no iguanas here

When the sun comes out, you never know what tp expect.

Yesterday I headed to the swimming pool to complete my Spanish lesson. There is nothing like immersing oneself in a new language.

I was just about to step in the pool when I noticed movement on the other side of the patio. Not just any movement. It was that distinctive rapid waddle of large lizards -- somewhere between an athletic roll and the gait of an overweight opera diva.

And I was correct. I knew it either had to be a green iguana or its very-distant cousin, a black spiny-tailed lizard, erroneously often called a black iguana.

Distinguishing adults is easy. Iguanas are green. Black spiny-tailed lizards are -- well, black. Or gray. Juveniles are more difficult to identify because the young of both are a brilliant green. (Rather than sparking the oh-so-popular "is it an iguana?" debate, I will refer you to switching parties. This discussion seems to arise every two years or so.)

My patio visitor was a young black spiny-tailed lizard. And he was not happy that I had invaded his patio. Spiny-tailed lizards are quite skittish. And understandably so. They are rather low on a food chain where humans are apex predators. Some people are quite fond of the purported health benefits of the lizard's blood.

He was safe from me on that account. I am not a culinary aficionado of most lizards. I was happy to let him be. All I wanted was a photograph.

Apparently, he is as paparazzi-shy as several royal celebrities, and took my approach as an omen that his destiny would end in a stew pot. So, off he ran to seek shelter under the toilet in my pool bathroom.

I thought that was the last time I would see him. Large fauna (especially of the reptile version) make cameo appearances in the patio and are never seen again. But not this guy.

While I was bent over picking up leaves and flowers from the vine in front of my bedroom door this morning, I heard some rustling in the landscaping. It sounded like a bird that had been startled, but could not get traction to take flight.

But it was not a bird.  It was Señor Ctenosaura similis. Apparently, he thought that living in the landscaping was a better hunting-ground for dinner than living under a toilet (though, I suspect the offering of cockroaches and spiders would be adequate there).

When he finally clumsily disentangled himself from the vines, he made one of those wild dashes based more on the Monty Python "run away" instinct than having any real escape plan. He paused at one point and then made a bee-line to the bodega door. Even with that bull-sized head, he was able to squeeze under the closed door -- a fact that I carefully noted when I compared the space under my bedroom door.

So, I may have a long-term visitor in the house. And that is fine with me. Even though the spiny-tailed lizards make terrible pets because of their disposition, they do eat lots of bothersome insects. Unfortunately, they are very fond of frogs, and I just had two return to my landscaping following the hurricane.

I will know if he has found a new home in the bodega when Dora shows up on Saturday to help clean the house.