Okay, okay… My photo caption is entirely misleading (and not even that good, to boot, considering how obvious… I guess The (Maui) Onion must wait until I grow a brain). This gecko did indeed fly, though not of his own volition.
As with many of his brethren before him, who somehow stay affixed to my car during my morning commute–from the hills of Ha’iku, down through Maliko Gulch and past Ho’okipa–he kept hidden for awhile until finally making his scared-sticky, bug-eyed debut on my hood; then onto my windshield (where he rode for a moment before getting wind-whipped away) when we hit Hana Highway.
Every time one of these (not so) lucky little lizards pops its head out from under the hood, after having survived the Ha’iku to Pa’ia haul, I am always filled with dismay–knowing the inevitable doom to come.
In attempt to circumvent–on the rare occasion I am not pressed for time–before departing, I’ll bang my hood like a crazy person (I’m sure my landlords enjoy that morning wake-up), trying to alert any lingering critters that it’s high time to abandon-Toyo.
[He’s going, going gone… Clinging for a impressively long time through winding Maui roadways, the wind became too much when we hit the straight-away stretch]
Tragedy seems to befall the poor gecko so often, and I run into their pitiful corpses quite regularly.
Observing the aftermath of several freak accidents (that I wish I caught on camera)–like a loose gutter falling in such a way that it chopped, clean in-half, the poor gecko who had been chilling on the gutter’s underside, or the stretched skeleton of another, caught in the upturned peel of a “Live Animal” sticker on a shipping crate, or those (several) who are caught so precisely in between the edge of the door and the inside of the frame, they are squashed-flat in mid-stride, or… (I could go on)–has long inspired me to start a macabre collection of photos, the lizards lying in state (maybe draw little chalk outlines when I feel so inclined, have the time… and the chalk).
Though I’ll often mention my idea to people (I imagine, eventually, a coffee-table book reminiscent of Wisconsin Death Trip, and instead with Art-Gecko styling), I’ve never so much as attempted to begin (mostly because of not having had, until recently, a camera–other than my old 35mm–handy)
The office building that MTW calls home was subject to a weekend’s worth of bug bombing, and while I feel just a little sympathy for the la cucaracha that litter the ground, their antennae kinked from the eagerly-returning foot-traffic, I encountered two poor, dead dudes on the stairwell, and decided it’s due time to begin my collection of geckobituaries.