Pint-Sized Predators

Lithe and active, the black tree monitor is one of the most commonly seen monitor lizards in zoo collections.  Unlike its colossal cousin, the Komodo dragon, the black tree tops out at one meter in length - much of which is made up of tail.  In fact, this formidable little predator weighs less than a gray squirrel.  Which isn't to say that it wouldn't give the ol' college try and attempt to eat a squirrel, should they ever find themselves in close proximity.  And they aren't even the smallest of the monitors.

Many zoo visitors find themselves drawn to large carnivores.  Lions, tigers, and other great cats.  Bears.  Large crocodiles and huge constrictors.  Big sharks.  And certainly don't get me wrong - those animals are all really, really cool.  There's something fascinating about being in the company of an animal that, were it to exercise the option, could eat you.  Perhaps because of our fascination with these animals over the millennia, many of them are the species that we tend to know the most about managing in zoo settings.  

(To be fair, just because we've been keeping those animals for a long time doesn't necessarily mean that we've been keeping them well.  Any zoo past a certain age has (or had, until it was replaced) a dingy old line of cat cages, or a sullen, concrete bear pit.)  

Because of their popularity, most of us have seen these animals by an early age.  By the time I was 10, I'd already seen all of the bears and all of the big cats.

Most of these groups of apex predators also have a range of smaller cousins - just as predatory, just as deadly... albeit aimed at a smaller prey base.  A tiger can weigh several hundred pounds.  A sand cat or a black footed cat could curl up inside my lunchbox. 

In some cases, these smaller predators can be shyer, more secretive.  They aren't just predators, but are also prey for larger species.  Small cats have traditionally been considered poor exhibit animals by zoos, inclined to either hide all day in their nest boxes or, if deprived of hiding spaces, to pace frantically all day.  This is because zoos of the day tended to arrange their animals taxonomically, keeping all cats together in one building.  That little sand cat was spending all day looking across the hall into the eyes of lions, tigers, and leopards, all of which would have happily snacked on it.  You'd have developed a nervous tic too, in those cases.  When houses appropriately, they make excellent exhibit animals.

Others, and the smaller monitors fit into this category, just never seem to understand that they are... well, small, and will heroically launch themselves at you.  It's kind of cute, really.  They want so badly to eat you, but they just can't.

So pity the pint-sized predators.  It must be hard to belong to a lineage of ancient, powerful predators, revered and feared by millions... but when people look at you, all that they can say is, "Awww..."