Boring story about catching a Bearded Dragon

This is by way of a continuation of my post under Bundii's magpie thread.

Once we had Mr Magpie safely installed in a chaff bag in the back of the car, Mum and I drove on down the country lane. I was in the process of collecting wildflowers and invertebrates for Botany 200 and Zoology 250 respectively, so we were equipped with various bottles, jars, paper bags and a butterfly net.

We hadn't been driving long when I spied another amazing thing on the side of the road. A rather large Bearded Dragon lizard had crawled to the top of a fencepost and conveniently died there! Flies were buzzing all around his cadaver and I thought to myself that his skeleton would make a marvellous specimen for my Zoology major work that term.

"Sto-o-oop, Mum", I squawked!

Mum stomped on the brake and I nearly flew through the windshield to meet Mr Lizard (RIP) on his fencepost. I marched right up and seized him just behind his forelegs, hoping against hope that decomposition wasn't so bad that his skeleton would fall apart in my hand. The attending flies set up an angry buzzing, but that wasn't what caught my immediate attention...

You can imagine my acute chagrin as I realised that not only was Mr Lizard quite alive and well, but he was also quite p***** off! He shot out his submandibular 'beard', sucked in a bellyful of air and hissed at me like a dyspeptic kettle! All I could do was hang on to the beast, because I believed he would eat me if I set him down again. There was nothing for it but to carry the thing home and hope for a solution there. With Great Misgiving, my poor little Mum was forced to drive home with me sitting beside her clutching an irascible reptile who periodically writhed and hissed and basically gave us his basilisk-like evil eye!

I digress to say these guys aren't so very big: this one was only about two feet long. They can, however, give you a really septic bite because they feed on carrion and therefore harbour unspeakable bacteria in their mouths. Not only that, but the claws are pretty formidable as well: easily half-an-inch long and five of them on each lizardly little footsie!

Once home, I gratefully put the squirming animal into our pink bathtub for a nice rest while I rang some of my Sources. All Australian reptiles are protected, so it would have been illegal (and immoral) of me to kill Mr Lizard as a specimen. Somehow, I had to find a way to repatriate him somewhere safe. In the meanwhile, Mr Lizard had retreated to the far end of the bathtub right up under the tap. I was very interested to note that he quickly changed colour from chocolate brown to beige in an attempt to match his environment. This worked very well for him but not so well for others...

Hours later, my Dad came home from work. Tired and messy (he was a butcher), Dad headed straight for the bathroom and a restorative soak in the tub. As usual, he stood under the shower nozzle to wash off the grime before drawing a bath. Not quite as usual, an enraged lizard ran up his leg, eyeballed him angrily and hurtled off again to hiss indignantly at my father's retreating bottom.

This was the first (and only) time in my life I ever saw my father naked. It was not a pretty sight, mostly owing to the purple hue of his face as he squealed at me.

"Why, Patricia? Why is there a bloody crocodile in my bathtub? A man can't turn round in this house any more! You've got me in fear of my life!"

... and he went off muttering something about other men's daughters and dolls.

Eventually, I released Mr Lizard back into the wild and his release was also something of a fraught moment. But that's another boring story.

Trish, I don't think you could possibly write a boring story, even if you tried. Thanks for the laugh, the visuals were hilarious. I'm glad Mr. Dragon was successfully released after terrifying your poor dad. Now please excuse me while I clean the coffee off my screen.

Boring???...are you kidding???...that was GREAT!!!:32:

I love bearded dragons! I had them years ago and after I got rid of my last one I kept the cage just in case... Hubby just asked the other day if I wanted to get rid of the cage and I said not yet...just in case our granddaughter ever wants a bearded dragon.

LMAO! That story is hilarious! Beardies are awesome!

I laughed so loud, hubby had to come read the story to know what was so funny

A great story! If the release was a fraught moment, would love to hear the ending when you have time! Doesn't sound as if it will be boring!!

Love the story! It doesn't sound like a boring time at all to me and you have such a great style of writing. I'm just so happy that Mr. Beardie was alive and well and got to return to nature where he belonged They are awesome lizards, though I could imagine quite intimidating when wild. They aren't exactly small and have sharp teeth! And I feel the need to remind you, all these great stories you tell and you're just killing us with a lack of photos!!!

Here in the US beardies are fairly common as pets, and actually recommended as "beginner" reptiles since they are very docile when used to humans. My female Tiffany was just over 2' from head to tail (and rather robust!). Very interesting to hear they eat carrion in the wild. Tiff always ate crickets, various worms, produce chop mixes and the occasional baby mouse. She was tame of course, and was an absolute sweetheart who liked to hang out on my shoulder and take naps whilst curled up around my neck. She was harnessed trained and I also used to take her out in one of those "purses" for small dogs She passed away of a inoperable spinal tumor several years ago, and I miss her so very much I used to have a pic of her in her harness on my shoulder, but I don't know what happened to it. This was her climbing out of her "pimped out" beardie carrier


And PLEASE if you see her wild cousins again, take some pics for me I adore beardies!

