Tails of the Unexpected - How to room-share successfully with wild animals

If you look on Letting Agency websites targeting students there are often sections with tips on how to room share with strangers. Useful pointers like, ‘respect your housemates’, ‘agree on a bathroom timetable’ and ‘schedule time for yourself in shared space’ are carefully listed out. And very useful they are too (well, actually, I think they’re a) pretty obvious and b) pretty stupid).

However, if you look up on Google, ‘how to room-share successfully with a frog’ it will come up with the suggestion, ‘how to get a frog to like you’ and to be honest the advice given is useless anyway. 

And so, with a complete dearth of information out there I thought it was time somebody wrote a guide for all those of you about to embark on room-sharing with a wild animal. As luck would have it I’ve bunked up with a few and I’m happy to share my findings.

As I don’t have time to cover the entire kingdom right now, we’ll start with a three species across a variety of classes and then work from there. They’re all quite different and require varying techniques. So yes, you may want to take notes, especially as there will be a review and test section at the end of each module.

Module 1:  Frogs (Family: Amphibia)

Most likely roommate at: Tafika Camp, South Luangwa National Park, Zambia

‘Frogs Love a Flush’

If you want to practice room-sharing with a frog then the place to go is Tafika Camp in Zambia’s South Luangwa National Park. Set high on the banks of the Luangwa River this camp is remote, wild and a place where all animals, not just frogs, are up in your face. Elephant casually wander through the camp during the day, hyena’s whoop at night and the last time I was there a hippo walked straight through the reed fence at the back. (Couldn’t be bothered to walk around it).

But forget all that, it’s the frogs we’re here to discuss. Frogs are not stupid, and they know if they loll about in a warm Luangwa pond all day they are soon going to become elevenses for a saddle-bill stork. So, what to do? Well obviously quickly relocate to another damp and steamy environment, ie a bathroom.

Each of Tafika’s six reed and thatch chalets has an ensuite bathroom. They are open to the sky but with all the luxuries you’d find in a modern bathroom – rainfall showers, flush toilets, twin basins and thoughtfully placed amphibians.

When sharing a bathroom with a frog or five the first thing to do upon entering is check the hiding places. They like the overflow in the sink, corner of the shower and two REALLY sneaky places – underneath the toilet seat in the narrow gap between it at the rim, and in the centre of the toilet roll itself – yes, that’s right. They lie quietly inside the cardboard tube until you give it a twirl and OUT they hop. Blimey, I can tell you that livens you up a bit.

Secondly, you must of course look down into the toilet bowl because this is their favourite place of all. Good clean water straight from a well – it’s the perfect place for a spot of synchronized swimming. I was quite transfixed the first time I saw them – three frogs doing laps without a care in the world. But, as an animal lover what to do?  Flush them? Seems mean. But sprinkle them instead? Even worse!

Well, let me answer you this. It makes no difference whatsoever. Flush them, they’ll simply spin about like they’re in a jacuzzi and then resume their laps. Urine? The same. They couldn’t give a shit. Whatever you do nothing will put them off (and yes, not even an aforementioned sh*t).

Summary of frog methodology:

1.      Check all frog hiding places to draw a mental map

2.      Introduce yourself politely  

3.      Completely ignore them and go about your business

Room-sharing with frogs is easy. They’re friendly, unphased by hot showers or toothpaste being spat at them. And yes, they even love a flush.

Module 2: Rats (Family: Muridae)

Most likely found at: Vamizi Island, Mozambique

‘If there’s a rat on your ceiling it’s pointless to stand on your bed’

Over the course of my career I have been lucky enough to visit the most beautiful Indian Ocean Islands. From Alphonse to La Digue in the Seychelles, Lamu to Funzi Keys in Kenya, Zanzibar and Pemba, The Mafia Islands, Bazaruto Archipelago, you name it, I’ve been there and got the sand between my toes.  

