Cold Blood, Warm Heart: The Case for Emotions in Reptiles

I took my pet bearded dragon to the vet today. In the waiting room – on chairs spaced 1.5 metres away from each other – I opened his carry cage and he stuck his head out to take a look. Surveying the scene for threats – an overweight cat on a leash, a squawking parrot, more than five unfamiliar people – he determined the room too dangerous to explore. He crawled over to my chest, up to my shoulder, and settled under my hair. With one of my hands supporting his back, he nuzzled close to my neck and closed his eyes.

I see this kind of behaviour from my lizard all the time. I’m confident he knows me. He doesn’t stare at me the way he stares at other people, and when our outdoor play sessions are interrupted by a barking dog or the far away sound of an approaching plane, he will scurry over to my foot for protection. I’m the one who feeds him, takes him out, plays with him. I give him his medicine twice a day, I clean his enclosure, and I occasionally take him into the shower so he can sit under the stream and wash his face. I’ve had him for eleven years. He’s quirky and grumpy and wonderful, and I love him. But doesn’t he love me back? Well, it’s complicated.

The science would suggest that he probably doesn’t. According to the Veterinary Medicine and Biomedical Science website, reptiles can have likes and dislikes, and they can think and respond, but their underdeveloped hypothalamus hampers their ability to feel a full spectrum of emotions. In fact, most research points to fear and aggression being the only emotions that bearded dragons are able to feel, with some conflicting reports about their ability to experience pleasure as well. It is widely acknowledged that reptiles can recognise their owners, and have trust in familiar people, but that they generally prefer to be left alone.

Ask reptile owners, however, and you’ll get a range of anecdotes about lizards showing apparent “love” to their owners. Running over and licking their hand. Snuggling with them. Rushing to the door of the tank when they see a familiar person. Of course, much of this can be explained away. Bearded dragons periodically lick surfaces, because in the wild, licking rocks assists them to absorb trace amounts of calcium and vitamins. They snuggle against us because they like to be close to our body heat. And they rush to greet us because they have associated us with food. All plausible explanations. I know that my lizard – whose name is Hot Foot, by the way – might’ve just nuzzled me today because hair is a good place to hide. And human necks are a good place to get warmth when you’re away from your heat lamp. And high up on a person’s shoulder is a better vantage point to keep an eye on overweight cat. I know that, OK, I know that. But still, it’s tempting to believe in something better.

Some of my friends can’t understand how I could love him at all. He’s scaly, for one. He has claws. He can’t make any noises, other than an unimpressive “huff” when he’s very annoyed. And to an outside observer, they really don’t seem to do a whole lot. His day usually involves some eating. Some sitting. He walks to one side of the enclosure, takes a nap, walks back to the other side, takes another nap. If I take him outside he will run around and climb on things. I would argue that you won’t find a cat that does much else, but I can understand that reptiles are hard to read if you’re not used to them.

They’re reading us, though. One of the reasons most people think Hot Foot does nothing is because he’s studying them. Assessing how safe they are, examining the room for exits, waiting for them to assert dominance or submission. In the presence of strangers, he is a statue. Among family, he’s a goofball. He loves to jump from high surfaces and see me scramble to catch him, and when he’s done exploring, he will come back to me and lick my foot.

People say, “nawwww” when they see him snuggle with me. Or when he seeks me out for protection. It looks like love, to a human. But studies say that we overestimate the personalities of our pets. We project human emotions onto non-humans. I have to remember that pet rocks were once beloved members of certain households. Yes, they were once a beloved member of my household. So it’s entirely possible that I’m projecting.

On the other hand, it’s not completely out of the ordinary for reptiles to be affectionate to each other. Saltwater crocodiles are known to raise their young, fiercely protect them, and even carry them around in their mouths. When a blue tongue lizard finds a mate, she will set up a date for the following year, and meet to mate every year in the same place until one of them dies. Romantic as heck. And while bearded dragon mothers might not stick around to raise the babies, they do spend hours – even days – creating the perfect nest for the eggs, and then smoothing it over so that predators won’t detect it. That’s pretty sweet.

So, I’m willing to accept that I might be projecting, but I’m not entirely sold on it. Because there was a time when people thought that fish couldn’t feel pain, and it was not so long ago that we realised that birds can recognise human faces, and so maybe there will be a time when we realise that our reptiles do love us. Or maybe I’m just a romantic.

#lizard #reptile #beardeddragon