... is for humans just as much as leopard geckos. Maybe someday Citrus and I can share dinner.
www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2011/09/bug-nuggets/8599/
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
A close call
Two weeks ago, I moved from New Jersey to Massachusetts and nearly lost Citrus in the process. This post would have been a tearful post explaining and decrying the brevity of this blog, seeing as I would have been gecko-less.
I rented a 12-ft Penske truck (which, by the way, is so wonderful a
company that I'm renting from them again this week as I move from Massachusetts to DC). Once all of my belongings were loaded into it, I moved Citrus from his tank to his travel box, and placed him securely in the cabin on top of his tank. Car rides are traumatic events for the reptile, and I wanted to make sure he was moved into the truck as late as possible.
As I was getting ready to drive off, I received a call from my brother, who was helping his girlfriend move concurrently. Their old U-Haul trailer had broken down before getting out of the driveway, and they needed help getting a truck. I ran off and accompanied my brother to the Penske rental office. By the time I returned to my own truck, I had been gone for nearly 45 minutes, during which time, my boyfriend soon discovered, Citrus had escaped from his travel case. The lid hadn't been closed tightly because I had placed an excessive number of towels to provide him with more cushioning.
I looked all over the cabin, crawled into nooks and crannies and searched under the seats, but the gecko was nowhere to be found (it was also unfortunate that Citrus is a similar shade of yellow as the Penske paint). Recalling stories from NPR's Car Talk about leopard geckos that make their way from the pedals to the dashboard, never to be heard from again, I checked the spaces underneath the truck's pedals and, to my surprise, found them to be too narrow for Citrus. Finally, I noticed that the floor to the cabin -- a large gray sheet of plastic -- was not nailed securely at the edges. Upon lifting the edges of the plastic and discovering carpeting, I concluded that the lizard had crawled underneath, deeper than I could reach. Heartbroken and horrified, and with visions of Citrus stuck underneath my feet, I had no choice but to proceed as planned. I drove off.
A couple of hours onto the highway, my boyfriend exclaimed, "There he is!" Lo and behold, Citrus had emerged from his hiding place and was crawling behind the passenger seat. But he wiggled out of our grasp and hid underneath the plastic flooring once more. With a renewed sense of hope, we drove on and within the hour, Citrus appeared again. We pulled up by the side of CT-15 and scooped up the lizard, which had been calmly wandering behind us. After a stern talking-to and many tears of relief, Citrus was returned to his travel case and he completed the ride in our lap.
Bad gecko...!
I rented a 12-ft Penske truck (which, by the way, is so wonderful a
company that I'm renting from them again this week as I move from Massachusetts to DC). Once all of my belongings were loaded into it, I moved Citrus from his tank to his travel box, and placed him securely in the cabin on top of his tank. Car rides are traumatic events for the reptile, and I wanted to make sure he was moved into the truck as late as possible.As I was getting ready to drive off, I received a call from my brother, who was helping his girlfriend move concurrently. Their old U-Haul trailer had broken down before getting out of the driveway, and they needed help getting a truck. I ran off and accompanied my brother to the Penske rental office. By the time I returned to my own truck, I had been gone for nearly 45 minutes, during which time, my boyfriend soon discovered, Citrus had escaped from his travel case. The lid hadn't been closed tightly because I had placed an excessive number of towels to provide him with more cushioning.
I looked all over the cabin, crawled into nooks and crannies and searched under the seats, but the gecko was nowhere to be found (it was also unfortunate that Citrus is a similar shade of yellow as the Penske paint). Recalling stories from NPR's Car Talk about leopard geckos that make their way from the pedals to the dashboard, never to be heard from again, I checked the spaces underneath the truck's pedals and, to my surprise, found them to be too narrow for Citrus. Finally, I noticed that the floor to the cabin -- a large gray sheet of plastic -- was not nailed securely at the edges. Upon lifting the edges of the plastic and discovering carpeting, I concluded that the lizard had crawled underneath, deeper than I could reach. Heartbroken and horrified, and with visions of Citrus stuck underneath my feet, I had no choice but to proceed as planned. I drove off.
A couple of hours onto the highway, my boyfriend exclaimed, "There he is!" Lo and behold, Citrus had emerged from his hiding place and was crawling behind the passenger seat. But he wiggled out of our grasp and hid underneath the plastic flooring once more. With a renewed sense of hope, we drove on and within the hour, Citrus appeared again. We pulled up by the side of CT-15 and scooped up the lizard, which had been calmly wandering behind us. After a stern talking-to and many tears of relief, Citrus was returned to his travel case and he completed the ride in our lap.
