*The Social Butterfly Lizard* has gone viral! But the moment it waved, I felt a little sad.

What first moved me was not the cuteness of this green lizard “waving,” but the moment it raised its front leg—like someone suddenly surrounded, instinctively signaling first that they meant no harm. Many netizens have nicknamed it the “social butterfly lizard.” The nickname is indeed amusing and highly shareable, but once I learned what the gesture actually meant, my feelings changed instantly, and I even felt a little uncomfortable.

Recently, this lizard went viral online because of a video. In the footage, it crouches on a rock and repeatedly raises and waves its forelimb at the tourists gathered around it, looking as if it is sincerely greeting people. The related video was first posted on Xiaohongshu by a user in early March, and the filming location was Entopia by Penang Butterfly Farm in Penang, Malaysia, formerly known as the Butterfly Park. The person filming waved at it first, and the lizard then appeared to “respond,” so the scene quickly spread across social media platforms.

In terms of characterization, if you treat this lizard as a character in a story, the role it seemed to get at first was a comedic one: everyone praised it for being outgoing, interactive, and seemingly born with a natural sense for the camera. But what truly left a deep impression on me was how experts’ explanation completely overturned that “persona.” Biology experts said that in reptiles, this kind of motion is more often a gesture of submission and appeasement, roughly meaning, “I’m not a threat, please don’t hurt me.” Looking back at the video after hearing that felt like realizing that what you thought was a warm greeting was actually a cautious plea for peace—the contrast is huge.

To be more specific, this kind of “waving” is not uncommon in species such as bearded dragons and Chinese water dragons. It usually appears when they feel uneasy about their surroundings or want to defuse a potential conflict in a nonviolent way. Some science bloggers have also pointed out that in bearded dragons, this gesture may even be a signal from females rejecting mating. In other words, what humans perceive as “social energy” may not be friendly interaction at all in the context of animal behavior; instead, it may reflect tension, retreat, or even a plea to be spared. Put very bluntly, it means: “I give up, please don’t hit me.”

But what pulls me out of it is how much the internet loves to project human emotional templates onto animals. If it waves, it must be socially confident; if it comes closer, it must want to be petted; if it lingers, it must like you. This kind of interpretation is certainly easy and entertaining, as if forcing an appealing character setting onto an unfamiliar life form. But that is also exactly the problem: once we only pick out the cuteness we want to see, it becomes very easy to ignore the animal’s real situation and stress. It is a lot like how many games flatten a character’s complex emotions into a single label—lively on the surface, but not really respectful.

Looking at the trend of online circulation, this kind of “viral through misreading” will likely keep happening, because short videos are exceptionally good at amplifying the anthropomorphic feeling of a single moment, and viewers are especially quick to project emotions onto it within just a few seconds. People in gaming communities often say that whether a character truly feels convincing depends on whether you are willing to see the real motive behind her expression. I think the same applies to animal content. There is nothing wrong with liking them, of course, but a better kind of liking begins with understanding before getting close. At the very least, when facing an “internet-famous lizard” like this, we can do with a little less rowdy projection and a little more sense of boundaries and scientific awareness. That way, what it leaves us with is not just a funny meme, but also a small reminder about how we watch and how we empathize.