Let there be light
Aside from the odd tarantula and a snake that lives by the compost heap, the fact that we live in the African tropics usually just means we have a nice view from the front patio of some rainforested hills. Quite pretty, we admire, as we sip on a cup of tea. However, when darkness falls and we humans resort to artificial light, the creepy-crawlies of the surrounding forest are wont to come to call. One place they like to gather is by the strip light that illuminates the side of our house. The decision over whether to turn the lights on therefore means we have dominion over a minor world populated with a bewildering variety of the jungle’s night creatures.
The geckos are the quickest; as soon as we play God they hungrily devour a bellyful of the hundreds of flying ants that swarm to the false moon. Sometimes, they’ll eat so much they fall off the wall. Can’t be good for the digestion but after a few nods of the head they scurry off happy enough. The elaborate three dimensional spider’s webs that hang from our gutters will take some of the rest. Thankfully, the spiders are of a relatively harmless variety, nothing like the armoured yellow and black monsters that infest the bushes near the rubbish pit. Although a rarity, sometimes a cricket will also pay a visit. They are smaller than those you see in Europe but their metallic chirruping, loudest at dusk, is enough to force speech up a notch or two. The noise is akin to a loud version of the background fuzz you hear with a minor bout of tinnitus, of the type you might get after a ‘Tap gig or as a result of dipping your head in a drum n bass bin. Air raids are sometimes made by flying beetles, which sound like Chinook helicopters as they whizz by your ear.
A rainforest will always throw up some jokes from evolution. For instance, there is a type of flying insect, somehow descended from the ant, which have oversized abdomens, seemingly too heavy for their slender wings to achieve anything but the shortest of flights. They zoom about randomly bashing into walls and the floor like early rocket tests. Nevertheless, the abdomens make a crunchy but evidently tasty snack for Mr Scruff. She will happily crunch these poor suckers till she’s ill. But then she’ll have a nibble on anything, even when past experience proves it to be painful. For instance, little squadrons of safari ants occasionally infest the verandah and every time she’ll bite them, and every time they bite her right back. She’ll come whining to us with one of the tenacious little suckers clamped onto her lip and squeal till we rip it out. They can draw blood on humans too but like most things 20 times smaller than you, don’t try it on without undue provocation.
One evening we came out of the house to find a beetle of the goliathus (or feckin gigantic) family harassing a frog. Although it’s pincers were the size of a finger, the dog went bounding over fully expecting either a new playmate or a little light supper. The frog made a sharp exit at this point, glad that something stupider than it was ready to take the limelight. The Scruff almost got her nose bitten off before we stopped the bout telling her that she’d won on points.
The geckos are the quickest; as soon as we play God they hungrily devour a bellyful of the hundreds of flying ants that swarm to the false moon. Sometimes, they’ll eat so much they fall off the wall. Can’t be good for the digestion but after a few nods of the head they scurry off happy enough. The elaborate three dimensional spider’s webs that hang from our gutters will take some of the rest. Thankfully, the spiders are of a relatively harmless variety, nothing like the armoured yellow and black monsters that infest the bushes near the rubbish pit. Although a rarity, sometimes a cricket will also pay a visit. They are smaller than those you see in Europe but their metallic chirruping, loudest at dusk, is enough to force speech up a notch or two. The noise is akin to a loud version of the background fuzz you hear with a minor bout of tinnitus, of the type you might get after a ‘Tap gig or as a result of dipping your head in a drum n bass bin. Air raids are sometimes made by flying beetles, which sound like Chinook helicopters as they whizz by your ear.
A rainforest will always throw up some jokes from evolution. For instance, there is a type of flying insect, somehow descended from the ant, which have oversized abdomens, seemingly too heavy for their slender wings to achieve anything but the shortest of flights. They zoom about randomly bashing into walls and the floor like early rocket tests. Nevertheless, the abdomens make a crunchy but evidently tasty snack for Mr Scruff. She will happily crunch these poor suckers till she’s ill. But then she’ll have a nibble on anything, even when past experience proves it to be painful. For instance, little squadrons of safari ants occasionally infest the verandah and every time she’ll bite them, and every time they bite her right back. She’ll come whining to us with one of the tenacious little suckers clamped onto her lip and squeal till we rip it out. They can draw blood on humans too but like most things 20 times smaller than you, don’t try it on without undue provocation.
One evening we came out of the house to find a beetle of the goliathus (or feckin gigantic) family harassing a frog. Although it’s pincers were the size of a finger, the dog went bounding over fully expecting either a new playmate or a little light supper. The frog made a sharp exit at this point, glad that something stupider than it was ready to take the limelight. The Scruff almost got her nose bitten off before we stopped the bout telling her that she’d won on points.
posted by Luke Chapter 1 at 10:18 am
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home