Monitoring the lizards
Monitoring the lizards
Komodo lizards may well have been the source for the myth of
Chinese dragons. Ancient seafarers heard stories of these weird
monsters even if seldom encountered.
The first description was published following a 1910 Dutch
expedition to the area which shot and skinned two beasts.
Komodo dragons (known locally as ora) are monitor lizards and
the largest left on earth. This family has members weighing just
20 grams that you'd welcome in your garden, up to the Nusa
Tenggara monsters. You'd never want to encounter these among the
flower pots; they can check in up to 150 kilograms.
The carnivorous reptiles are sun worshipers; if they get too
cold the meat in their gut starts to rot and that could be fatal.
So all that lounging has purpose. No wonder they can live for up
to 50 years.
In the past rangers would shoot a goat and bait the big beasts
so tourists would get a guaranteed sighting. This policy has now
been dropped because lazy lizards were becoming dependent on
humans for their food.
Dragon-spotters now have to peer in the branches or creep
close to their burrows. The stench of rotting flesh is usually a
good guide to a dragon's lair and a splendid reason to carry a
telephoto lens.
A nimble ranger with a stout stick to deter any grumpy old man
dragon is essential. It also helps if you can sprint faster than
10 km an hour.
On Komodo island reptile-viewing has become so organized that
some Westerners prefer the more natural situation on Rinca.
There are a few dragons left on the west coast of Flores.
Aeons ago, when the sea was much lower and they could swim short
distances between islands the dragons had a much larger range;
they may even have lived in Australia.
There are probably about 2,000 animals left in the wild.
Numbers seem to be decreasing. Apart from pressures on their
environment the creatures suffer an acute gender imbalance. For
every female there are three males which must create a lot of
domestic dragon dramas.
The females lay one clutch of about 18 eggs every year, then
hang around for a while waiting for the hatchings nine months
later. After that the little ones are on their own in the big
cruel world.
Slow or trusting dragonettes are unlikely to be snapped by
tourists. They'll be snapped up by dad, uncle, elder brother,
feral dogs or wild boars and never get a chance to feature in
anyone's photo album.
In the cauldron of Komodo, animal kin ties count for nought
and conservation is a luxury for the well-fed. The national park
may be an international treasure but these hazard isles are no
place for the sluggish creature or squeamish human.
Nonetheless, go soon: This place is special.
-- Duncan Graham