Was headed for bed last night when a fly, landing on a stack of unopened mail to my right, caught my attention. This fly had been hounding me all day and I was pretty done with letting it live. I contemplated getting the swatter (a beyond last resort for me as I really do try to let all things living – be.)

But as I sat there finishing a note to my son an extraordinary thing happened… a baby gecko slithered out from under the pile of mail and began stalking his prey.

My camera sits on a shelf to my left and I tried to get it, turn it on and aim it without disturbing the epic scene building beside my mousepad… but alas the fly was sensitive to my movement and took off. The gecko, however, stayed determinedly still.

The flash didn’t phase him. Perfectly still, like a stone statue the gecko sat, apparently waiting for the fly to return.

“You do realise” I chided the gecko, “this fly is bigger than all of your head and most of your torso.” The gecko cocked his head as if he understood. I continued.

“The thing is, while catching it would be admirable, getting the behemoth into your tiny mouth would be quite another feat altogether. So while I’m on your side in the endeavour, I’m not certain you’ve thought this through to the end.”

The gecko cocked his head once more as if taking hunting advice from a giant was  a daily event in his little life. But then spouse opened my office door and the gecko  scurried down the side of my desk.

Spouse, of course, wanted to know to whom I was speaking as he hadn’t heard the phone ring – and knew we didn’t have company.

“Aww” I muttered, “you scared him off.”

“I scared who off?”


“Angus who?” he asked confused.

“Angus the fly-slayer. ” I replied with a certain tone I tend to get when spouse doesn’t just ‘know’ what I’m talking about without my having to offer an explanation. A girlfriend would  jump in and catch up without needing a set of directions,  as would a daughter, mother or sister.  But – a man being good at reading a woman’s mind? I’ve never found one.

Needless to say there was a pause. After a while I gave in. “The fly that’s been bugging me all day? There’s a gecko on his tail. He was right on my desk. I’m rooting for him to catch it. He’s just a baby. And his name is Angus.”

Spouse, ignoring the legitimacy of my knowing the gecko’s name (much less that the gecko even had a name) patted me on the head and said “Well I’ll leave you to it then…” and I’m sure he said something more (and more than likely something uncomplimentary), but his voice trailed off as he left the room and I didn’t catch it all. (Which is probably for the best.)

A few minutes later as I clicked my way out of Outlook, the fly flew past my shoulder and as if on cue Angus popped his head out from underneath the pile of white envelopes.

“You are an ambitious sort” I said to the gecko, “but if you can catch that big, nasty fly – tomorrow  I will show you where a horde of tiny, delicious moths are hiding.”

And with that, I left my desk, shut the door behind me and went to bed.

This morning both annoying fly and Angus were nowhere to be seen. I hope he had a good feed and sticks around for moth season. And I hope Angus feels comfortable enough to come back for another chat or two. Would be fun watching him grow up. And if he brings his brothers and sisters around I’ll toss in a few tasty mozzies, too.