This was Otis, when he was a baby

April, I'm so sorry to hear you lost your darling Tiffany! That must've been so hard!

I'm afraid I have no photos of my adventures with Mr Bearded Dragon on account of it happened 'way back in my undergrad days when taking photos was Expensive! I can tell you that the paddock where we kept our horses was absolutely chockas (Australian for 'full') with them! They would spend the early mornings clinging to the trunks of the casuarina trees that grew scattered through the creeklands. By mid-morning, it was Work Time and so hordes of the little dears would be seen scurrying through the grasses hawking out (as you say) crickets and grasshoppers and other small creatures. Of course, if a dead cow or rabbit were about, they had no trouble at all dipping in! Once, we counted more than thirty of them all circling around a dead calf and hopping in for the odd mouthful. The great big Lace Monitor owned the show, though. I wouldn't cross him if I were a Bearded Dragon! Mr LM was about five foot long and I reckon would've weighed about eighty or ninety pounds.

What made us nervous about the BDs, though, was their little tendency to run at you when they were frightened, rather than running away. I was always worried one would run up my leg and bite me on the face. LOL! Of course, once you've got hold of him, you only need to worry about the claws, which are pretty scary when the lizard is mad. Sigh. I miss those long-ago days. It seemed something amazing was always happening, usually involving something dreadful and usually causing grief to my sister.

Boring?! Are you kidding? I loved the story, and must tell you that your Mom is the greatest ever!

(wiping tears from face from laughing so hard)

Trish, what a FABULOUS and HILARIOUS story!!! I could visualize everything - to the last detail.

Trish, if you have the time, please, please, add another story to this thread. I know you have many more. Possibly an encounter with the previously mentioned Mr. LM.

Trish, you could not tell a boring story if your life depended on it! I am cracking up at the thought of your poor Dad...please keep the stories coming!!!

I'm glad you've all enjoyed reading of my fieldwork adventures! LOL!

It finally occurred to me the Releasing story actually pertained to a different Bearded Dragon, but I won't let that get in the way of posting it.

The BD in question had come up our street from the paddock a mere hundred yards from our front door. Kids were poking sticks at it in the gutter and I rushed out and told them it had rabies (which doesn't occur in Australia, but they didn't know that). Once the kids had nicked off, Matt (my son) and I were able to manoeuvre Mr BD into a chaff bag by dint of encouraging him therein with a broomystick. So far so good. Next, I called upon Kim (my hubby) to drive me down to the paddock so I could let Mr BD go back into the bosom of his family. After a bit of grumbling at being pulled away from the Saturday Rugby League on TV, we drove the short distance with Mr BD residing happily at the bottom of his hessian sack.

Leaving my Hunn waiting in the car (he's not that fond of livestock), I plodded all the way down to the creek to release the lizard in the most salubrious of surroundings. Not realising the significance of the feed bag I was carrying, I wondered idly why all the forty-three horses who lived in the paddock were suddenly gravitating toward me... They were following faithfully behind me in a ragged single file!

"How sweet!" I thought to myself: "They love me..."

Mr BD was by now getting a bit anxious and was writhing about in his bag. I reached in, but he utterly refused to let go! His long claws were clutched about the hessian and he looked at me most balefully as I tried to prise them loose. Suddenly, an idea occurred to me! I swiftly turned the bag inside out so that Mr BD was now on the outside of it and my hand within. I swung the bag, lizard and all, around my head a couple of times, dislodging the incumbent lodger and Mr BD described a perfectly parabolic arc as he travelled gracefully to the other side of the creek. This suited me nicely, as I wasn't fond of the idea of Mr BD shinning up me leg upon his release.

Turning to retrace my steps, I heard a loud nicker (whooffly sound a horse makes). I noted that I was still playing follow-the-leader to the ragged crew of horses and ponies. Laughing uproariously, I began waving at Kim to make him see this funny phenomenon

'Zzzzzzzzzzz!' said my Hunn. The sod was fast asleep!!!

Marching purposefully onward, I turned periodically to see my followers faithfully bringing up my rear. Giggling to myself, I happened to notice Fred and a few of his wives were also approaching along the fence line which was parallel to my path.

Digression: Fred was a Red Devon Bull. A giant of his race, proud progenitor of many potential beefsteaks and Lord of All in our paddock, he also had a deep and abiding hatred of all things human. He had once besieged my brother-in-law in the cattle truck by humping his back under the tailgate and rocking the truck in order to shake Warren out and, presumably, eat him! When he was just a calf, Fred once lined up Warren's stooping bottom with unnerring accuracy and butted him through a five-strand barbed-wire fence just for kix! Anyway, believe me when I say that Fred's reputation as a danger to humankind was not unfounded.

