The large Water-lizards (Hydrosauri) frequent the low river banks or the margins of springs, and although they may be seen basking on rocks or on the dead trunk of some prostrate tree in the heat of the sun, yet they appear more partial to the damp weeds and undergrowth in the neighbourhood of water. Their gait has somewhat more of the awkward lateral motion of the crocodile than of the lively action of the smaller saurians. When attacked, they lash violently with their tail, swaying it sideways with great force like the cayman. These modern types of the Ichthyosaurus have a graceful habit of extending the neck, and raising the head to look about them, and as you follow them leisurely over the rocks, or through the jungle, they frequently stop, turn their heads round, and take a deliberate survey of the intruder. They are by no means vicious, though they bite severely when provoked, acting, however, always on the defensive. On examining their stomachs, crabs, locusts, beetles, the remains of jumping fish, the scales of snakes, and bones of frogs and other small animals are discovered. Like that of the Iguanas, their flesh is delicate eating, resembling that of a very young sucking-pig. Mr. Adams gives us an amusing description of his contests with a gigantic Water-lizard (Hydrosaura giganteus): ‘Throwing myself on him, I wounded him with a clasp knife in the tail, but he managed to elude my grasp, and made for the woods. I succeeded, however, in tracking his retreating form, on hands and knees, through a low covered labyrinth in the dense undergrowth, until I saw him extended on a log; when, leaving the jungle, I called my servant, a marine, who was shooting specimens for me, and pointing out the couchant animal, desired him to shoot him in the neck, as I did not wish the head to be injured, which he accordingly did. Entering the jungle, I then closed with the wounded saurian, and seizing him by the throat, bore him in triumph to our quarters. Here he soon recovered; and hoping to preserve him alive to study his habits, I placed him in a Malay wicker hen-coop. As we were sitting, however, at dinner, the black cook, with great alarm depicted in his features, reported that ‘Alligator got out his cage!’ Seizing the carving knife, I rushed down, and was just in time to cut off his retreat into the adjoining swamp. Turning sharply round, he made a snap at my leg, and received in return a ‘Rowland for his Oliver’ in the shape of an inch or so of cold steel. After wrestling on the ground, and struggling through the deserted fire of our sable cook, I at length secured the runaway, tied him up to a post, and to prevent further mischief, ended his career by dividing the jugular. The length of this lizard from actual measurement was five feet ten inches and a half.’
These semi-aquatic, dingy-hued saurians are admirably adapted to the hot moist swamps and shallow lagoons that fringe the rivers of the tropical alluvial plains. As we watch their dark forms, plunging and wallowing in the water, or sluggishly moving over the soft and slimy mud, the imagination is carried back to the age of reptiles, when the muddy shores of the primæval ocean swarmed with their uncouth forms. The huge lizard, six or seven feet long, to which divine honours are paid at Bonny on the coast of Guinea, belongs most likely to this amphibious class. Undisturbed, the lazy monsters crawl heavily through the streets, and as they pass, the negroes reverentially make way. A white man is hardly allowed to look at them, and hurried as fast as possible out of their presence. An attempt was once made to kidnap one of these dull lizard-gods for the benefit of a profane museum, but the consequences were such as to prevent a repetition of the offence, for all trade and intercourse with the ships in harbour was immediately stopped, and affairs assumed so hostile an aspect, that the foreigners were but too glad to purchase peace with a considerable sacrifice of money and goods. When one of these lizards crawls into a house, it is considered a great piece of good fortune; and when it chooses to take a bath, the Bonnians hurry after it in their canoes. After having allowed it to swim a stretch, and to plunge several times, they seize it for fear of danger, and carry it back again to the land, well pleased at once more having the sacred reptile in their safe possession.
The formidable name of Flying Dragons has been given to a genus of small lizards, remarkable for the expansible cutaneous processes with which the sides are furnished, and by whose means they are enabled to spring with more facility from branch to branch, and even to support themselves for some time in the air, like the bat or flying-squirrel. The tiny painted Dragon of the East, the Flying Lizard of the woods, is fond of clinging with its wings to the smooth trunks of trees, and there remaining immovable, basking in the sun. When disturbed, it leaps and shuffles away in an awkward manner. One Mr. Adams had in his possession, reminded him of a bat when placed on the ground. Sometimes the strange creature would feign death, and remain perfectly motionless, drooping its head, and doubling its limbs, until it fancied the danger over, then cautiously raising its crouching form, it would look stealthily around, and be off in a moment. The dragon consumes flies in a slow and deliberate manner, swallowing them gradually; its various species belong exclusively to India and the islands of the Eastern Archipelago.
FLYING DRAGON.
Who has not heard of the fatal glance of the basilisk, which, according to poetical fancy, obliged all other poisonous animals to keep at a respectful distance
‘from monster more abhorr’d than they’?
The truth is, that the ugly lizards that bear this dreaded name, which has been given them from the fanciful resemblance of their pointed occipital crest to a regal crown, are quite as harmless and inoffensive as the flying dragon. They are chiefly inhabitants of South America, where they generally lead a sylvian life, feeding on insects.
BASILISK.