The Not Okay Tokay

I ran the Charm City Reptile and Amphibian Rescue for 14 years (no longer in operation). 

A volunteer, Dan, brought his wife, Susan, on a Sunday when we were cleaning cages. Susan worked at a photo developing place and fancied herself a photographer. She would take photos of the animals as we took them out of their enclosures during cage-cleaning.

Susan would photograph each animal as her husband held it. Everything was progressing smoothly. Hopefully, I was going to end up with some good photos in the end. This was back in the days of actual paper photographs; Susan wasn’t using a digital camera.

It was all going fine until we got to the tokay’s cage. Tokay geckos are not known for being sweet and do not enjoy being held. The one I had was no exception. Usually, when cleaning that cage, the tokay went into its hiding place and stayed there until the cleaning was done. We didn’t normally remove it from the enclosure.

I heard a loud, “OUCH!” from Dan while I was in the iguana room, cleaning. I quickly finished what I was doing, washed my hands and returned to the snake room.

“What’s going on?” While asking the question, I could see what was happening. The tokay had latched onto Dan’s hand with his tiny razor-blade teeth and was not about to let go.

“Okay, let’s think about how to get him off of you.” I said, shaking my head. “Why did you take him out of the cage?”

“Oh, Honey!” exclaimed Susan.

“He’s so cool. I wanted to get a good photo of him,” said Dan, realizing his mistake.

We tried gently coaxing the tokay to let go with a rubber tool. 

“OWWWW,” said Dan.

“Oh, Honey,” said Susan.

I know they can hold their breath, but they don’t really like being underwater. We got a small plastic cage and filled it with water. Dan plunged his hand in the cold water.

“OW,” said Dan. “It’s biting down harder!”

“Oh, Honey,” repeated Susan.

“OW,” Dan cried every time he moved his hand.

And, “Oh, Honey,” she would once again say.

“Oh for G-d’s sake,” I said under my breath. Susan was starting to get on my nerves. I felt like asking her to go downstairs and wait until we got this tokay off Dan’s hand.

After 20 minutes, we gave up on the cold water. How long can they hold their breath!? Was Dan going to live with a tokay attached to his hand?

I called a lizard-breeder friend who suggested using a spray bottle and spritzing the creature with vodka. It won’t like the alcohol and would let go.

I spritzed.

“OWWWWWW,” said Dan. The tokay briefly released its grip and re-bit Dan.

“OWWWWWWW!!”

“Oh, Honey,” said Susan for the umpteenth time. I was about to spritz her with vodka!

By this time, the little trickle of blood that was originally on Dan’s hand had been washed away by the water. Of course, the blood came back as the tokay chomped into Dan’s hand for the second time.

This whole situation was not good. I had potential reptile adopters coming soon. We needed to get this lizard off of Dan’s hand. I needed cages cleaned, not volunteers laughing at Dan’s predicament and standing around doing nothing.

Thinking to myself, I pondered, what do tokays really like? They are nocturnal and like a dark and quiet environment. 

“I’ve got it!” I said. “Take the gecko, the plastic aquarium and go to the powder room. Turn off the lights and sit in there until that thing lets go of you. Don’t come out until it’s in the aquarium and your hand is out.”

Dan went into the powder room as directed. With no windows, it was the darkest room in the house.

Five minutes later, out came Dan with the tokay in the little plastic aquarium.

A little soap and water were all that was needed to clean Dan’s hand.

I did get some decent photos, but I’m not sure Dan thought they were worth the trouble. That was the last time Susan came to visit.

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Read more by Holli Friedland.