Cockroach under the bark

Roughly 100 paperbarks sacrificed small patches of trunk cover to uncover this cockroach, which I cannot for now identify. Not that I was seeking cockroaches. The great paperbark strip is an attempt to reproduce a particularly attractive pattern of underbark, which has the appearance of a fine silk.

But what nature and strong wind once produced has proved impossible to replicate. In the process, I've found two big centipedes - avoid their bites, say the guides - many huntsmen, one wolf and assorted smaller spiders, and a few tiny swift black bark-hole munchers.

And the one cockroach. Which superficially resembles Periplaneta americana about the head and in general shape, though a bit smaller at 30-35mm, and with green rather than red about the back. But unlike P. am. likes deep, dark rainforest. I can add that it doesn't like anything about human hands, doesn't mind strong light and doesn't run for it.

Coming to grips with cockroaches

What have we here?

It's not a rhetorical question. My limited reference library doesn't cover this dark but presumably common cockroach found marching across a sunlit track in Tyto today. It crawled on to my hand without great ado but persisted in turning away from the camera.

Nothing of importance to this except to put a point of view: that bush cockroaches don't arouse the instinctive distaste and not infrequent fury attending their houshold cousins.

Though not, in general, particularly squeamish, I'd rather not 'dirty' my hands with household roaches. A rolled magazine or newspaper is my preferred disposal method. And pickup by way of plastic bag.

But I live in an old caravan. Seasonal roaches are inevitable, with or without nasty bait traps. If the choice is letting a big female stroll across my bedding or grabbing it and flinging it outside, I swoop to grab and fling.

On the other hand, meet a cockroach, big or small, plain or multicoloured, in the bush and I want to say gidday and 'shake hands'.

In similar vein, how would you react if after grabbing an Asian House Gecko (Hemidactylus frenatus) off a curtain it disappeared and then came the feel of grippy little footsteps down the spine inside the shirt?

Happened to me yesterday. At first I felt a quiver of disquiet and then I had to laugh at the absurdity of the moment. The gecko's still somewhere in the caravan.