Bad gecko...!
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Gecko Potty
Geckos are known for being clean animals -- they poop only in one specific corner of their tank, usually the farthest from their favorite hangout spot. This makes keeping the tank clean relatively easy.
However, their habits can change, and in Citrus' case, it was an early sign that he was sick. He started pooping all over one of his imitation rocks. I would scrape off feces and clean it with dish-washing detergent (and a sponge reserved for that purpose). It didn't stop Citrus' rock from being so filthy that I eventually had to throw it out. Then, Citrus struggled to find a good spot. By then, I knew that it was especially important to keep his parasite-infected excrement as far away from him and for as short a period of time as possible. Unfortunately, he began to pick a spot right behind his home-rock, which was decidedly unsanitary. That's when I came up with the idea of a gecko port-a-potty!
Citrus loves it. From the very beginning, he's been using it as I hoped he would. The advantages are obvious:
1) It's easy to clean. Just fold up the used bit of towel and replace.
2) It's cheap. Instead of replacing all the towel lining the bottom of the tank (in this case, two sheets and a bit), you're only replacing half a sheet at a time.
3) It's easy to make and replace. It takes me five minutes and I replace it about once a month, as soon as the materials become available.
Materials:
Kleenex box
Paper towel
Cardboard
X-acto knife
scissors
Scotch tape
Step 1: Tear out the plastic lining the opening of your kleenex box and decide which way it will lie in the tank. Make sure you keep this orientation in mind at all times. Cut out more of an opening with the scissors for easy reptilian access.
Tip: The smaller, square boxes of kleenex fit into the tank perfectly. Some may be too big.
Step 2: Using the X-acto knife, cut along the top edge of your box to create a lid that will facilitate your clean-up.
Step 3: Line the bottom of the potty first with cardboard. The cardboard isn't necessary, but it reinforces the bottom of the box. Then line with two half sheets of paper towels.
Tip: Measurements for the lining should be approximate. Gauge where you should cut by approximating against the box. You'd be surprised at how tight a fit you can still get!
Step 4: Finish off the box with two pieces of tape to hold the lid lightly closed. I prefer to curl one end of the tape so that I can lift it off and open the lid more easily.
Step 5 (optional): If your gecko likes some privacy when going to the bathroom (who wouldn't!), it's a good idea to make a flap because the opening of the kleenex box is big. I cut out a piece of cardboard that is the same width as the potty and short enough that my gecko can still climb into the potty. I tape this flap, gray-side facing out, to the inside of the box for aesthetic purposes.
Tip: Keep your materials simple. My source of cardboard is any box I have at hand, for example, pasta boxes, and I use the same one to line the potty and make a flap.
However, their habits can change, and in Citrus' case, it was an early sign that he was sick. He started pooping all over one of his imitation rocks. I would scrape off feces and clean it with dish-washing detergent (and a sponge reserved for that purpose). It didn't stop Citrus' rock from being so filthy that I eventually had to throw it out. Then, Citrus struggled to find a good spot. By then, I knew that it was especially important to keep his parasite-infected excrement as far away from him and for as short a period of time as possible. Unfortunately, he began to pick a spot right behind his home-rock, which was decidedly unsanitary. That's when I came up with the idea of a gecko port-a-potty!
Citrus loves it. From the very beginning, he's been using it as I hoped he would. The advantages are obvious:
1) It's easy to clean. Just fold up the used bit of towel and replace.
2) It's cheap. Instead of replacing all the towel lining the bottom of the tank (in this case, two sheets and a bit), you're only replacing half a sheet at a time.
3) It's easy to make and replace. It takes me five minutes and I replace it about once a month, as soon as the materials become available.
Materials:
Kleenex box
Paper towel
Cardboard
X-acto knife
scissors
Scotch tape
Step 1: Tear out the plastic lining the opening of your kleenex box and decide which way it will lie in the tank. Make sure you keep this orientation in mind at all times. Cut out more of an opening with the scissors for easy reptilian access.
Tip: The smaller, square boxes of kleenex fit into the tank perfectly. Some may be too big.
Step 2: Using the X-acto knife, cut along the top edge of your box to create a lid that will facilitate your clean-up.
Step 3: Line the bottom of the potty first with cardboard. The cardboard isn't necessary, but it reinforces the bottom of the box. Then line with two half sheets of paper towels.
