Geckos

There are no snakes, there are no alligators, there are no crocodiles, there are no snapping turtles, (thank God, because I’ve biked through many a mangrove swamp). There are no native mammals except the fruit bat, and it doesn’t count. But there are geckos, geckos, and geckos. And geckos. All sizes, all colours, united by the exact same little gecko turds they leave everywhere. They cling to the walls and ceiling like Spider-man, and you pray that two of them never find each because they’ll issue forth ear-piercing…just awful…war cries before they fight to the death (meaning until one of them lets go). They don’t bite, but they do leave their tail behind if you get too close.

One in particular lives near my food cupboard, eating every ant that tries to reach my honey pot. I wasn’t sure what to think of them when I got to Tonga, until I saw one eat a mosquito in an amazingly quick movement, huzzah!

The honey gecko admiring a bit of fancy Tongan electrical work. Despite his usefulness in keeping away ants, I often find him licking the side of the honey container, making him just as guilty.

A gecko hanging out on the screen of my window, completely oblivious to the fact that a simple flick of my finger would send him flying...not that I would do that...