Here was I, headed on a collision course for The Great Beast himself and the sycophantic wives for good measure! As if to corroborate my fear, one sycophantic Wife fluttered her long eyelashes at me seductively and went 'Moo!' in a noncommittal sort of way. I nearly died! Then I realised sickly that the gate into Fred's paddock was wide open! Fred had access to me!

As I sadly wondered about the future of my poor, orphaned children or perhaps the prospect of life in a permanent plaster cast, I began waving at Kim in earnest. Screaming like a mad thing, I simply couldn't wake Old Dozo, and here I was, not fifty yards away from safety. I quickened my pace; so did Fred. His dewlap began to swing faster as he broke into a laid-back trot. As if to support the Ferocious Fred, all forty-three horses behind me sped up in sympathy. It wasn't until much, much later that I imagined what this spectacle must have looked like to anyone passing by on the road. I reckon it must've resembled a Busby Berkeley musical choreographed for horses and cattle! LOL!

As I tried to gauge the distance to the outside gate, the speed at which I thought I could run, the force of the prevailing wind and the state of Fred's murderous mind, it suddenly came to me: Fred wanted the feed bag!!! They all wanted the feed bag. It looked exactly like the bags that brought Breakfast every single morning and here was I, marching along and brandishing what everyone thought was an à la carte meal! Fred, the stupid great lummox, thought there was tucker in the bag and as the idea was slowly forming in my mind, he made the inimitable noise that bulls make and roared at me.

That was all the impetus I needed! I dropped the feed bag and belted across the paddock with Fred Flintstone legs. Having reached the gate, I didn't stop to open it, but rather dove between the bars, sucking in my breath as I flew and then rolled into a ball on the safe side of the gate! Dusting off and looking back toward Fred, I was relieved to see the Great Bull killing the feed bag to death as Sycophantic Wife looked on benignly. Fred had that bag in his teeth and was ripping it to bits with his hooves! Uttering a Hail Mary of Gratitude, I briefly imagined myself where that feed bag was and then proceeded to have an important word with my Hunn about the serious error of sleeping while our Wife is in peril...

PS The lizard was fine - ran happily up a tree!
PPS Poor old Fred eventually made his way to the butcher's. His personality disorder got worse and worse until he was just too dangerous to keep. Fred's son, Gary, inherited his father's crown, but sadly Gary never did have the same câchet as his Dad.

Trish, you are a gifted storyteller, my friend, thank you for entertaining us, yet again! I'm glad you sacrificed the feed bag and ran for your life when you did. So happy everyone survived the strange encounter, including your Hunny. I can't believe he slept through the near stampede, or possible collision.

Gifted storyteller indeed! :jumping40

Trish, I'm late to this party but I very much enjoyed both of your stories! Your tales are always a delight and your talent for telling them a wonderful gift. Thank you for sharing another glimpse into your fascinating world, and don't hesitate to regale us with more of your "boring" stories. You never disappoint, my friend.

I so wish I could see beardies every day (even if they weren't friendly). You're lucky to live in a place with such wonderful biodiversity! I found that pic of Tiffany too. You sure you don't want a wild one this big up on your shoulder

I just read the original post and laughed and laughed and laughed. My dad had similar feelings about our critters but was less permissive

Aaawwww... what a lovely picture! I'm so sorry poor Tiffany passed on - she was a real beauty (and so is her Mum). Compared to the Beardies in our paddock, Tiffany looks... graceful... willowy... fairy-like. The wild ones are much more heavily built, even the girls. Their limbs are hefty and strong and the tails actually hurt when they whip around and hit you. It's quite hard to hold one that doesn't want to be held because their bodies are so muscular and strong (you'd know that, of course). Still, they have that certain je ne sais quoi, don't they? They're such an attractive animal and no two seem to have the same pattern of scales, I've noticed.

Other nice lizards of ours include the Blue Tongue (Tiliqua scincoides); the Shingleback (Trachydosaurus rugosus) and the Eastern Water Dragon (Physiognathus lesuerii). They're all pretty easy to keep and will grow to a respectable size (15" to 2 feet). Probably our sexiest lizards are the monitors, which can grow pretty big. The Perentie (Varanus giganteus) is the biggest monitor lizard after the Komodo Dragon of Indonesia. The Lace Monitor (V. varius) is next after that. I've seen a specimen about six feet long and he was pretty fearsome-looking!

Once, we were on a picnic with friends and a pair of smallish Lace Monitors (only about three foot) came up to our barbecue and waited for meat scraps. After we'd finished eating, they came back again to check for leftovers. Since there weren't any, we all continued playing cards. Imagine everyone's astonishment when the LMs climbed into my friend's backpack to make sure she wasn't concealing anything edible in there! When they'd finished looking, they up-periscoped from the bag and then sprinted neatly up the nearest tree. The forest rang with our laughter! LOLOLOLOL!