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British Mensa Travel Special Interest Group |
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Tale
of a gecko Geckos are little greenish lizards that live in the tropics. They are usually seen by humans when they’re running round the walls near the ceiling, eating insects. They make a clucking/clicking noise, calling to each other, that sounds like ‘ge-ko’. I assume that is how they got their name. I used to respond by calling out ‘eat faster!’ – particularly when rain had produced a large crop of mozzies to eat me alive. As symbiotic relationships go, human and gecko is a very good one. When the geckos are well fed, the humans have fewer itchy bites – everyone’s happy. The ‘roach motel’ is a cockroach trap. It is a cardboard rectangle, open at two ends, coated internally with a mix of glue and pheromones. The smell attracts the roaches and they get stuck in the glue. It avoids the problem of them spraying eggs around when you squash them – a trait that makes roaches very successful survivors as a species. Our world is one of swings and roundabouts and there is a downside to the roach motel. As I discovered in Hong Kong, geckos also eat cockroaches. Two geckos had gone into my trap to eat the roaches and got stuck. When I found them, one was completely flat on his stomach and had gone a worrying grey colour. The other was only partly stuck and obviously distressed, but still green and with the energy to struggle. I phoned a friend. He calmed me down and gave me some good advice. I took it and poured cooking oil over the sticky surface of the trap. With a titanic effort, one gecko slid himself free. He ended up in the stainless-steel kitchen sink, running around in circles, looking freaked out. The combination of oil and metal stopped him escaping and he certainly didn’t want me picking him up, even if I could catch him. A spatula-bridge solved that problem and he was off and away. One success and I went back to the trap for round two. The second gecko hadn’t been able to free himself. Too much of him was in contact with the glue, the chemicals were poisoning him and he was exhausted from his earlier struggles. He was doomed – it was just a matter of time. I’d accidentally killed him with the roach motel – there was no avoiding the responsibility. But what to do next? Though lizards don’t have emotions as such, they are hardwired to pull away from pain, as are all living creatures. They feel it, even if they don’t have the added dimension of having emotional opinions about it, as humans do. I decided he was suffering, even if he didn’t display it on his face. I weighed that against my squeamishness and decided to grasp the nettle. I cut the doomed gecko’s head off with a carving knife. The experience made me vow never to use another roach motel. For me, geckos are worth too much to be collateral damage in the ‘war against’ cockroaches. This involves the intertwined balances between geckos and roaches, geckos and humans, manufacturers and consumers and humanity and disease. Wiping out the roaches is undesirable, as it would disrupt the food chain and cause pollution. One solution ‘works with’ the roaches to control them and benefits everybody else – gecko pheromone attractant spray. The roach-motel manufacturer, working with industrial chemists, can replace their brand and profit-stream, rather than just losing it. The customer can get rid of the cockroaches in an ethical and environmentally friendly manner, which would be popular and thus profitable. Humans can reduce the spread of dirt and disease. The geckos head towards the pheromone spray, find the cockroaches and become as fat and happy as lizards get. People can attract in cute, low-maintenance pets – ideal for busy workers or beginners in animal husbandry. Everybody’s happy. First published in VISA 96 (Apr 2011) |