UN-NATURAL HISTORY - A LONELY HEARTS CLUB

By Jonathan Downes

My ex-wife used to say that one of the most annoying things about being involved with me was when we went to a pet shop together. Apparently I always behaved in exactly the same manner. (Indeed, according to my present associates, I still do.) I would stride in the door as if I owned the place and then sidle sheepishly towards the darkest recesses of the back of the shop. I would then proceed to ignore the pretty things in cages and follow my own agenda.

Not for me cages full of blue budgerigars twittering away a pointless existence of sunflower seeds and cuttlefish. I eschewed tanks of neon tetras, or boxes of hamsters, scurrying around busily. No, as my quondam lady-friend so sagely pointed out, I would unerringly make my way towards a murky corner where I would find something large, slimy, dark brown, expensive and smelly, which probably delivered a nasty bite, and I would usually buy it!

It was in this manner that I obtained what is probably the strangest animal in my collection! Regular readers of my musings in these pages will know that for the last fifteen years I have shared my living space with a rather disreputable mongrel called Toby, but may not be aware of the other creatures who inhabit my house. I have several snakes and a number of turtles, and even a breeding colony of rare South American red stick insects, but the best of all can be found lurking in a huge glass tank on my landing...

But I am running away with myself.

About ten years ago, Toby and I were visiting friends in Enfield, Middlesex. Whilst in the neighbourhood I went to check out (as is my wont) the local reptile shops. Lurking in the corner of an unimpressive looking series of portacabins and prefabricated huts was an establishment which claimed to sell 'exotic pets'. Sadly, this magnificent establishment ceased trading many moons ago, but for a long time it was the source for many strange and bizarre beasties. On this particular occasion I was not particularly surprised to find a large and unpleasant looking tank full of muddy water and decaying waterweed hidden in a corner. It was labelled "Conger Eel", something which it most definitely wasn't!

Conger Eels are large, elongate fish found in most of the oceans of the world. They can sometimes reach an immense size and it has been speculated in some quarters that outsized conger eels, such as the one reported near Brixham in Devon in the early 1970s are responsible for many of the reports of great 'sea serpents' that have been made by sailors from times immemorial. However, although there are a number of different species of varying colours, sizes and shapes in the world's oceans they all have one important thing in common.

They are all marine fish which cannot live in fresh water and would therefore be impossible to find in a tank of muddy gunge in a pet shop in Enfield. "What on earth is this?" I asked the proprietor of the establishment. He grunted, rolled up his shirt-sleeves and reached into the interstices of the tank where he groped around for a while before pulling out the last animal that I had expected to see. It was a two toed amphiuma - a rare and obscure eel-like salamander from the swamps of the southern United States.

"'Ere: Conger Eel", he said.

These bizarre salamanders are sometimes known as 'Congo Eels' which is, by the way, a complete misnomer. They ain`t eels and they have never been anywhere near The Congo, but with the benefit of hindsight it is possible to see how the confusion in the mind of the manager of the pet shop had come into place.

Now, although I am somewhat of an old romantic I don't really believe in love at first sight. Except in this case. When I saw this two foot long wriggly thing, writhing in coils in the grasp of the pet shop owner and doing its best to bite him, I knew from the bottom of my heart that this was a beast that I definitely had to own. If I have ever fallen in love at first sight in my life it was then!

"How much is it?" I asked diffidently (expecting it to be far more expensive than I could possibly afford. In the few seconds that it took for the proprietor to reply I was desperately trying to figure out whom I knew in Middlesex who could possibly lend me any money should I have to spend more than the hundred pounds I had on me in order to secure this once in a lifetime pet.

"Twenty five quid to you, Squire" he grunted, and as he did so a wicked thought came into my mind. Adopting the persona of a slightly dodgy cockney used car salesman acquaintance of mine, I put my hands in my pocket, shrugged my shoulders, opened my mouth (and with tongue firmly in cheek) drawled "Naaaaah".

"Naah", I repeated. "No call for 'em, is there". The proprietor looked at me with new respect. I resisted the temptation to tell him that "you couldn't get the parts for them no more", but instead came out with a string of other platitudes that I had gleaned from my adventures within the used 'Motah' trade. Much to my surprise (and I have to admit, glee), my ruse worked and I managed to beat the bloke down, and ten minutes later I was ten pounds poorer and the proud owner of a two toed amphiuma.

It was only then that my problems began. I found, much to my dismay that although I had (and have) an enormous library of books dealing with the husbandry of various exotic animal species. I had practically no information about the care and treatment of these incredibly obscure beasties. Much to my consternation, within only a few weeks of acquiring "Cuddles" (as he soon became rather obscurely named), I discovered that all the information that I did have on the species appeared to be wrong!

Over the years I have ignored everything that has been written on the species and just got on with it, and apart from one night when "Cuddles" managed to escape from his tank and climb slither down the stairs to my kitchen floor where Toby found him the next morning, he has been reasonably easy to look after.

But why, I can almost hear you all asking me, why, are you telling us this heart-warming story about the day that you acquired an exotic pet? It is simple, gentle readers. I want your help.

"Cuddles" is the only two toed amphiuma that I have ever seen. He has grown mightily over the last decade and is now nearly four feet in length. But although he is the only member of his species that I have ever encountered for sale, I am not arrogant enough to suppose that he is the only amphiuma that has ever been offered for sale within the United Kingdom.

Having proved that I am a dab hand at amphiuma husbandry (albeit by doing all the wrong things) I now want to have a bash at breeding these slightly unprepossessing creatures, and as everyone knows, even if you are a large eel-like salamander from the Okefonokee swamps of Georgia, it takes two to tango!

Statistically it seems likely that someone amongst the hundreds of thousands of people who read the Planet on Sunday each weekend may also be the proud owner of a two toed amphiuma, or at least may know someone in that enviable position. If you do, and either want to sell your beastie to me, or lend him to me for breeding purposes, or even merely want to exchange information on what must be probably the most exclusive club in Great Britain, write to me c/o The Planet or e-mail me on jon@eclipse.co.uk

"Cuddles" is in his prime and is hot to trot, and this particular journalist rather wants to be the foster father of a clutch of amphiuma tadpoles!