favorite. How an animal native to Afghanistan, Iran, Pakistan, and India managed to survive all this time without ever stumbling out of its den and blinking up into the sun remains to be explained. Of course, it is commonly believed that leopard geckos are nocturnal, so the old wives’ tale makes a bit more sense, but it has since been observed that they are in fact crepuscular; most active at dawn and dusk. Though this knowledge has been spread around quite quickly, again, it is all too often met with that impenetrable deafness. “No loose substrate!” is another common one (usually with a few more exclamation marks, for credibility). The acceptable method here, is to use either paper towels, newspaper, shelf-liner, or some other material that is all one large piece to cover the floor of the terrarium, but nothing that they could get into their mouths. Why? Because leopard geckos are stumbling, jolting, awkward, unfailingly clumsy little boneheads. And anyone who tells you otherwise is lying. When they dive for their food, they pour the entirety of their tiny souls into it, but not before they’ve stared at that wiggling food item that they have undoubtedly been presented with at least five times (because it managed to get out of reach four times) from every single angle, wagging their chubby tails like a dog having spotted his owner returning home, tilting their heads back and forth in a motion that implies they’re trying for a good neck cracking rather than a meal. Finally, they go for it, and nine times out of ten, they miss, plunging teeth-first into the dirt. And there, the presumed problem lies. Mouth wide open, eyes shut, careening into whatever is in front of them – but always slightly to the left or right of the actual food – they will certainly get a bite of whatever is on the floor of their terrarium unless it is one solid sheet of material. This brings us to the dreaded word: Impaction. That nice mix of soil and sand is bound to lose a few grains to the stomach of the overzealous reptile, and the experts will be quick to tell you how that stuff isn’t going to come back out again. It will build up, each time your spotted little clutz misses her food, until eventually nothing can get through. After that, death is imminent. Scary stuff, but is it true? Unless a large chunk of brain cells was lost in the capture and taming of these guys, it’s safe to say that their wild counterparts are probably just about as dumb. Although cats and dogs changed quite a bit through domestication, reptiles are never truly domesticated, and therefore more strongly resemble their ancestors, save for the bright colors we’ve selectively bred into them. So, the great grandma of your sweet lazy gecko was definitely out there missing bugs and chomping dirt. However, since the Page 70
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