When it comes to household pests, I am the first to run for the can of bug killer at the mere mention of a cockroach or mosquito. However there are some “uninvited guests” whom I am willing to put up with and even enjoy. The local gecko is one such example. The local name for them is pronounced chi-chak, (note: the correct spelling starts with “tj” and goes down hill from there so I’m sticking to my version, and it’s pronounced “chee chuck”). These cute little reptiles seem to grow to about 15 cm in length, but most of the ones we see inside are 7-10cm. They are found in every house over here and are completely harmless.
Chi-chaks are fairly flat, with a soft pinky-brown skin and big suckers on their toes which allow them to shoot vertically up walls without a problem. Their enormous dark eyes enable them to find insects easily but also give them a really cute, ET-phone-home kind of expression. I think they come in here when I open up the windows in the mornings, although I’ve also seen them slip under the back door, through a space that must be only 4-5mm high.
I can’t imagine that they could survive inside for long; between the air conditioning and the lack of insects the odds are seriously stacked against them, so hubby and I always try to catch them and release them outside. Now this is actually incredibly difficult – these little guys can move so fast, often you don’t even know which direction they have run in! It’s like something out of a cartoon; one moment they're there, the next they are gone. To make matters worse you have to treat them gently because they are soft and squishy (yes I’ve stood on one), and if they are convinced that you really are going to catch and eat them, their tails drop off as a last-ditch effort to escape.
One memorable – in a fuzzy kind of way – evening Holger and I returned home from his work Christmas party to a quiet house. Mieke and Jan Willem were visiting at the time so they had babysat and as we crept in we saw a chi chak shoot under one of the couches. Being more than slightly inebriated obviously the only logical action was to try to catch it RIGHT THEN. So we spent the next 15 minutes stumbling round giggling and trying to corner the poor thing while not waking anybody up. I don’t know how we managed it, at one stage we were both flat on our faces under a couch - God knows what Mieke would have thought it she’d walked out to see only our feet sticking out – but I’m happy to say that we did catch the chi-chak without causing it mortal harm - the alcohol fumes had probably aneathesised it anyway - and it was released onto the balcony.
Anyway, a couple of days ago I was in our bathroom when something went shooting past my head. That woke me up, I can tell you. Turns out there was a chi-chak inside the glass shower – don’t ask me how he managed that – so I grabbed a plastic container and caught him. Just before I released him I thought to grab a photo to show you what they are like, and to warn you that if you visit, you may have to share your bathroom with this guy.
Chi-chaks are fairly flat, with a soft pinky-brown skin and big suckers on their toes which allow them to shoot vertically up walls without a problem. Their enormous dark eyes enable them to find insects easily but also give them a really cute, ET-phone-home kind of expression. I think they come in here when I open up the windows in the mornings, although I’ve also seen them slip under the back door, through a space that must be only 4-5mm high.
I can’t imagine that they could survive inside for long; between the air conditioning and the lack of insects the odds are seriously stacked against them, so hubby and I always try to catch them and release them outside. Now this is actually incredibly difficult – these little guys can move so fast, often you don’t even know which direction they have run in! It’s like something out of a cartoon; one moment they're there, the next they are gone. To make matters worse you have to treat them gently because they are soft and squishy (yes I’ve stood on one), and if they are convinced that you really are going to catch and eat them, their tails drop off as a last-ditch effort to escape.
One memorable – in a fuzzy kind of way – evening Holger and I returned home from his work Christmas party to a quiet house. Mieke and Jan Willem were visiting at the time so they had babysat and as we crept in we saw a chi chak shoot under one of the couches. Being more than slightly inebriated obviously the only logical action was to try to catch it RIGHT THEN. So we spent the next 15 minutes stumbling round giggling and trying to corner the poor thing while not waking anybody up. I don’t know how we managed it, at one stage we were both flat on our faces under a couch - God knows what Mieke would have thought it she’d walked out to see only our feet sticking out – but I’m happy to say that we did catch the chi-chak without causing it mortal harm - the alcohol fumes had probably aneathesised it anyway - and it was released onto the balcony.
Anyway, a couple of days ago I was in our bathroom when something went shooting past my head. That woke me up, I can tell you. Turns out there was a chi-chak inside the glass shower – don’t ask me how he managed that – so I grabbed a plastic container and caught him. Just before I released him I thought to grab a photo to show you what they are like, and to warn you that if you visit, you may have to share your bathroom with this guy.
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