And yet with all these staggeringly beautiful choices there is one island for me that stands above the rest. And this is Vamizi Island, of the Quirimba Archipelago in Northern Mozambique.

Vamizi is extremely remote. Reached only by light aircraft, then truck, then boat, it is wild, quiet and forgotten. A rare beauty. Eight miles long, it is but a sliver of mangrove forest surrounded by white beaches shelving into pale blue waters. Tucked under the casuarina trees is one tiny lodge. I was lucky enough to be their first visitor and, after a day of exploring paradise I crashed asleep in my luxury tent, happy as a pig in muck.

That was, until I discovered my roommate Raymond.

Raymond The Rat first introduced himself to me by simply running along the floor (he was saving the acrobatics for later). But, on receiving a well-aimed flip flop to the head he executed a sharp U-turn, sprinted for the front of the tent and leapt through the perfectly-rounded-10cm-hole he’d been busy making. I stuffed the hole with a towel, got back into bed and that was that.

But Ray was a rat on a mission, and deciding to make more of an entrance on his next visit he awoke me by scratching and skittering upside down along the ceiling. Aside from being fascinated as I hadn’t previously known rats could run upside down on ceilings it was also a little alarming as Raymond was not small. I therefore leapt up on my bed.

Took a moment for the penny to drop... ‘What exactly am I hoping to achieve here?’ I wondered. ‘Now I’m actually nearer to Raymond than I was before’. But, that does mean closer range with my second flip flop so off it flew, and off Ray raced back through the second perfectly-rounded-10cm-hole he’d chewed next to the first.

Stuffing that one with a flannel (because don’t forget the towel was already stuffed in the first) I flopped back and slept. Not 20 minutes later however, Raymond, thoroughly fed up at not being properly introduced woke me again. And this time, sure to be able to shake paws he was 30cm away from my left ear, on my bedside table chewing the soap.

‘OH for GOD’s SAKE RAYMOND’. I yelled, ‘can a hard working Tour Operator not get ANY sleep around here?!’. And, figuring it was completely pointless to do anything about him (and his third perfectly-rounded-10cm-hole he’d made in the tent) I simply turned my back on him and went to sleep.

The next morning, when the lodge manager enquired after my sleep I did mention I’d had a small rat problem in the night. ‘Oh, how many was it’ said he? ‘4, 5?’. ‘No, just the one’ said I (thinking, what on earth?!, how many thousand rats are there on this island?!), ‘Tell me though, are there any natural predators for them?’

‘Oh yes!’ he said, ‘the miniature pythons but to be fair they only tend to hang out around the showers’.  

Learning Points from Rat Island

1.      Rats can chew through walls.

2.      Rats are adept at running upside down on ceilings

3.      Rats like eating soap and flip flops.

4.      If you want to have some alone time from a rat take a nice warm shower. But, check the bathroom schedule first to make sure the python isn’t using it.

Note to readers: once the lodge construction work finished on the island, the rats – which were an invasive species- were brought under control. It is now rat free once again. Poor Raymond. (but good for the nesting birds and the way nature intended it).

Module 3: Honey badger (Family: mustelid)

Most likely found at: Camp Okavango, Botswana

‘Honey badgers are hooligans’

If you have a honey badger in your bathroom then I’m sorry, but you’re well and truly stuffed. They will trash the entire place, eat your toothpaste, rip your sponge bag to shreds and chew and spit out all your malaria tablets. Nothing can be done other to cower in bed, terrified. Try not to think too much about what would happen if it decided to chew through the wall into your bedroom. Lie, rigid as a pole, with your ears and eyeballs peeled and listen to the destruction.

Bright side: Honey badgers are nocturnal. So if you survive the night you can safely enter the bathroom in the morning to survey the damage and pick up the shreds of your toothbrush.

Trust me, you won’t want to use it again.

Coming Soon....

• Getting into a twin bed doesn’t solve a snake problem (Zambia)

• Bushbabies are eco-warriors who always turn off the taps (Tanzania)