A Look at Lizards

One of the things I enjoy about living in the Houston area are the lizards. You may call them geckos or chameleons, but these names are not correct for the reptiles we commonly see around here. They are properly named “anoles.” I don’t think they actually care what you call them as long as there are adequate insects for them to eat. 

When I first moved to Houston many years ago, the anoles were almost all the green ones. These are the Native American lizards of this area. As a kid in Cincinnati, Ohio, the green anoles were sold as “chameleons” at the circus that toured through town each year. They came with a thread-like leash, and the creature would change color from green to a darker shade or even brown as it clung to your shirt. Anoles change color to darker shades to absorb heat, not to match surrounding colors. I do not recall that they lived long in Cincinnati captivity, but in the wild here they are said to live five years or more. To be proper, the green anoles are also called Carolina anoles or even more properly Anolis carolinensis. 

What about all of those brown anoles that seem to be everywhere? Well, they are invaders from Cuba or the Bahamas. Somewhere in the 1940s, they began to appear in Florida. It is thought that they were imported on plants from these Caribbean locations. Now, they have migrated to Texas and outnumber the green anoles. The brown anoles change colors, too, but the change is from brown to a darker shade or almost black. 

Cuban anoles eat the same insects that the greenies do, but they also on occasion dine on their green cousins. The brown anoles prefer to remain close to the ground. The greenies are happy to climb up on plants and trees, and that is a safer location as it keeps them away from the nasty brown anoles. Should you encounter a brown anole and wish to address it formally, please refer to this lizard as Anolis sagrei.

I had a neighbor over 30 years ago who was an otherwise nice person, but he had a hatred of anoles. Once, I was chatting with him as he did a bit of gardening. He was leaning on a small shovel as we talked. I think he was discussing planting some bulbs. A daring anole popped out from under a bush and scurried a few inches over a flagstone. My neighbor lifted his shovel and brought it down swiftly on the poor lizard severing it into two twitching pieces. I was shocked. 

“I hate those things,” he said, and went on talking about bulbs. 

My neighbor is not the only one anoles should fear. Two years ago, during the winter months, the Nature Discovery Center in Bellaire had a visiting Great Egret who would come every day for lunch. He was almost tame, and you could stand a few feet from him (or maybe her) without the bird appearing to care. We named the bird Edgar. Well, Edgar feasted on anoles, and he did not care if the lizard was green or brown. Edgar would stand very still until he spotted one. Then he would slowly move close, take aim, and in a flash grab the unsuspecting anole in his bill. The next second, the creature would be slithering down the egret’s esophagus, and you could see a telltale bulge in the bird’s very slender neck. Edgar was a bit of a pig, too, and I watched him on several occasions down no less then 10 or 12 anoles. As it is said, “Everybody’s somebody’s lunch.”

You have probably seen an anole sitting on a log or a tree branch puffing out a yellow or orange-red bag under its jaw. That is a dewlap. It is mostly a male ornament, and it is supposed to attract females. I don’t see the attraction, but anoles apparently respond to the bright color or UV reflections that we humans cannot see. 

We have all seen anoles scurry off our driveways in the summer as we pull into our garages, but where are these lizards in the cold of winter? They do not hibernate, but they bide their time hidden under logs, bark, or other debris. I have found anoles in the winter hiding under the cover of my yard light timer. On warm days, they do come out to see if any insects are around for a snack, then back to hiding. The Cuban anoles do not survive the cold as well as our native green ones. 

I don’t know why these anoles please me so much. Maybe I envy them as they live their lives without needing extraneous pleasures like great wines, luxurious cruises, or snazzy cars. Juicy bugs seem enough for their happiness. Is this a lesson for us? Who knows?