derp /dərp/: exclamation - used as a substitite for speech regarded as meaningless or stupid, or to comment on a foolish or stupid action. noun - foolishness or stupidity
- Oxford English Dictionary
I had a friend who wasn't all that into animals - except for cats. She loved cats and had several living with her. When I asked her what it was that she liked about them so much, she said it was the dichotomy. One minute each seemed like a sleek-flawless-panther-goddess, the embodiment of grace and beauty. The next, they'd be getting their heads stuck in the openings of Kleenex boxes, or scaring themselves silly by stumbling across a cucumber. At those moments, they were her lovable moron children.
Some animals are natural clowns, like primates and dogs, but some of the funniest moments with animals are the ones with animals that seem to have an inherent dignity. Penguins, for example - so upright, with stern-looking faces and plumage that seems to resemble formalwear, seeming to take themselves so seriously. It's hard not to look at penguins and find them amusing, even when they aren't doing anything inherently silly.
I often feel that way about reptiles, too.
A lot of people think of reptiles as cold, expressionless, and completely lacking in personality. I can tell from many experiences that the latter assumption is wrong - many of the reptiles I've cared for, either at the zoo or home as pets, have had tons of personality. It wasn't always great personality, sure, but it was there nonetheless. True, reptiles lack facial expressions, excepting for a threat gap. They can convey their moods with other body language, such as a rising tension or a quizzical turn of the head, but there are limitations. Perhaps because they can't change their faces, and as a result always look serious, it makes it all the funnier when they are engaged in a little silliness.
Sometimes the silliness is intentional. Monitor lizards are generally held to be the smartest of lizards, and whenever they can be convinced to take a break from their primary obsession of finding food, they can be playful. I've heard a colleague describe to me watching a Komodo dragon get a hold of a shovel that someone left in his enclosure, then play with it for an hour. The dragon knew what a shovel was, and more importantly what it wasn't (edible... even by Komodo standards). There was no object to its constant interaction with the object other than mental stimulation - play.
Sometimes the silliness is inadvertent. When I was younger, I had a pet bearded dragon named Isaac. Crickets were a major part of Isaac's diet, which he tracked down and devoured ruthlessly... except every once in a while, when a single cricket would be leftover after he'd eaten his fill, then he'd leave it. On those occasions, I'd sometimes come by and see Isaac with a cricket perched delicately on top of his head like a little living hat. It never failed to crack me up. I don't think Isaac was being whimsical, or playing with his food - he didn't put it there, after all, and he always ate the cricket eventually. It was just his usual stern, disapproving visage looked so ridiculous with a cricket standing on his forehead.
A lot of people find reptiles scary, and, to be fair, when you are being chased from an enclosure by an irate crocodile, or round a bend in a trail and find a black mamba glaring at you, yes, they can be. They can also make us laugh, however, intentional or not... and, I find, being able to laugh at something is a good first step towards learning how to care about it.
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