Bottled Up (part II)

There are few things in life more disturbing to plan or take part in than murder. Which is why only psychopaths are any good at it - they lack the basic empathic tools to be disturbed by it.

We seem to love that legal loophole which allows a true psychopath to avoid any real responsibility for murder on the grounds that they could not appreciate the "wrongness" of the act. (how many crime thrillers and mini-series employ this plot device?)  I think this is because the same feat of ethical escapism allows us to escape responsibility for our everyday killings even at the cost of exonerating these murderous psychopaths (though of course we still lock them up in fear and disgust anyway).

"Thank goodness I'm not like that" says the person buying a steak at the butcher. Says the housewife laying poison baits for rats. Says the smug writer slapping a common Anopheles. Says the... you get the message.

Remember our little gecko?  So there it was, sans tail, but cool and dark in its little polystyrene box.  Unaware (or at least only vaguely aware) that it was the subject of plots most foul.

My team leader and I drove back to town (about a 4 hour trip) and rang the museum to let our contact there know that we were bringing in a specimen for identification.  When we arrived at the museum our friend greeted us with a sparkle in his eye and loudly declaimed something about our not being able to key out a simple lizard etc.  We endured his good-natured taunts, feeling quite sure that he was soon to eat his words.

Our gecko was certainly a rare and interesting find: even as a “range-extension” for a species listed as being at risk of extinction.  And if it was a new species? Well!

When we reached our friend’s small office overlooking the river we brought out the gecko.  He examined it briefly with a hand-lens.

“Well its hard to tell without the original tail of course guys, but you know it looks to me like it is caudiannulatus… shall we key it out?”  Again the key (the same one we had used) arrived at the same conclusion.

“Where did you say it turned up again? ‘Cause…”

The fact that it was so far from any other known populations of its alleged brethren made it interesting enough to our friend for him to ask the question we knew was coming sooner or later.  Mercifully it came sooner.

“…it’s a hell of a long way out of its normal geographic distribution you see.  Is it alright if we keep this little baby as a specimen?  It would certainly add to the credibility of the record…”

There followed a long discussion about the pros and cons of keeping the specimen (his preference) as opposed to returning it to the site (our preference).  Eventually though, our resolve was weakened: there were (and still are) so many compelling arguments for keeping it.

“Look I promise you we won’t euthanase it until we have seen what kind of tail it grows back.  It’s a real shame we couldn’t have had a look at that original tail guys.”

Was there a guilt trip hidden in his amiable drawl?  Or just a friendly dig at us (at me – the captor) for being so clumsy?  Either way I could feel my moral high ground slipping fast.

“And there is a good chance… Well I wouldn’t want to stick my neck out too far but there is a pretty good chance this gecko might turn out to be phylogenetically distant enough from caudiannulatus in the north, to be a new species.”  The clincher.

We reluctantly agreed to leave our little friend behind.  If we were to retain our credibility as field researchers, if we were to make a meaningful contribution to science, if we were to add another species to the list of known Australian vertebrates, we had to sacrifice this one animal.  Didn’t we?

“Good chaps.  There’s a paper in it either way.  Just a nice little note in the museum journal if it’s a range-extension, and a brief description paper if it’s a new species.”  And to me, the red-handed captor:  “Your name would be on the range-extension paper of course, but in the other case I’ll give you a couple of options though.  Either have us give the new species your name when we describe it; or give it some other name yourself and you can be co-author.  Up to you... have a think about it ok?"

So the blood money was accepted.

to be continued...