sock.
She also looks as if she doesn't quite know what to do about it. Not surprising, considering a reptile's brain power.
Showing posts with label gecko. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gecko. Show all posts
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Miro takes up interior decoration
An almighty crashing, banging and clunking sent me running to the source where Miro had caught a foot in the lamp cord in the living room, yanked the plug from the wall, and dragged the lamp banging along behind him into the dining room and around the table, roping up Alanis' Coolaroo bed and several chairs. I threw myself on the dog and wrestled him down in order to unwrap the cord from his paw, whereupon he pranced away ready for more redecorating work. The lamp is a total goner. But I'm looking at the bright side: the chairs are OK, less a few scratches, and the china cabinet my grandfather made is intact. I guess Miro didn't like that particular lamp.
The noise woke Chilibelina the leopard gecko.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Drama in the mealworm dish
Chilibelina the leopard gecko, visiting during college winter break, lay sleeping with her head propped on her water dish. She sleeps with her front legs extended, their undersides turned up like a person lying on her stomach on the beach. I can’t figure out how she can be comfortable without upper-body support, letting the rim of the water dish press into her throat. Any of us humans would be choking.
I was also watching the mealworms because one woke up and raised its upper half as if trying to see over the edge of the food dish. Mealworms appear to have legs only on the front half, starting behind the head and extending under the next three segments. My son tells me that when not covered with white vitamin powder and looked at through a magnifying glass, they appear to have goofy smiley-faces. I find them creepy because they’re more like caterpillars than real worms. Real worms are very good things and do not turn into moths.
Anyway, this one mealworm decided to move and went plowing, albeit very slowly, into the side of another worm that lay crosswise in front of it. Worm #2 woke up—if they even do things like wake and sleep—raised its head, and lay back down again. Now # 1 and 2 are lying with heads side by side, asleep or in conference, while a third worm who is underneath worm 1 lifted its upper end and, legs flailing, tried to crawl out from under 1 by heaving itself over worm 2. He got half-way over and stopped to rest. Then he got started again, disturbing worm 1 who shifted slightly. It’s like watching the mealworm version of Desperate Housewives.
I was also watching the mealworms because one woke up and raised its upper half as if trying to see over the edge of the food dish. Mealworms appear to have legs only on the front half, starting behind the head and extending under the next three segments. My son tells me that when not covered with white vitamin powder and looked at through a magnifying glass, they appear to have goofy smiley-faces. I find them creepy because they’re more like caterpillars than real worms. Real worms are very good things and do not turn into moths.
Anyway, this one mealworm decided to move and went plowing, albeit very slowly, into the side of another worm that lay crosswise in front of it. Worm #2 woke up—if they even do things like wake and sleep—raised its head, and lay back down again. Now # 1 and 2 are lying with heads side by side, asleep or in conference, while a third worm who is underneath worm 1 lifted its upper end and, legs flailing, tried to crawl out from under 1 by heaving itself over worm 2. He got half-way over and stopped to rest. Then he got started again, disturbing worm 1 who shifted slightly. It’s like watching the mealworm version of Desperate Housewives.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
ambitious cricket & gecko
Buying flea stuff yesterday at the local pet supply store (no chain stores, if possible), I picked up some crickets and mealworms for my son's leopard gecko. He gave her a mouthful of a name, Chillibilena, so I call her Chilly-Billy. Chilly prefers crickets over mealworms. She stalks them on her long, translucent orange legs, then lunges so quickly that you'll miss the movement if you blink. Tongue flashes out, gulp, she smacks her lips, and it's on to the next.
We buy a dozen at a time and she eats them in a couple of days. Important note: crickets go stale quickly, so you don't want to buy more than your reptile will eat in a short time. Some of the crickets commit suicide in the shallow water dish, so it's best to check back frequently to remove them. Dead crickets apparently lose flavor. Actually, if they're not moving, they won't get the gecko's attention.
One cricket has been steadily chirping since yesterday. He reminds me of one of my cockatiels, who goes into these long arias of sound and then suddenly stops. This one noisy cricket climbs to the top of the coconut shell that is Chilly-Billy's boudior, looks down at the others, and chirps. Antennae vibrate back and forth, so you really have to wonder if they're communicating about something. It's like those movies of revolutions when one guy stands on a platform exhorting the crowd to insurrection or riot. Crickets are not smart enough to unite their forces in this manner but I'll let you know if that changes.
Meanwhile, Chilly-Billy doesn't seem to mind the noise and sleeps right through it. If it were me, though, I'd eat that particular cricket first.
We buy a dozen at a time and she eats them in a couple of days. Important note: crickets go stale quickly, so you don't want to buy more than your reptile will eat in a short time. Some of the crickets commit suicide in the shallow water dish, so it's best to check back frequently to remove them. Dead crickets apparently lose flavor. Actually, if they're not moving, they won't get the gecko's attention.
One cricket has been steadily chirping since yesterday. He reminds me of one of my cockatiels, who goes into these long arias of sound and then suddenly stops. This one noisy cricket climbs to the top of the coconut shell that is Chilly-Billy's boudior, looks down at the others, and chirps. Antennae vibrate back and forth, so you really have to wonder if they're communicating about something. It's like those movies of revolutions when one guy stands on a platform exhorting the crowd to insurrection or riot. Crickets are not smart enough to unite their forces in this manner but I'll let you know if that changes.
Meanwhile, Chilly-Billy doesn't seem to mind the noise and sleeps right through it. If it were me, though, I'd eat that particular cricket first.
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