Tokay

After two months here in Cambodia I was really beginning to wonder if I was actually in the third world – sure there are lots of village people and you can’t drink the water, but the picture is sadly incomplete without voracious wildlife. My first conformation that Cambodia was truly a third world country came when, sitting in the office, I heard Tara yell “Barak! You have to come see this lizard!!!”. The reptile in question had backed itself into a corner behind the refrigerator and was desperately wishing it was invisible, however it’s bright orange poka-dotted body made the feat rather impossible. With a body a full 7 inches long and an 8-inch tail to boot, the lizard was rather impressive; even without the bright yellow eyes with sinister black slits and gaping cavernous mouth.

A rather extraordinary din ensued with shouts of “GRAB IT!” “GET ME A BOX!” “TOKAY TOKAY HISS” YOWCH IT BITES” QUICK MOVE THE FRIDGE, NO DON’T SQUISH IT!” “TOKAY HISS TOKAY” “GRAB THE BROOM” and so on as Tara and I threw furniture aside in chaotic pursuit of the lizard. Two minutes later amidst a jumble of overturned chairs and boxes, with cupboards and the fridge shoved aside, I found myself stretched out on the floor with a Tupperware container firmly inverted over a rather agitated monster gecko. Yes a gecko. The feet were undeniably geckoish. I had to firmly assert my biology degree to the doubters in the room and a subsequent trip to the all-knowing internet proved my observations correct and gave both a name and description to my new found pet (we’ll get to the pet part later). In my possession I held one of the largest and most aggressive gecko species in the world, the Tokay Gecko. While the cute little opaque ones we are all familiar with make delightful chirping noises, this particular species is known for it’s percussive TOKAY calls and aggressive spatting (spatting is a scientific term we biologists use, which is defined as: “to spit without discharge; a sudden release of air giving a loud spitting noise without the phlegm”). Hence it’s name.

Sadly, in the previously described fray my reptilian specimen had become 2 inches shorter due to the loss of a small portion of it’s tail. Many of you humanitarian types may decry this as brutal handling. Further inquiry would lead you to the understanding that geckos in fact detach their tails willfully and leave them twitching to distract predators and thus make their escape. However, in this particular instance your initial conclusion was correct since the loss of the tail was due to the fact that the Tupperware used to catch the gecko was about 2 inches too short, causing the tail to be severed when the fateful trap was sprung. You may take solace in the knowledge that it will grow back in three weeks.

As you no doubt can imagine I was quite excited about my new find and immediately began to show him off to my fellow Cambodian staff members. I was rather pleased that most of them shared my interest, though I was a bit puzzled by the manner in which they displayed their enthusiasm. Mostly it consisted of jumping back and screaming or hiding behind the curtains or under a desk. However I concluded that this must be a cultural idiosyncrasy and determined to research its origins and meaning at a later date.

The first order of business of course was to find a home for my new pet. Cambodian markets contain a plethora of wonders and in no time I had found a local glass shop that made aquariums. They were somewhat bewildered by my large custom request, but after parting with $26 I soon find myself in possession of a sizable glass aquarium with a wooden top. The internet informed me that Tokay’s require a humidifier with a timer to keep it’s environment moist, and a heat lamp with a thermostat and timer to regulate temperature changes during the day and at night. Although Phnom Penh offers none of these fancy gadgets, I deduced that since this is the Tokay’s natural environment, Mother Nature would be quite sufficient in regulating these strict climate conditions accurately. I gathered a few large stones, a log, and a several plants, and placed them in aesthetic locations in my Tokay’s new home. He seemed to relish the privacy of his boulder house and eyed me accusingly from the dark shadows. However he came out later that night and explored his new environment, dining on the array of insect dishes I’d carefully prepared for him. I’m sure that once the initial shock is over he will settle in nicely to having his food brought to him while he sleeps contentedly on my office desk. Of course I will probably have to talk to the staff about their curiosity since I cannot have them hiding under desks and screaming, no matter how excited and interested they are in my Tokay, or we will get nothing accomplished here at work.