Wild Kingdom, Tanzanian Style

I can hear the orphanage's goats bleating outside the open door as I sit in front of the computer. I am not goofing off by writing this post, I am waiting for the latest update of the anti-virus software to finish loading. The sound of the goats reminds me that Tanzania is known as being one of the most bio-diverse countries in Africa. In particular, the guide books speak about incredibly diverse populations of birds and plants.

I don't know about plants, and the only birds I have seen around the orphanage are crows, purple grenadiers, and the scrawny chickens that will eventually end up on the supper table, but I can state with certainty that there are a lot of bugs around here. I have seen a millipede that had to be at least 8 inches long, a grasshopper that was the size of my thumb, and wasps and bees that make their counterparts back home look like dwarfs in comparison. Some nights, we are visited by a moth that is larger than the bats that pick off insects that hover around the porch light. I have seen incredibly beautiful and strange insects like the green creature that looked more like a space alien than a terrestrial animal and incredibly ugly beetles scurrying on the ground. Much to my regret, I have become intimately acquainted with bedbugs and other biting insects that have decided I am the main item on the daily smorgasbord. (I hope the goats appreciate how I am diverting the nasty little buggers from biting them.)

My favourite animals, however, are the skinks and geckos that live in and around the big house here at the orphanage. The skinks live outside the house and patrol the walls and grounds in search of insects to eat. They generally run away when you approach, but if you are patient they sometimes come close to you. The geckos, in contrast, live inside the house. They generally only come out at night, but once in a while they go hunting during the day.

Geckos were involved in a rather unexpected sight the other night at dinner time. We were just finishing supper when I saw the tiniest gecko I have ever seen. It could not have been more than an inch-and-a-half long and, judging by the tentative way it was making its way down the wall, it was clearly not very old. I had just pointed it out to the twins who are volunteering here with me when a larger gecko appeared on the wall that was perpendicular to the youngster. Blame it on Disney, but we assumed that it was the mother gecko coming to shepherd its baby back to the nest. Instead, the bigger gecko suddenly attacked as soon as it noticed the baby. I swear I heard the baby gecko cry out in fright as it tried to run down the wall to evade its attacker. The chase continued down the wall, onto the floor, and behind a cabinet, so I was spared what I imagine was a bloody climax to the encounter. It was a a fitting reminder that even on the walls of a residence, life can be a jungle over here.