Life Among the Lizards

Upon exiting my house, I enter into a mini-Jurassic Park. I can hear them shake the leaves, see them scatter rapidly across the patio, sense them watching me. I have, at last count, 1.63 billion lizards in my yard and they're taking over.

A few weeks ago, I hung a cheap birdhouse in the butterfly garden. Yeah, it was a clearance item for $4 but to one certain lizard, it is a mansion fit for a, well, lizard. Every morning while I water the blooming plants and shrubs, I see him peering down from the front door opening thingie. From way up high, he surveys the garden that he probably tells his lizard buddies, he "hired" to have landscaped.

Last night while I ooh'd and ahh'd over the first nasturtium bloom and hidden baby corn tassel, I felt those beady little eyes on me again. This time, a lizard was perched high above the green beans. He had declared the bean trellis his kingdom and all who should approach should, like, shudder in fear or something. I have no gripes with him being there, I just hope he's keeping the kingdom clean of bug scum. I think he may be doing just that because I saw a fair maiden on a large green leaf. A ladybug. Such royalty is always welcome in the garden.

I do warn all of these lizards of the threat that pecks among them. The chickens. Before Xena left, he had pecked a tail off of one lizard that lives near the air conditioning unit. Whenever I see that stumpy tail of his, I am fondly reminded of the brute that used to live here. I can sympathize with the lizard because that pullet-turned-cockerel bruised the crap out of my forearm. He's got one mean beak.