Tip: Measurements for the lining should be approximate. Gauge where you should cut by approximating against the box. You'd be surprised at how tight a fit you can still get!
Step 4: Finish off the box with two pieces of tape to hold the lid lightly closed. I prefer to curl one end of the tape so that I can lift it off and open the lid more easily.
Step 5 (optional): If your gecko likes some privacy when going to the bathroom (who wouldn't!), it's a good idea to make a flap because the opening of the kleenex box is big. I cut out a piece of cardboard that is the same width as the potty and short enough that my gecko can still climb into the potty. I tape this flap, gray-side facing out, to the inside of the box for aesthetic purposes.
Tip: Keep your materials simple. My source of cardboard is any box I have at hand, for example, pasta boxes, and I use the same one to line the potty and make a flap.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Traveling without your leo
The wonderful thing about taking care of two desert creatures is that you don't have to worry about finding a substitute caretaker even on trips up to two weeks. The one exception was while Citrus was sick with hookworms, in which case it was imperative that his poop be scooped up immediately and his cage kept in very clean condition.
I have just now left New Jersey (woohoo...) to spend my long weekend in Boston where my parents and boyfriend live. Leaving Citrus behind is hard, and although I know that I could easily bring him on the bus with me -- he is quite unobtrusive, even in his carrier -- the brevity of the trip would not make the trip worth the stress inflicted on the poor little guy.
Instead, I made sure that he had ample amounts of worms in his food bowl, access to clean water, and a clean cage. He just finished shedding six hours before my departure, so that caused me even less anxiety.
And you bet that the first thing I do when I return will be to check on my little guy.
I have just now left New Jersey (woohoo...) to spend my long weekend in Boston where my parents and boyfriend live. Leaving Citrus behind is hard, and although I know that I could easily bring him on the bus with me -- he is quite unobtrusive, even in his carrier -- the brevity of the trip would not make the trip worth the stress inflicted on the poor little guy.
Instead, I made sure that he had ample amounts of worms in his food bowl, access to clean water, and a clean cage. He just finished shedding six hours before my departure, so that caused me even less anxiety.
And you bet that the first thing I do when I return will be to check on my little guy.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Almost a Predator
Citrus is normally shy about eating in front of humans and prefers to eat under cover of darkness when the humans are asleep. He hasn't had his normal preferred food, waxworms, since two days ago because I was trying pinky mice, which he has totally ignored.
He was hungry enough today that he didn't care much about having a camera pointed at his face.
Friday, April 8, 2011
His Time of the Month
The first time Citrus shed skin, it happened so quickly that I didn't even know that it had occurred. However, I soon learned that the rapidity of this event was atypical for him. Having been raised without a wet hide or water bowl, Citrus would sometimes struggle for three to four days with the skin barely peeling off of him.
Citrus sheds skin with some irregularity, and the frequency of his sheds depends largely on his food intake and growth during the period between sheds. It occurs at the very least once a month, which has led to some rather tasteless jokes among my college-aged friends. Citrus also seems to have most trouble shedding the skin on his toes and head, particularly the area around his jaw, though that is not always the case, as can be seen in the photo below.
He looks like a monk in a sheer habit. Scandalous.
Seeing his struggles, I've been compelled to help him, and he now regularly gets baths and warm towel rubdowns (what a spoiled lizard!). His wet hide is misted with more regularity. Oftentimes, I also dip a Q-tip in water and gently nudged at the skin on his delicate toes and mouth. I also confess that I have held down corners of his skin against, say, the counter top that he is walking on so that he can tug to get the skin off. I figured that snakes do this against tree branches and rocks -- yes, I'm an avid watcher of the Discovery Channel from the days when it was actually about nature and animals. To date, he doesn't seem to have suffered from it.
It is important to note that herp veterinarians highly discourage manually pulling skin off, as the gecko's new, tender skin can be injured, leading to many other health issues.
The skin is eaten after shedding. Evolutionarily, this increases energy efficiency (why waste good protein?) and decreases the probability that a predator can ascertain the presence of a gecko. Still, Citrus is much less likely to consume the skin if it is wet from his baths, which means that I occasionally remove some from his tank.
Thus, shedding is a significant event for Citrus and I monitor his progress closely so that it can be as smooth a process for him as can be. He certainly gets plenty of loving from his mommy during his time of the month, though I'm sure he'd rather be left alone. Such is motherhood!
