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.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
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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