Sightings Part I: Giant Street Lizards

As I Panic: Iguana II

I mentioned in my Introduction that Albuquerque is the most remote city of its size in the United States. We're hundreds of miles from any other metro area in the country. It means that things can get pretty weird here. Of course, anywhere with half a million people is going to have its share of strangeness, but out here the strangeness has been kicked up a few notches beyond anywhere I've ever been.

No one can accuse me of having a boring life. Adventure sports, like white water rafting or back country hiking are a couple of things that come to mind. Lots of people do those things, though.

Oddly, one type of activity has brought its fair share of excitement to my life of late: flipping houses. That's right, flipping houses. You know, fixing up a fixer-upper and selling it for a profit. You're no doubt asking yourself what this has to do with the title of the piece. Here goes:

My partner, Michael and I have been working all morning scraping and painting inside an old house at the corner of two major streets in downtown Albuquerque: Edith and Martin Luther King. The day is starting to warm up and the A/C isn't working in the house yet. We step out the back door to stand in the shade for a quick break.

As always, I first look up to the sky. It's truly awesome out here. White puffy clouds float in the azure blue background. Can't get enough of it.

Then my eye is attracted to movement on the ground just in front of us. They're large, they're grey, they're scaly and they have huge "skin-beard" things.

"Oh, look at the lizards," I say nonchalantly.

For a moment, I'm somewhere else. The zoo, perhaps. Or maybe I'm lost in the middle of the Mojave desert. Bizarre subconscious thoughts of Darwin on the Galapagos Islands flash and disappear. I lose my breath.

"Oh, my God, look at the freaking lizards!" I scream. "Look at . . ."

"No, way!" Michael shouts.

I recoil. I gasp. My eyes are the size of golf balls. I'm stunned for a moment.

There they were: two four-foot long IGUANAS trundling along from left to right in my field of vision. It takes a few seconds for my mind to process what it sees. I mean, our entire ability to understand anything is based upon what we've seen, heard, experienced before, right? So what does the mind do when it sees two huge lizards walking across the backyard toward a major street in the middle of the city?

"Let's get closer!" I hear Michael say. We make our first move towards them.

The lizards see us. They seem to glance at one another for a moment. Then, without a word, they quicken their pace. They're making a break for it across the yard. The street and sidewalk are only 20 feet away now. They're trying to get away from someone or something. Is it us? Are they escaping from somewhere? That must be it, I think.

It's only then that I realize that one of them is injured. It's limping, I think. Is that what a four-legged creature does? Daredevil me quickly approaches them. Wild animals that they are, they start moving faster. The injured one (Iguana I) trails behind the other (Iguana II), who by this time has made it to the broken-down fence at the edge of the yard. A few feet away is a busy four-lane city street.

As I get within a few feet of Iguana I, it's problem becomes clear. It's only got three legs! It's right front leg is gone. An old wound, though. Not new at all. Sanity begins to return. These lizards belong to someone. "An iguana in the wild would not be in such great shape as this one if it were missing a front leg," I think.

Iguana II is out to the street now. Traffic is beginning to slow. Cars are creeping by. It's hard to decide what to do. I look at the cars. Inside them I see people with expressions that must mirror my own. Amazement. Amusement. Astonishment. We're all spectators to an event from the Twilight Zone.

Headlines flash in my mind's eye: "Giant Lizards Escape, Tie Up City Traffic for Hours," "Iguanas Make a Break For It, Die Trying," and "2 Dead, Scores Injured in Worst Iguana Incident in City's History."

I fear the worst. The melodramatic scenes ignite in my imagination: Will Iguana II stop before he gets hit or causes an accident? Will Iguana I catch up in time? Can tragedy be averted?

Tune in next time as the tale of the Giant Street Lizards of Albuquerque concludes. . .