153 
LIZARDS AND SNAKES IN TASMANIA. 
E are rich in lizards here; they abound everywhere, 
sunning themselves on the tree-trunks, crawling over 
the stumps, running about the garden and occasionally 
investigating domestic affairs in the house. They are 
mostly quick, lively little fellows with brown skins diversified 
with black, and eyes as bright as diamonds. 
Then there are the “ blood-suckers,” ashy-grey lizards with 
irregular black markings upon the back, and covered with spiny 
projections ; most people are rather afraid of them, and they do 
look very ferocious when annoyed, for they open their mouths 
with a gape like a crocodile, as if it would give them great 
pleasure to swallow us whole. 
The “death-adder” is another lizard that grows to a good 
size, and is very prettily marked ; they are much dreaded in the 
bush for their supposed poisonous properties, and the most 
dreadful tales are told of their envenomed attacks. Probably 
the idea has arisen through the snake-like appearance of these 
saurians as they glide through the herbage, their bodies being 
very long and slender, and the legs comparatively short. 
The largest of all our lizards, however, is the “ blue-tongued,” 
a stout, formidable-looking fellow, clad in a yellow and black 
suit of plate-armour, and much given to lying about the bush 
roads and tracks asleep in the sun when one can often step over 
him, even on horseback, without disturbing his slumbers. This 
heaviness of disposition has earned for our stolid friend another 
name — the “ sleeping-lizard ” — while from his fondness for 
taking up residence in the holes of dry stumps, he is also known 
as the “ stump-lizard.” Finally, his nickname among the bush- 
folk is “goanner,” a corruption evidently of “ iguana,” to which 
family, however, he bears no resemblance, being a non-climber 
and of a thick, stout build. 
Now this “ blue-tongued lizard,” the Tiliqua nigrolutea of 
naturalists, deserves good treatment at the hands of the bush- 
man on account of one very interesting peculiarity which it 
manifests in common with the lord of creation — namely, its great 
antipathy to snakes. In Tasmania, it takes the place of that 
noted cobra-destroyer, the Indian mongoose, and ill-adapted as 
it would at first appear to encounter such foes, yet it generally 
comes off the victor. We spoke just now of the heavy, stolid 
disposition of our black-and-yellow knight, but let a nice 
medium-sized snake heave into sight, and all is changed. The 
sleepiness disappears as if by magic, and every nerve seems on 
the alert, every sinew toughened to meet the enemy. This 
latter has evidently “no stomach for the fight” and would 
“ straight depart,” but his assailant bars the way, and forces an 
encounter. Then quick as lightning the snake makes a dart, 
but our friend dodges with practised skill and “gets in” a bite 
