Embedded Files
If I had to name one species that has changed my hobby more than any other, I'd probably choose Heteronotia binoei. They arrived in December 2024 after months of near-desperate searching, and today, just over a year later, I find myself with numerous hatches under my belt, a dozen or so eggs in incubation, and the feeling that this species still has much to teach me.
An incredibly simple setup
One of the things that struck me from the beginning is how little is needed to keep these animals happy.
For most of their time, my binoei lived in an extremely simple setup. No elaborate terrariums, complex setups, or particularly expensive solutions. Just sand, shelters, a few branches, and bottom heating.
Over time, I added a Stone by Alien humid burrow and continued to refine some details, but the principle remained the same, and even today I believe this is one of the great strengths of the species.
It's a setup that's easily replicated even by beginners who don't want to tackle particularly demanding setups right away, and above all, IT WORKS.
H. binoei dig, explore, hunt, and reproduce with surprising naturalness, and I've never seen a fight break out.
The first eggs
When the first eggs arrived, I was thrilled, especially since that year everything was going so far from plan. While the other geckos seemed to have collectively decided to completely ignore the breeding season, binoei had very different ideas.
The first eggs appeared during the summer, and from that moment on, a new adventure began.
Babies! And the first mistakes
As often happens, some of the most important lessons come from mistakes.
For the first baby hatches, I used a three-liter Braplast box to which I added extra ventilation holes. On paper, it seemed like a good idea, but in practice, it turned out to be a disaster. Heteronotia binoei don't have adhesive plates, so they're unable to climb smooth surfaces. But the babies, on the other hand, seem to possess supernatural powers, being able to find any tiny available hold.
Anything! Including the thermometer probe cable. One of the little ones managed to escape and was never found again. A second disappeared in the same way. Luckily, a few days later, I found her entangled in a spiderweb; she was tailless, completely wrapped in silk and curled up. For a few minutes, I thought she was done for.
With enormous patience and enormous care (imagine a frantic and frightened baby gecko born a week earlier and measuring just over a centimeter long...), I managed to free her thread by thread and immediately transfer her to a safer enclosure.
In the following months, her tail grew back completely, and the little one developed as if nothing had happened, so much so that she easily found her new home along with six of her sisters.
Even today, it's one of those episodes that reminds me of how incredibly resilient these animals can be.
The incubation I won't easily forget
The second big mistake came some time later. I incubated new eggs using a method widely used for desert species that lay hard-shelled eggs:
a ventilated box
moist perlite
saucer with sand and eggs
At first, everything seemed to be working perfectly, but then a strange green mold appeared, one of those conditions that immediately makes any breeder's heart race.
I realized the ventilation was insufficient. I dismantled everything. I disinfected every component. I completely replaced the sand and containers. I drastically increased the ventilation.
Unfortunately, some eggs had already been compromised, and when I tried to move them, they literally broke between my fingers, but the most disturbing part came later.
Heteronotia binoei eggs have a very hard and resistant shell, designed to withstand the harsh Australian environment, yet these were extremely fragile, and when they cracked open, I discovered the reason.
The inside was completely dry. The mold had managed to infiltrate and literally consume all the contents. To this day, it's probably one of the creepiest things I've ever seen during an incubation.
Why I keep loving them
If there's one thing this first year has taught me, it's that Heteronotia binoei are much more robust than their size would suggest.
They've tolerated my mistakes, taught me new techniques, and gifted me with hatches when I least expected them. But most of all, they've constantly reminded me why I fell in love with micro geckos.
They're small, often unnoticed, but they can fill a house with much more excitement than much larger species.
And I believe that's precisely why they continue to hold a special place in my heart.
These might interest you:
Google Sites
Report abuse