GECKO AND CHAMELEON.
When the Chameleon wished to pass from one branch to another, it used to hold firmly to the branch by the tail and one hind-foot, and stretch out its body nearly horizontally, feeling about with the other three feet, as if in search of a convenient resting-place. In this curious attitude it would remain for a considerable time, apparently suffering no inconvenience, though even the spider-monkey would have been unable to maintain such an attitude for half the length of time.
The strength of the grasp is really astonishing when contrasted with the size of the reptile, as any one will find who allows the Chameleon to grasp his finger, or who tries to detach it from the branch to which it is clinging. The feet are most curiously made. They are furnished with five toes, which are arranged like those of parrots and other climbing birds, so as to close upon each other like the thumb and finger of a human hand. They are armed with little yellow claws, slightly curved and very sharp, and when they grasp the skin of the hand they give it an unpleasantly sharp pinch.
The tail is as prehensile as that of the spider-monkey, to which the Chameleon bears a curious resemblance in some of its attitudes, though nothing can be more different than the volatile, inquisitive, restless disposition of the spider-monkey and the staid, sober demeanour of the Chameleon. The reptile has the power of guiding the tail to any object as correctly as if there were an eye at the end of the tail. When it has been travelling over the branches of trees, I have often seen it direct its tail to a projecting bud, and grasp it as firmly as if the bud had been before and not behind it.
Sometimes, when it rests on a branch, it allows the tail to hang down as a sort of balance, the tip coiling and uncoiling unceasingly. But, as soon as the reptile wishes to move, the tail is tightened to the branch, and at once coiled round it. There really seems to be almost a separate vitality and consciousness on the part of the tail, which glides round an object as if it were acting with entire independence of its owner.
On the ground the Chameleon fares but poorly. Its walk is absolutely ludicrous, and an experienced person might easily fail to identify a Chameleon when walking with the same animal on a branch. It certainly scrambles along at a tolerable rate, but it is absurdly awkward, its legs sprawling widely on either side, and its feet grasping futilely at every step. The tail, which is usually so lithe and nimble, is then held stiffly from the body, with a slight curve upwards.
The eyes are strange objects, projecting far from the head, and each acting quite independently of the other, so that one eye may often be directed forwards, and the other backwards. The eyeballs are covered with a thick wrinkled skin, except a small aperture at the tip, which can be opened and closed like our own eyelids.