According to enough Internet sites that I am confident that I am not deceived by a renegade Internet editor, in Hawaii the residents believe that the "household gecko" brings good luck to the home. If that is correct, The Memsahib and I are blessed several times over.
When darkness falls, one, two, or three geckos – interestingly, never more than three – crawl out onto the underside of the eave that extends over our patio. When I turn on the patio light, they're exposed and usually will hang around for awhile before they scurry – actually, more of a serpentine waddle – into the cracks where the eave meets the brick. I read that they're looking for insects. I've never seen one other insect within gobbling distance of one of these guys on the barren ceiling, but there they were, night after night.
Last night, for the first time, there were four:
They appear to be Mediterranean House Geckos, one of two species found in Texas that tend to make their homes in, well, homes. I was delighted at first, but that fourth gecko . . . obviously, I was dealing here with more than a happy household of mama, papa, and baby gecko.
In fact, they're prolific little reptiles.
Which inspired a vision of a growing, then teeming, colony of concupiscent little geckos with nothing better to do during the day than make lots more geckos.
When I was a lad, I was deeply influenced by the growing menace represented by the increasing number of "The Birds" in Hitchcock's classic. Then, suddenly, I saw it. I would be out on the patio, chewing on a stogie and reading a cheap mystery on my Nook. A creak – a crack. And the eave would open up and an avalanche of geckos, accompanied by untold tons of gecko poop would rain down on me.
But they are cute little fellas.
Wish me luck.