Forked Tale

On my front porch there’s a lizard I see almost every morning. He lost his tail, likely to some predator. Maybe he lost it to the neighbor’s cat. I don’t really know. It’s growing back, as lizard’s tails will do.

But the notable thing is that the tail is growing back forked. Almost two tails growing back simultaneously to form a “v.” Now that’s special. I’m no expert, but I don’t think this happens in any sort of normal course…even with lizards.

This has two effects, really. One, I definitely recognize him every day when I see him, because I don’t think there’s another lizard out there like him. And secondly, when I do see him, I feel a particular affection, almost blessing, because there’s something so unique in his stature, he gains “celebrity” status in my mind.

It may be quite inconvenient for him. How can you balance and disappear in holes as effectively with two tails going off in different directions? And I don’t have any idea how this affects his (or her) mating ability. Does the opposite sex scoff at an extra tail, or does it somehow connote some amazing extra attractive virility?

Mostly, though, I just feel like my little lizard friend carries with him a certain special “magic” quality. My teenage son thinks I should sell him to a zoo or National Geographic. I could never do that. What if they dissected him or worse, stuffed him like a freak of nature. He’s not a freak. He’s my friend.

So, every time I see him, I follow him around long enough for him to stop, and then I crouch down and gaze into his eyes. I swear he gazes back. I think he’s just as curious about me. I don’t want to scare him, so I think loving thoughts. I figure we can all tell a good mood or intention from a bad one, and even a lizard would rather stare at someone with good intentions and loving thoughts.

It seems to work. He hangs around as long as I will to gaze back at him.

And in some corner of my mind, I am sure we are actually having conversations. He is instructing me with some Yoda-like non-verbal wisdom on the balance of nature in our little neck of the woods and asking me to respect the land. Of course, that may be my conscience speaking, not the lizard. But I think giving my conscience a unique lizard’s persona isn’t necessarily a bad thing. People talk to their pets…why not a lizard.

I wonder, then, what do people with homes in less wild places do to connect to nature? It’s hard to notice a lizard, even a two-tailed one, if you’re too busy crossing a busy street or getting somewhere on time. Do city lizards even grow back two tails?

And that’s what makes him magic. He reminds me how lucky I am to have the will to stop and connect with nature, and then to have nature show up for the meeting all dressed up with two tails. I have nothing against crossing busy streets every now and again, but I definitely want a life with enough space for a lizard of any ‘tailage’ to crawl into it and have a conversation.