A Bells Phase Lace Monitor in St Kilda -- UPDATED

There's a famous line in the original 'Jaws' when a terrified Brody says to Quint, "You're gonna need a bigger boat."

Today, I knew that feeling intimately.

An issue with my back -- searing, round-the-clock pain -- has limited my ability to do anything physical lately but a Wildlife Victoria call regarding cruelty to a Blue-tongued Lizard in St Kilda seemed easy enough so I responded and was given an address and phone number of a cop who was on scene. Seemed strange that police would be involved in such a minor matter but I was told the lizard had been left behind in an abandoned apartment, hence the possibility of an unstable situation. I arrived with a standard-sized carrier, got let in by the building's ashen-faced landlord, and took stairs to the top floor. Near the end of a long hallway two policemen stood outside an open door. As I walked towards them they looked at my carrier, looked at each other, and laughed.

The St Kilda goanna.

"You're gonna need a bigger box," one of them said good-naturedly.

I walked past them and into a den of human misery -- trash strewn on floors and tables, clothes scattered around -- with a closed bathroom door. One of the four police officers on scene took out a phone and played video of what lay behind the door: a large, hissing goanna on a big piece of wood. I cracked the door open slowly and there beside a dirty toilet and sink was a nearly 5-foot-long lizard perched on a sun-bleached log.

Alrighty then.

It's intimidating to be around police officers regardless of circumstances, much less in a seedy hotel room holding a puny animal carrier as a giant lizard hisses in the bathroom. My immediate concern was time: how much did I have to get the animal out of this dump and into care? We were in obvious need of a large reptile handler but they're not readily available in St Kilda on a Tuesday afternoon. I called a direct line to Wildlife Vic and spoke with Heidi, who was expecting to receive a Blue-tongued Lizard from me to take into care. It was my duty to inform her we had, instead, a mini-dinosaur to deal with. She said she'd begin calling around for a specialist and I made a quick return to my home to change into sturdier, bite-resistant clothes.

Its crude accommodations.

Before leaving I'd told the manager of this hovel, which calls itself an apartment complex but is really a long-stay hotel (one that sits across a tree-lined street from one of Melbourne's premier private schools), that I was intending to calm the stressed creature by covering it with a blanket. As I re-entered the building he handed me a clump of white sheets. He was being helpful, in his way. Heidi called back and said after discussing the case with a colleague in the WV office they'd agreed we should involve one of WV's commercial volunteers, i.e. a person who gets paid to remove sometimes dangerous animals but does so without charge for WV. Not 100% keen on my natural-born lizard-wrestling talent I agreed and told the cops we were looking at a 2-hour wait before a professional could arrive. They said no problem and filled me in on what they'd learned from the goanna's 'owner', whom they'd tracked down on the phone and was on his way back to the hotel.

Den of human misery.

The cops called the RSPCA to report the situation and took my details for when charges are brought against the unlicensed individual who thought it was OK to leave a 5-foot-long goanna in the bathroom of a rented room. Eventually a straggly, tattooed gentleman arrived and told his story to the police. Just as sorrow oozed from the floors and walls of the building this man was ripe with misfortune that he expressed like a seasoned pro. The goanna belonged to a friend, the friend couldn't keep it any longer, the friend was going to kill it, so he took it in order to save its life. This may or may not be true -- I don't know, I was only there to get the animal out of where it didn't belong and into the care of people who'd treat it right. The cops calmly told him he was no longer welcome to stay in the room and that WV was there to rescue the lizard. He gathered his belongings and was led to the street by the police.

But he didn't leave, as I'd learn later.

An officer gave me his phone number and told me to call in case the man didn't like the sight of 'his' goanna being taken away. I waited in the room and occasionally checked on the goanna, who by now had crawled inside his log and gone quiet. Roughly 90 minutes later a reptile handler from Melbourne's north arrived. Despite being told by the police to let us do our work without interruption the man approached my colleague as he neared the building's doors. Sadly, in 2014, one cannot assume anything about people -- especially what may be coursing through their veins. I let my colleague in, filled him in on the latest, and helped him move the log-ensconced goanna out of the bathroom. From there things got, well, humourous. During his brief interlude with the gentleman on the sidewalk my colleague had learned the goanna's name was 'Scratch' so we both started saying "Hey, Scratchy" like the three of us were old mates. My colleague had brought an enormous carrier (that would still require the lizard to fold its tail) but Scratch showed zero interest in being removed from its log. Actually, it showed clear disdain for this plan with a ritualistic hiss/growl that sounded like someone firing up a leaf-blower every 10 seconds.

After I sent a photo of Scratch to WV, I received word from colleague Amy Amato that he was a Bells Phase Lace Monitor, "Australia's second-largest lizard and one of the largest lizards on Earth." Good on ya, Scratch.

It was eventually decided -- by Scratch, not us -- that leaving him in the log was the most prudent course of action. We shoved towels and the building manager's gift of sheets into either end of the log and left that rotten room. I took Ben's advice and called him before we left, figuring the presence of police would put the kibosh on any foolishness from Scratch's evicted, former roommate. To be fair, the man thanked us repeatedly for taking care of an animal to whom he was clearly attached. Whatever issues he's got, and whatever galaxy-sized holes riddle his common sense, he should be commended for showing appreciation towards those taking the animal away from him for good.

In the truck's backseat we covered the ends of the log with roo bags and buckled it in tight. Scratch was heading to a carer in the country who specialises in reptiles. After getting a clean bill of health he'll hopefully be returned to his native NSW/Queensland and live the rest of his years in the bush. I thanked my colleague for his efforts, he thanked me for mine, and we parted ways, destined to meet again via Wildlife Vic and another animal rescue down the track.

UPDATE

So this happened today:

(photo courtesy of Stewart Mackenzie)

More to come ...