One of the commonest lizards in suburban Australia would be the Blue Tongued Lizard. It's a stout yeoman of a lizard belonging to the skink family, but it bears little resemblance to the whip-fast skinny little things that live on fences and under logs. No, the Bluey is about fifteen inches long, three inches across and has a disturbingly (to some) snakelike head. When he opens his mouth, he sticks out his long, bright blue tongue (usually to snag a juicy grasshopper or similar). Mrs Bluey doesn't lay eggs: she gives birth to live babies, which are *adorable* when tiny. Nearly every garden in the country has a few nearby and you generally happen upon them basking somewhere sunny.
The thing about Blue Tongues is that they have the most endearing facial expressions of any lizard (even cuter than the swaggering devil-may-care grin of the monitors). They remind me of nothing more than a cat which has just polished off a fat mouse. Smug, y'know?
So, one day many years ago, I was changing my daughter's nappy and gazing out the kitchen window wondering why there were no fruits on my cherry tomato vines. As I stood there, I noticed a bustle in the herbaceous border and a hunormous Old Lady Bluey emerged, oozing along the garden edging (as they do). She stopped at the tomato vines, raised herself upright so that she was standing balanced on her two hindlegs with her tail making a tripod and commenced to nom-nom-nom on my just-reddening baby tomatoes! As I stood there, the greedy old girl gobbled up all of my budding tomatoes and then collapsed to the ground to bask in the sunshine and sleep off her sizeable meal with a look of ultimate smugness and contentment on her lizardly little face.
My husband wanted me to put wire netting around the tomatoes to stop the lizard from stealing them. I didn't, though. I'd rather watch a lizard stealing fruit any day than worry about a few lost tomatoes!
On another occasion, we went for a barbecue with friends to a local national park. While hubby fired up the barbie, the rest of us checked out the local wildlife, notably a Bower Bird's bower lined with blue plastic objects. Suddenly, hubby let out a bellow which brought us all running.
Two juvenile Lace Monitors had come to the barbecue area, lured by the smell of cooking meat. Totally unfazed by a human presence, they had climbed onto the barbecue surrounds and nicked off with a piece of meat! We were astounded at their audacity and laughed about it as we ate our meal.
Much later, the two young lizards came back, clearly looking for more tucker. They came right up to our picnic table and one of them, quick-as-a-wink, dived into my friend, Chris' backpack! For a minute or two, there was a great rummaging and then the long black head rose up like a periscope to check out the surrounds. Having found nothing in Chris' bag, the lizard took off with his mate for pastures greener. We continued to be astounded!
I have many lizard stories about many different kinds of lizards. The thing is, they're everywhere: all it takes is for people to pay attention in order to share and enjoy their lizardly lives being played out alongside our own.
