Mugwomps

mugwomps

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“Sometimes when I’m working, Kaiju will violently shove the laptop away…”

I’ve never kept reptiles other than catch-examine-release…does your Very Large lizard actually want cuddles from you? Is she, um, bright enough to know you from other humans? Sorry, I am as ignorant as I am curious!

That is actually an EXTREMELY GOOD QUESTION and something I’ve been working on defining for as long as I’ve known Kaiju! It’s hard to describe affection without being anthropomorphic, so I usually approach this question by looking at what I know about reptile behavior and then trying to figure out what specific behavioral sets mean. This is gonna be a long post- it’s something I REALLY LOVE talking about.

Reptiles socialize in ways that are very different from mammals, and this can be really confusing- especially when one of the big things they tolerate humans for is our body heat. Research into reptile behavior suggests that lizards can definitely distinguish between people by scent alone, as well as by sound. It’s not uncommon for captive lizards to recognize their primary keeper- who’s feeding them, who’s interacting with them. Kaiju can actually differentiate between my clothes and other peoples’ clothes (she’s a horrible laundry thief). The people don’t even need to be in them. But beyond that, the most interesting things (in my opinion) happen in larger lizards- things that are big enough not to be everybody’s prey species, things that are able to be a little more confident and less reliant on hiding or running away.

The benchmarks for attention-seeking behavior and and curiosity/interest in humans that isn’t food-driven have been best studied in Komodo dragons due to interest in the zoo industry because encouraging these behaviors has become a key part of Komodo dragon management. These criteria include interacting with human keepers in a non-food context, expressing heightened interest in items that smell like a specific human, and non-predatory non-regulatory behavior- i.e. play. Trooper Walsh, who’s the guy at the National Zoo who got Komodo dragons to breed in captivity and Gordon Burghardt from UT, as well as a bunch of other herpetologists lay it all out in a chapter of Komodo Dragons: Biology and Conservation, which is one of the best books about big reptiles I’ve ever read. An example of both play and preference is seen here- Kraken, the dragon in question, has no reason to want that handkerchief. It’s not food, it doesn’t smell like food, and it doesn’t look like food. And it’s not feeding time! But she’s gonna take it regardless. Kraken was also notorious for stealing shoes and sticking her face in them, which is something Kaiju does as well. (I think that’s Walsh in the video with her.)

Now, Kaiju is a tegu, not a monitor lizard. But a lot of this still applies- tegus are extremely curious. There’s actually an evolutionary advantage to that- they’re scavengers with extremely broad diets, and investigating novel things can have great rewards. Being able to solve problems and work through natural puzzles is beneficial- there’s definitely incentive to be curious and to get highly comfortable with the environment.

There’s also a lot of anecdotal evidence that just… suggests that they like being around people, that they’re interested in what people are doing. 

This is one of my favorite videos because it’s really cool visual evidence that these tegus… well, want attention. The human offers food and they’re all far more interested in contact and attention. And I don’t think it’s just these tegus- I think it’s any tegu that’s learned that humans can be trusted. I’ve met a whole bunch of really well-socialized tegus, and they definitely have their people- they’re happy to accept pats and scratches, but at the end of the day, their human is their constant. They’re built for different worlds that the one we live in, and while they are highly adaptable and curious, having something they know is safe to return to is probably very comforting. 

So how does this look for my very large lizard in particular? I represent a constant- I’m something that she associates with pleasant things, comfort, and food. But I also represent a continual source of entertainment- I do new, strange things and make odd noises and sometimes dispense food. I pet her- if I don’t, she shoves her face into my hands until I do. Anecdotes aren’t data, and it’s not a rigorous study or anything, but time and again I see her making decisions that put her in proximity to me. I see her scratching at the cage door when I come home. I see her climbing into my bag in the mornings before I go to work, even when she’s got a million other places she could hide. I see her having all this space to move around and regularly choosing to be near me- even when it has nothing to do with thermoregulating or food. When I came in to pick her up from boarding, she fought the lady bringing her out to me and then wouldn’t let me put her down for hours after I got home. It was a struggle to get her in the pet carrier. I see this wild animal falling asleep on my lap, and I have to wonder- this isn’t a dog. This isn’t a cat. She’s not domesticated, and she wasn’t even raised by humans- she’s a feral animal from the swamp in Florida. And yet she feels safe enough to fall asleep on me. I think that means something.