I’m a thorough townie, with the fear of lizards and all other creepy-crawlies instilled in me from birth by my family. As an only child, I grew up with a succession of pets like budgies, turtles, chickens and even the occasional worm. But all that changed when I went to study in New Zealand. I visited the local zoo where I was introduced to Daniel, a blue-tongued skink, a placid, curious and fantastic ambassador for his kind. The zookeeper allowed me to touch him and said that blueys made wonderful pets.

On a whim, I searched the internet for baby skinks for adoption. Fortuitously, an enterprising 14-year-old breeder had a new litter. With my best friend’s encouragement and some quick research, we picked up a fish tank, an ultraviolet lamp and a heat lamp and drove for two hours to the southern Kapiti coast near Wellington home to native birds and skinks. I fell hook, line and sinker for this strange, prehistoric solitary creature. She was not bred to please me, look cute or guard my house. Being naturally averse to needy types, I was instinctively drawn towards an animal that had a sense of dignity. On a more practical note, a skink was vastly easier to hide from the landlord than say, a dog!





Living with Kaa that’s what I named her after my favourite character in The Jungle Book was a real education. Learning to clip her delicate nails, bribing friends to feed her live bugs and making sure she was kept warm and healthy with an artificial light, was an exciting experience. A skink is neither a snake nor a salamander nor a lizard, though it does look like a snake with four pudgy legs.

Kaa and Neha (inset)
Kaa and Neha (inset)

They are not poisonous but look like they are. Calling a predator’s bluff is their chief defense mechanism. To do so, they puff themselves to nearly double their size, open their bright pink mouths wide and flip out a large blueberry-hued tongue. Quite a terrifying sight. Kaa has done this twice as a baby once to a car and at another time to a particularly irritating child! Skinks are generally omnivorous, enjoying a varied diet of leafy greens, berries, squash and slow-moving bugs and insects. But perhaps because I’m a vegan, Kaa’s taken after me! If I try to feed her bugs, she gives them an indifferent lick and leaves them alone. She refuses to eat anything but a mix of pureed pumpkin, squash and Kumara (a baby food blend). If I try to change her diet she throws the mother of all tantrums and starves herself!

Her species is unique, evolving in its own peculiar manner. For instance, while Kaa no longer has the need for a third eye (to sense avian threats) she still retains a scar on top of her head. Unlike lizards, blueys give birth to miniature replicas of themselves. But unlike mammals, they don’t feed their young, who go their separate way after birth.



I’ve hidden Kaa snugly under my jacket and taken her for bus rides. She’s a hit every Christmas Eve when I take her to work. She spends the day investigating people’s desks,

travelling on shoulders and pooping during meetings! I’ve had accidents like when she peed all over the cauliflowers in the farmers’ market because the vendor had wanted to cuddle her. Once, she lunged into my bowl of ice-cream and tequila and gobbled up quite a lot. Apparently, it hadn’t registered with her that dairy is bad for reptiles. Being female, she likes to stare at her reflection on shiny metallic toasters and kettles. She will also try to eat your buttons if you’re not careful! Thankfully, skinks enjoy a good reputation in this part of the world. So when I push off on holidays I have friends who readily take care of her.

Her communication skills are quite decent. She will scratch at the walls of her tank if she wants to be let out. Or look at her food bowl sorrowfully if she’s hungry. She will huff and wriggle in protest if she doesn’t like something like bath time. Sometimes she insidiously pushes me off the couch with her taut, muscular body to occupy the warmed-up human spot.

I’ve had Kaa for 10 years. Skinks in captivity can live up to 30 years. But I feel guilty because in the wild she’d have travelled through 20 or more backyards, experimenting with nature and fulfilling her curiosity. But she was bred and raised in captivity, just so that someone like me could enjoy an exotic pet. I’ve confined her in a small space and curbed her natural instincts. Also, I’ve no idea if Kaa is really female, she/he just looks like one!