Citrus sheds skin with some irregularity, and the frequency of his sheds depends largely on his food intake and growth during the period between sheds. It occurs at the very least once a month, which has led to some rather tasteless jokes among my college-aged friends. Citrus also seems to have most trouble shedding the skin on his toes and head, particularly the area around his jaw, though that is not always the case, as can be seen in the photo below.
He looks like a monk in a sheer habit. Scandalous.
Seeing his struggles, I've been compelled to help him, and he now regularly gets baths and warm towel rubdowns (what a spoiled lizard!). His wet hide is misted with more regularity. Oftentimes, I also dip a Q-tip in water and gently nudged at the skin on his delicate toes and mouth. I also confess that I have held down corners of his skin against, say, the counter top that he is walking on so that he can tug to get the skin off. I figured that snakes do this against tree branches and rocks -- yes, I'm an avid watcher of the Discovery Channel from the days when it was actually about nature and animals. To date, he doesn't seem to have suffered from it.
It is important to note that herp veterinarians highly discourage manually pulling skin off, as the gecko's new, tender skin can be injured, leading to many other health issues.
The skin is eaten after shedding. Evolutionarily, this increases energy efficiency (why waste good protein?) and decreases the probability that a predator can ascertain the presence of a gecko. Still, Citrus is much less likely to consume the skin if it is wet from his baths, which means that I occasionally remove some from his tank.
Thus, shedding is a significant event for Citrus and I monitor his progress closely so that it can be as smooth a process for him as can be. He certainly gets plenty of loving from his mommy during his time of the month, though I'm sure he'd rather be left alone. Such is motherhood!
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Introducing Citrus the Leo
The gecko was a hand-me-down pet who first came to my family two years ago when his owners needed someone to pet-sit for three months while they vacationed in China. My mother, thinking that she had three grown children who could handle the responsibility, brought him home. With my two younger brothers indifferent to our little guest, the task of caring for him soon fell to me.
From the beginning, it seemed a bit odd that the only instructions we had were to feed him ten waxworms every three days. I found recourse in the internet, which told me 1) what his species is, 2) what temperature to set the undertank heat pad (it was a good thing that I had noticed its existence or Citrus would never have lived to star in this blog), and 3) everything else about taking care of a leopard gecko. Since then, I have been able to gather bits and pieces of his history, mainly through my mother since I have never had the occasion to meet his previous owners.
This lizard is, as I like to put it, a "designer" gecko -- bred specially for his skin and eye colors, and temperament. Though he only cost in the neighborhood of $300, already a significant mark-up from the $50 ones from the local pet store, it's a far cry from those priced at $3000 (for example: http://www.westcoastleopardgecko.com/). I have stared long and hard at pictures of Raptors and Super Tangerines, but have never quite figured out which breed Citrus is -- they all look orange to me. When he was acquired, this gecko was nominally the pet of a young man who didn't have time to take care of the lizard anymore. Besides, he isn't the most dynamic pet and is quite lethargic, which is typical for his species. And that young man, at 24, foisted his reptilian charge upon his mother, who eventually found the gecko a new caretaker: me.
When the gecko showed up at the bottom of my parents' staircase in July of 2009, he didn't even have a name.
Meet Citrus.
Citrus, 4, July 2009
From the beginning, it seemed a bit odd that the only instructions we had were to feed him ten waxworms every three days. I found recourse in the internet, which told me 1) what his species is, 2) what temperature to set the undertank heat pad (it was a good thing that I had noticed its existence or Citrus would never have lived to star in this blog), and 3) everything else about taking care of a leopard gecko. Since then, I have been able to gather bits and pieces of his history, mainly through my mother since I have never had the occasion to meet his previous owners.
This lizard is, as I like to put it, a "designer" gecko -- bred specially for his skin and eye colors, and temperament. Though he only cost in the neighborhood of $300, already a significant mark-up from the $50 ones from the local pet store, it's a far cry from those priced at $3000 (for example: http://www.westcoastleopardgecko.com/). I have stared long and hard at pictures of Raptors and Super Tangerines, but have never quite figured out which breed Citrus is -- they all look orange to me. When he was acquired, this gecko was nominally the pet of a young man who didn't have time to take care of the lizard anymore. Besides, he isn't the most dynamic pet and is quite lethargic, which is typical for his species. And that young man, at 24, foisted his reptilian charge upon his mother, who eventually found the gecko a new caretaker: me.
When the gecko showed up at the bottom of my parents' staircase in July of 2009, he didn't even have a name.
Meet Citrus.
Citrus, 4, July 2009
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