By Sharlot M. Hall 

(Edited by Parker Anderson) 

(The following is reprinted from the Prescott Journal Miner of November 13, 1919. That newspaper had captured a Gila monster and had it on display in their office, which, for some reason, prompted a debate lasting several days over whether or not Gila monsters were poisonous.)

As I looked at the captive Gila monster in the Journal-Miner office, I wondered if anyone beside myself had kept a Gila monster as a pet over a long enough period of time to become really friends with the curious big lizard. 

For about eighteen months, a 23-inch monster was my special pet and our friendship ended only with his accidental death. This animal was sent to me from the Harqua Hala Mountains and, so far as I have ever been able to learn, was one of the largest specimens. 

I have never had the least faith in stories of the deadly bite of this lizard and in all my experience; there was not the slightest indication of ugly temper. The big lizard started out with the name of Pinto, because he was a specimen of wonderfully beautiful markings, an aristocrat among his kind. Almost immediately a friend of mine, one of the ablest research physicians in Arizona at the time, named my pet "The Deacon" because of his habit of lifting his head with exactly the facial expression of "saying grace" before his meals. 

The Deacon was never confined in a small box after he came to me, but lived in a large screen porch in which the floor was sanded especially for his comfort. This was in the interesting old house in Phoenix built by Governor Franklin, and the huge turkey platter on which the governor's Thanksgiving turkey had probably been served many a time was converted into a miniature lake in which The Deacon took a daily siesta in warm weather. He would stretch his glittering length diagonally across the platter, tuck his nose comfortably up on the rim at one corner, and sleep for hours. 

From the very first week, The Deacon was friendly; he learned to come hurrying to the door the moment he heard my step coming home and when his meal of two fresh eggs was broken into a little dish - which also had probably held dainties for the former governor, The Deacon ate his food delicately and with fastidious care not to get a particle of egg on his gorgeous dress. Always there was that solemn lifting of the head between whiles - doubtless only to aid in swallowing - but so funny that it provoked every visitor to laughter. 

The Deacon hated eggs with the shell on, and would nearly starve before trying to break one; he loved big red ants and welcomed his frequent trip to a nearby anthill under the late governor's lovely pomegranate trees. 

From the first, I could scratch the back of his head and he would lie still and almost purr with content; soon I could pick him up without a protest on his part, and often I pushed him out of the way with my foot without the least evidence of annoying him. He knew his name and came clumsily but eagerly when I called, and seemed to like companionship and to be lonesome when alone. 

Evidently, the big lizard is not clumsy on his own ground for The Deacon could climb to the very top of the screen porch by inserting his claws in the mesh - his four feet were wonderfully like human hands and very flexible. A trumpet vine grew across the very top of the porch, and to cling to the wire screen on the inside but in the shadow of the vine was The Deacon's favorite pastime; from it he met his death. He had grown very large and fat and so glossy that his coat glistened like amber and jet - even scientists who chanced to visit me forgot to want to dissect him and admired his beauty. But one warm day, a whirlwind struck the porch while The Deacon basked on the wire in the shade of the tall vine, and he was flung to the floor and injured internally. A fever set in and he lived only three days. Curled up on his sand bed, he watched me as if begging me to help him; lifted his head as if grateful when I poured cold water over him, tried to eat his eggs, and at last moved his head a little and opened his eyes at my least movement near him. 

I have at one time or another petted most of the desert creatures, and none was more interesting than the big Gila monster. There seems no question but the only poison about them is in the stomach contents. They bite only when teased or injured; the light snapping bite is harmless, but in a full bite they close the jaws and eject the contents of the stomach, resulting in blood poisoning. 

(Parker Anderson is an active member of Sharlot Hall Museum's Blue Rose Theater.) 


Sharlot Hall Museum Photograph Call Number:(flfa117pc)
Reuse only by permission.
The "Aztec Lizard" - the Gila monster, c.1880