Being paid a visit by the local blue-tongued lizard always adds a bit of simple pleasure to my day. This one has become quite the regular pleasure this summer–I have a special bread and butter dish for it that I put all my squashed cockroaches into and slide under the slightly raised concrete square potplant pot in the garden at my back door–and has grown to tolerate my persistent attempts to coax it into the ultimate close-up. I’ve found that blue-tongues aren’t very photogenic as a rule; they typically border on lifeless and flat. I’m always very careful not to startle them. Even though I know I could get a good down the throat shot if I threatened it strongly enough I would never bring myself to do it. I would never bring myself to do it because I know lizards share stuff they know and the places they’ve been with the birds, and I know just as well that the reason so many birds freely relate to my camera is because a little bird told them a lizard had told it that I’m not threatening.
It hasn’t slipped my attention that I don’t have nearly the same kind of success rate relating with people that I easily manage with birds, and the lizards. Nor has it faded from my memory that the last time I met in person with a friend from online for the first time I reacted defensively when he said that he’d noticed from my blogging that I am a nature person. One who is mostly a birdwatcher.
I think I’m on the verge of recognising that I don’t understand human language enough yet to reach out to people… no. to reach out to human people without appearing threatening. But I don’t want to admit it. I think the thing that ruins me most is that I’ve done on the interweb just about everything I wouldn’t have done if it were lizards and birds I thought I were trying to write and share images for. And the biggest thing keeping me from deleting every trace of what I’ve done on the interweb–don’t go believing everything can’t be deleted just because you’ve been told it will stay there forever (I can prove that’s not true)–is that I console myself in the knowledge that no little bird can ever gain access to this information highway… because that’s not what this is.