Summer Salamander

Glacier National Park, Montana, July 1970. It's easy to spot Salamander Glacier.

(Here, the salamander is a backdrop for the gecko.)

"Krokodilo Ašaros"

Crocodile tears:

The truth is that crocodiles do not cry because they do not have the lachrymal ducts. The lachrymal ducts are unnecessary for them because they spend most of their time in water. The crocodile’s lachrymal glands produce the secretion that only moisten the eyes when an animal is out of water.

When crocodiles swallow large chunks of meat, their eyes water and it seems that they are crying. Since ancient times, people used to say that crocodiles mourned for their victims in such a way. However, crocodiles are crying because they are swallowing bigger bite than it fits in his mouth from the greed. The crocodiles’ lachrymal glands are close to the throat. Since crocodiles tear off large chunks and swallow it whole, the large chunks push against the lachrymal glands, forcing tears to their eyes in great amount.

It is believed that Roman historian Pliny was the first to explain this idiom in his work Historia Naturalis. Since than, the idiom “crocodile tears” has become the symbol of the insincerity and the fake regret[.]

 (Here's the article in Lithuanian.)

The Snail Collection

acquired Gigi. The hamsters were around by the time I arrived, and for a time we kept an undomesticated rabbit. I even remember that caiman.

 

A neighborhood kid gave me some snails when I was in the fourth or fifth grade. The snails multiplied rapidly. I housed the snails in jars lined up on the Rec Room bookshelves. When my fifth-grade teacher—an interesting woman from Argentina—crafted a "science-fair" assignment, I used the snail collection as the inspiration for my project.

Suburban Chicago, April 1969. Check out the snail "Nursery."

Would you like to see my turtle?

Lac du Flambeau, Wisconsin, July 1962. I don't remember this boy that I must have met during our vacation. He seemed more interesting to me than the turtle in his hand.

"Krokodilas"

Here's a crocodile snow sculpture. Click on the photos to enlarge—I love the one of the doggie sitting next to the 16-meter beast.

"Furtivo"

He's a snake on a plane.

An Earlier Science Fair

Suburban Chicago, Spring 1971. It looks like I am getting ready for one of my first Science Fairs. I don't remember how this ended for the caiman.

Oh my.

Here's one of the snapshots my Dad chose to paste into the "little Irene" photo album. He decided I would appreciate this alligatorscape.

Dad knew I had some unusual, non-girly hobbies. He also was sure that I liked reptiles.

Brookfield Zoo, Illinois, 1962. My Dad and I visit the alligator exhibit.

Wildlife

This is a juvenile caiman. For a short time, it lived in our bathtub.

My Dad occasionally rescued animals from his place of work (a 1960s lab). A few of them became pets. This may be how we got started with hamsters. Dad talked for a short while about bringing home a monkey, but that idea dissolved.

There were lines about which pets were okay, and which were not. We could have hamsters, but there was a ban on guinea pigs. Fish were permitted, but snails were prohibited. We held onto this caiman for a short time, but my Parents feared turtles because they can carry salmonella. For a few months, we had a wild rabbit—an animal that bit and couldn't be housetrained—but a cat could not cross the threshold. Complicated.

I think Dad turned the caiman over to a zoo after a while. I guarantee that it did not get released into the nearby Des Plaines River.

Suburban Chicago, 1963. Dad placed a plywood ledge in the tub so the caiman could look around.