The best, well-the only good thing about working late at night in my studio is the little gecko that stuffs his belly with bugs right in front of me.
The light attracts the bugs to the window which then attracts my little 3 inch friend. I find it delightful watching him hunt. He opens his mouth (the inside is shell pink) and takes a quick and deliberate step towards his intended meal. In a flash, his mouth is full of bug body-the wings unceremoniously sprawled on either side of what would be a smile.
Pretty opportunistic, this little guy. I don’t know what he does for midnight snacks when we’re not home at night. Perhaps he heads for the garage where a gigantic light has recently been blazing 24 hours a day.
However, despite the plethora of bugs that congregate under its buzzing white blaze, I’ve never seen anyone take advantage of this special ability. It’s too bad, because it seems like someone besides the electric company ought to benefit from our eternal flame. (It’s supposed to come on at dusk and extinguish itself at dawn.)
I will say I’ve been provided with some amusement in the form of delicate lacy winged green katydids and beautiful, perfectly patterned moths perched patiently and unchanging beneath the glow. I can always stare at a bug- perfection in miniature. Seems to me any jeweler would appreciate that.
But the first time I saw a gecko in Florida I was beside myself with joy. Native geckos right in my backyard!
When we come home late at night I scan the nearby walls with an intense and speedy gaze. If I’m lucky I’ll catch the translucent wiggle of a fleeing gecko making for the nearest crevice. Sometimes I’ll see a big one, maybe 4 inches long.
Like owls, the fact that they hunt and live by the moon creates mystery and rareness for me. They’re probably as common as red ants (is that even possible), but I would never know it.
Now if I had a pair of night goggles I might be subject to an entirely different reality!
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